I wanted to like the Renault Twingo I am driving this week, as I think the styling stands a chance of being as timeless as that of the Fiat 500 and it could look as fresh in 2020 as it does in 2015. Unfortunately I just cannot gel with the car and it all comes down to ergonomics.
The Twingo, rather brilliantly, features a dashboard mounted phone cradle that is ideal for someone like me who gets lost on the way to the bathroom and travels everywhere with the help of Google Maps. The positioning on the dashboard, just far enough out of eye line not to be distracting, but close enough to be a mere glance away, is certainly better than the phone-in-the-cupholder method I usually employ.
However, the cradle itself sits in the middle of the radio controls, bisecting the panel with 1-3 on the left and 4-6 on the right. At least I think 1-3 are on the left, could be the fountain of youth or the third secret of Fatima over there, but you simply cannot see, let alone use whatever is on far side of the cradle. And this is not just because I have a large phone; even empty, the cradle makes the controls on its left unusable. I can only imagine what it would be like with Neil's ridiculously sized iPhone in there - may as well remove the entire dashboard and just have the cradle.
I'm sure some (including Renault) will argue that the Twingo comes with a separate fingertip remote, mounted just behind the steering wheel, and this is true, but it is not as easy to use as the six buttons on the face of the radio. Say for example you are an Ivan and Chris kind of person in the morning, enjoy a bit of Pat Kenny in the afternoon and skip over to Matt Cooper in the early evening. With the buttons that is a simple case of pressing three buttons; with the remote control you have to cycle through the stations alphabetically using a rotary knob and guess whether or not you have picked the right station, as, unless you have mounted your phone just so, it also blocks the radio's display. It is like the designer had heard of the concept of smartphones but only had a Nokia 3310i to hand when actually designing the thing.
The positioning of the cradle also means the hazard button sits atop the dashboard rather than on its face. No big deal you say, but try giving a quick blip of the hazards as a thank you for a tractor moving over and allowing you to pass. You have to stretch to get to the button. And I don't just mean an arm stretch, I (a reasonably sized gentleman), have to haul myself almost out of the seat to get to the button. Road manners are already skating on a thin edge and I fear that if a driver has to inconvenience themselves to say 'thanks' it could mean they don't bother.
Then there is the steering wheel. This is more of a personal issue, but another reason I cannot yet get on with the Twingo. I like my steering wheel set quite high, giving me a good view of the dials behind them. However, with the wheel in my usual position the dials are partially obscured in the Twingo - nowhere near as bad as in a Peugeot 208 I must point out, but not ideal. Lowering the steering wheel to the point the dials are unobscured brings the wheel close to hitting my legs - not good.
All that said the Twingo is not without its plus points, most of which I will get into in the review proper, but the one thing that still makes me smile is the steering lock. As the Twingo is rear-engined, the front wheels are freed from having to provide motion and Renault decided to give it some extra lock for easier manoeuvrability. No word of a lie, half lock in the Twingo is more or less comparable to most other cars' full ability. Three-point turns are a thing of the past; just wind on full lock and do a perfect U-turn. Until your spinning hands collide with your legs as the steering wheel is set too low and you pull a muscle in your back reaching for the hazards to say 'sorry' to those you have inconvenienced...
Further reading
Our first drive of the Renault Twingo from the international launch