Fiat 500E vs Renault Clio

What's the difference?

A fun, funky EV which will no doubt appeal to lovers of Italian style, but also one which struggles a little on the range and price front.

Still, there’s no doubt that electrification has improved the Fiat 500 formula.

The Clio RS is still a ton of fun and in Cup spec, probably the best compromise between price and livability. Despite its advancing years (it turns five this year, so ready to start kindy) and big brother Megane hogging the limelight with a fancy new model on the way, the Clio is a stayer. It's missing some frustratingly obvious things like CarPlay, AEB, rear airbags and rear cross-traffic alert, but it's hardly alone in the segment. 

With the departure of the Fiesta ST, though, the Clio returns to the top of the list of best small hot hatches on sale today.

It looks, well, it looks like a Fiat 500.

It’s actually bigger in every dimension than an ICE cinquecento, but it doesn’t really look like it, which is a good thing.

The 17-inch wheels look great, and big against the very small Fiat, and I like the hidden doorhandles, which make the already smooth-looking 500’s flanks look a little smoother still. But I can take or leave the little DRLs up front that are meant to act as little illuminated eyebrows for the headlights, which come over a bit too cutesy.

But I think the highest compliment I can pay it is that it looks like a regular Fiat 500 — one of the most successful reincarnations of a timeless design ever — and not some modern, eco-friendly version that would have killed the look. 

In the cabin, however, it’s definitely a more modern affair, with the big screen, the horizontal push-button gear selector, and the nifty push-button door openers.

Still, it’s all pretty familiar Fiat 500, only a little nicer, even if some of the plastics are far too hard and scratchy for a vehicle this expensive.

There are five colours available: Ice white, Onyx black, Rose gold, Ocean green and Celestial blue.

The Clio is a handsome small car but nothing out of the ordinary until you apply the very cool Liquid Yellow paint. That hue really is quite something and works even better with the black alloys of the Cup chassis.

The car has some lovely surfacing and in a recent-ish refresh, the slightly odd headlights were reworked, as were the front and rear bumpers which now link to the RenaultSport Megane. Sorry, Megane RS. The RS flag signature lighting is a nice touch, acting as DRLs at the bottom corners of the front bumper.

The lovely organic shapes of the Clio's sides still look good and the rather tough rear end with the chunky diffuser leaves you in no doubt that it's the proper RS not the halfway-house, 1.2-litre GT-Line.

Inside is starting to look its age, but graceful, a bit like Jamie-Lee Curtis' or George Clooney's embrace of grey hair. There are still some of the sharp edges I didn't like. It's certainly a Renault to look at and ergonomically works pretty well. One thing that has been fixed at some point is the switch on the gear selector - it won't bite you if you curl your finger underneath when you press it. You might think that's a small thing, but when you did it, damn it hurt.

The 500e is 29mm taller, 61mm longer and 56mm wider than the current ICE Fiat 500 (now 1529mm, 3631mm and 1683mm respectively), and it rides on a longer wheelbase, too .

That means more front-seat room and head room, but there’s still not oodles of space in the four-seat cabin, and especially in the back, where things are pretty tight.

I’m 175cm tall, and my head touches the ceiling in the back, and if I had another full-size human in the back with me, I’d want it to be someone I know well, because we’d be well and truly aquatinted by the time we got to our destination.

The front seats are more accomodating, but there is a strange tightness to the pedal area for the driver. It’s so tight, in fact, that when you rest your left foot, you have to be careful not to accidentally clip the brake pedal when driving.

The boot is a small 185 litres, too. But you’re not buying this for practicality perks, are you?

The Clio's interior is certainly snug. Rear seat passengers do okay for legroom but headroom is a mite marginal with the falling roofline for six footers. There are no cupholders out back, that curious French habit of supplying just a couple of cup receptacles of different and weird sizes persists. The front doors have space for bottles, the rears do not.

The boot is class-competitive at 300 litres (worth knowing the Trophy loses 70 litres to the Cup) and with the seats down stretches to a claimed 1146L.

The iconic 'Liquid Yellow' ($750 option) Clio I had for the week was the Cup spec chassis. The Clio RS 200, as it is officially known, comes in two specs - Sport and Cup - and there's a Trophy 220 at the top of the range. I had the Cup, which retails at $32,490 (plus on-road costs). The RS220 Trophy, with a bit more poke and stuff, weighs in at $38,990 if you're interested.

The Cup spec is heavily based on the more affordable ($30,990) Sport, which means you get 18-inch alloy wheels (painted black, so watch those kerbs), climate control, four speaker stereo, keyless entry and start (the "key" is still that unwieldy keycard style thing), reversing camera, cruise control, front and rear parking sensors, fog lamps, LED daytime running lights, sat nav, auto LED headlights, auto wipers, launch control, leather bits and pieces and a tyre inflation kit instead of any kind of spare.

The 7.0-inch 'R-Link' touch screen software runs the four speaker stereo with DAB digital radio, Bluetooth and USB. If you get the optional RS Monitor, there is a full-on telemetry system from which you can save your, er, "track day" data and overlay in Google Maps to compare with your mates' or past efforts. You can also change the piped-in engine sound to various different sound effects which are delightfully silly.

Android Auto is part of the breathtaking $1500 'Entertainment Pack' option that includes RS Monitor (which used to be standard) and no, there's no Apple CarPlay. Leather is a further $1500.

Bottom line is that you do get a decent spec bump from the $30,990 Sport along with the more capable (and less comfortable) Cup chassis.

A single front-mounted electric motor delivers the power here, with 87kW and 220Nm on offer. Enough, Fiat says, to knock off 100km/h in 9.0 seconds. But it does feel quicker than that in real life, thanks to the way electric vehicles deliver their power.

There’s the usual EV single-speed gearbox, too, with power sent to the front wheels.

The 200-equipped RSes pony up 147kW/260Nm, which is pretty much bang-on the obvious competition (Peugeot 208 GTI and the outgoing Fiesta ST), driving the front wheels through Renault's six-speed EDC twin-clutch. Unlike those two, there is no overboost function.

Dieppe's finest sprints from 0-100km/h in a claimed 6.7 seconds, pulling along a kerb weight of 1204kg.

The Fiat 500e’s 42kWh battery provides a smallish 311km driving range on paper, but when we got in it was more like 290km at 96per cent charged. A city car, then, rather than a long-distance hauler.

When it does come time to charge, you’re set up for 85kW DC fast charging which should take you from zero to 80 percent in 35 minutes. 

Renault claims 5.9L/100km on the combined cycle but, yeah, nah. My week was admittedly filled with plenty of horseplay and spirited driving, yielding 11.4L/100km. If you were careful you may fare better - but not that much better.

The fuel tank is a fairly standard 45 litres. It requires 98RON premium unleaded.

This is the probably the best-driving example of the Fiat 500 I’ve ever climbed into. Sure, it’s not quite as engaging as self-shifting a perky little manual, but it’s smoother, easier and more comfortable, and a whole lot better than ICE vehicles fitted with Fiat's odd dual-logic automatic gearbox.

The EV transition genuinely suits the little Fiat, admittedly sapping a little character, but also thoroughly modernising the drive experience, with smooth, constant acceleration, sharp-enough steering and a ride that’s mostly settled, only really becoming crashy over the bigger road imperfections.

The small dimensions here also help the EV reincarnation. Yes, it’s heavier than you might expect, weighing in at 1290kg (tare), with the batteries adding several hundred kilograms to the equation, but the 500e still doesn’t feel overly heavy, with the little Fiat remaining pretty light on its feet.

There are three drive modes on board, including the catchy Sherpa mode (because it will help get you where you’re going), which, when you’re running low on battery, kills the climate control and anything else it needs to preserve range and get you home. 

But you can’t shake the feeling that the 500e is a little expensive for such a specialist tool. It’s unashamedly a city car, but one that will cost you more than $50k, and which doesn’t feel quite premium enough in the cabin to justify that asking price.

The RS has always had a belter of a chassis. The Cup chassis became a thing just over a decade ago and is lauded by the fans as The One To Have. I've not always been convinced of this as my earlier drives of the Cup-equipped machines have usually been in close proximity to the Sport chassis. 

The Cup is slightly lower than the Sport, with 15 per cent stiffer springs and dampers and perhaps more importantly it scores 18-inch wheels with Dunlop Sport Maxx RT2 tyres, which you can reasonably expect to be a bit firmer than the 17s with Goodyear F1s on the Sport. And they are.

However, in most situations, the Cup chassis is perfectly benign. You certainly feel the bumps and lumps, but you haven't bought a Cup chassis for Lexus-like isolation. It's certainly sharper than the Sport chassis and when you're really giving it a go around the bends, the comfort deficit is more than made up for by the extra grip and poise.

The RS has always had a belter of a chassis.

The chassis is aided and abetted by a torquey 1.6-turbo that cheerfully...no, gleefully spins to the redline which could do with another thousand revs, but that's forced induction for you. The aluminium shift paddles need a good positive pull to get a gear, but that gear is delivered quickly and effortlessly. The Clio is a great deal of fun in Sport and Race modes, with throttle mappings and gearshifts becoming more aggressive as you switch through the modes.

The brakes are tremendously effective and the electronic limited slip diff (*cough* brake-based torque vectoring) ensures you'll hit your apexes and the tyres spend more time gripping than spinning.

But it's not all hairpins and off-camber left-right-lefts, is it? Plenty of owners have to live with the car in traffic day to day. Driving the Cup in isolation, I've changed my mind about it. I reckon it's the best of the two chassis settings. The city ride is better than decent, with the hard edges potholes chamfered off by the dampers and decent compliance. It's not too noisy, either.

On board the Clio is four airbags (no curtain coverage for those in the rear), ABS, stability and traction controls, a reversing camera and two ISOFIX points along with three top-tether anchors.

The Clio was awarded a five-star ANCAP rating in November 2013.

The fly in Fiat’s ointment is its ownership proposition, with a three-year, 150,000km warranty now way below par in Australia these days, even if the battery is covered for the standard eight years. 

Servicing is every 12 months or 15,000kms, and will cost $250 a pop for the first eight years, which is commendably cheap.

Renault says it was the first European maker to offer a five-year/unlimited kilometre warranty in Australia, and who are we to argue? The package also includes up to four years of roadside assist and three years of capped-price servicing.

Renault expects to see you just once a year or every 20,000km, which gives you a bit more headroom than some similar service plans, at least on the mileage.  The first three services will cost no more than $369 unless you need a new air filter ($38) or pollen filter ($46). At 60,000km or four years you'll cop $262 for a set of spark plugs. The company's website also suggests if the Clio doesn't like the state of its oil, it will beep at you until you have that attended to.