Hyundai Veloster vs Renault Clio

What's the difference?

Another good bit of Berry wisdom was the idea that the Turbo is the sweet spot of the range. While the Premium is indeed packed with goodies, they're not must-haves - the Turbo has everything you need while the Premium adds the wants.

So, at its core, this Turbo Premium is good warm hatch fun in a wacky, head-turning body, wrapped around a good cabin that could be a little less plasticky. Best of all, the fun design matches the fun-to-drive personality. It's a thoroughly modern Hyundai and I want (even more) to drive the full-fat bonkers N version we look like we're not going to get.

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.

You do not have to find the Veloster pretty to think it's cool. You can see echoes of the i30 donor car that lurks under the more interesting metal, with a big grille, sharper headlights and plenty of black bits to up the aggro for the Turbo model.

The rear bumper sports a pair of drainpipe-sized exhausts that aren't afraid to bellow a bit.

It's different from right to left in profile, with the rear door almost disappearing into the rear haunches on the passenger side. The high rear glass may not be great for seeing out of but it helps keep the Veloster identifiable and influential - there are more than a few cars getting about sporting a similar high rump with big lights.

The cabin is, like its predecessor, fairly restrained and very i30-like. It's all put together very well and is only let down by the centre console's plastics being a bit hard, scratchy and insubstantial.

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.

I think the Veloster is very clever. M'colleague Richard Berry thinks the third door is a bit silly - say, like a third armpit. I'm of the opinion it's an exceptionally clever solution to a problem: how do I have a funky car without throwing the baby out with the bathwater?

Something like a three door hatch (yes, I know they're out of vogue) makes moving people about difficult even if you only do it occasionally. The Veloster's third door provides relatively easy access to the two back seats for people under about 150cm, and you can get okay access to a baby seat. Try that in an 86.

The new door aperture is quite a bit bigger than the old car and there is a bit more rear headroom which I'd still call marginal for my 179cm frame. Leg and knee room are okay, sitting behind my own driving position.

The boot is a useful if not staggering 303 litres. You have four cupholders across the two rows and door pockets in the front doors. Ahead of the gear selector you'll find a tray with the Qi charging pad and two USB connections, but only one will work with the stereo and is marked as such.

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.

The 1.6-litre turbo-petrol four-cylinder is a familiar sight in Hyundais, in this case offering up 150kW at 6000rpm and 265Nm between 1500 and 4500rpm, which is a nice wide torque curve. Power goes to the front wheels via a seven-speed dual-clutch automatic transmission.

Performance is swift rather than startling, with the Veloster's 1350kg cracking the ton in the 7.1 seconds, 0.6 seconds quicker than the manual.

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.

Hyundai claims you'll get 6.9L/100km on the combined cycle. As ever, Hyundai is unusually close to real world figures, with my indicated average landing at a very respectable 8.2L/100km in a fairly urban kind of week.

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.

I was fortunate enough to have some time on my hands, so I volunteered to take the base spec Veloster to Hyundai to swap into the Turbo. And look, it's fine, but in the same way the second-to-last-Celica was fine - nothing to write home about, more show than go. Comfortable, quiet, hatchy.

And the Turbo is many of those things. Except, as in the i30, when you step up to the turbo engine it wakes up a chassis that is truly terrific.

While it rides really, really well, it also piles through corners with even more enthusiasm than a similarly powered i30 N-Line, which is no slouch.

The Veloster is lower and slightly lighter, adding to the fun. And it doesn't spend half the time hitting the bump stops like the old car.

There are almost no duds in the Hyundai range when it comes to ride and handling, but the steering is in another league compared to the outgoing model's.

It's quick and points the car where you want, the front end digging in and tracking clean and true. It's terrific fun.

But, like just about every other Hyundai, its compliance and daily drivability is super-impressive. Only bad roads upset the rear suspension but the front is largely unflappable.

Flappable is the dual-clutch transmission. It occasionally hunts around looking for a gear and I spent a lot of time pulling the paddles to get it to do the right thing.

It was particularly recalcitrant downshifting without manual intervention, no matter what drive mode I chose. It can also clunk a bit when it's confused. I reckon I'd take Richard's advice and stick with a manual.

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.

As always, Hyundai's solid five year/unlimited kilometre warranty is along for the ride. Slightly annoyingly, you'll need to return to your dealer every 12 months or 10,000km for scheduled service and prices are capped.

Four of the five services cost $299 with the fourth year at $375. Over the first five services, you'll average $314.

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.