Renault Sport 250 Cup

Life is full of surprises. You are rarely prepared for what's coming. Usually, it comes in either one of two guises; good or bad. For example, an R34 GTR parked in your porch on the morning of your birthday is, without a doubt, a good surprise. However, an R34 GTR parked in your porch on the morning of your birthday with a sign that says "This is not yours. It's mine. I just came to get my things, you loser. Much hate, Your Rich Ex-Girlfriend" is, absolutely, a bad surprise. Whichever way you take it, surprises, in general, make great conversational pieces.

Earlier this week, I had the privilege of enhancing my burgeoning reputation by presenting the success story of a project, that my colleagues and I recently completed, to the top brass. I was brimming with confidence of acing the presentation because I felt responsible for introducing a service that is generating a new revenue stream for the company. Of course, my ego was further inflated by the fact that they had erected super huge billboards and ran print ads in local dailies promoting my awesomeness.

I was on top of the world.

So, there I was, walking in the corridors of power, in slow motion, to the applause of my fellow co-workers. I was greeted by a line of thumbs up, high fives, and pats on the back. The ladies were screaming my name in fanatical adoration. Some fainted as I shook their hands or shine a smile in their direction. Flanked by an army of supporters, I was ready to take my place amongst the greats that have walked through these walls.

I stepped into the room where the big guns were waiting... SURPRISE!!! Suddenly, the world spun and I blacked out.

When I came around, I had bullet holes all over my body. I wasn't dead, but it really hurt. I looked at my marketing colleague, who was my co-presenter, apparently, he got it worst - he was blown up! With everything still blurry, the last thing I remember was someone shouting "Landmine!!!". I am pretty sure that my colleague stepped on it. So, I searched for his scattered limbs and pieced him back. Amazingly, he was not dead either. Through all his pain, he managed to whisper, slowly, "Ouch...".

After some time, both of us got up to our feet. All the so-called fans, the thumbs up, the high fives, had disappeared. No one was around. It was a long road down the corridors of power and we were standing there alone. Picking up the pieces, we searched for our belongings, but we could not find them. We looked again and again... yup... they obliterated all of our belongings; our egos, our confidence, our reputation, and our self worth - all blown up to smithereens. So, with only our battered bodies intact, barely, we walked down the Hall of Shame with our heads misguidedly held up high, strangely pleased by the sprung surprise.

That was not the end of surprises that I got that day. As I was walking back from lunch, I saw this bright yellow 2 door hatchback sitting by the side of the road. It was the Renault Sport 250 Cup! I have only seen it once before on the road and to see it parked right in front of me was quite a surprise.

Then I saw a guy wearing a Renault lanyard smoking next to the car. Having survived a massacre, my new found sense of invincibility compelled me to ask him if I could test drive the car, which was something I wouldn't have asked due to my innate debilitating shyness. Guess what? He said OK! Surprise!!!

Apparently, he was waiting for a customer who had made an appointment during the Japan GT for a test drive. So, I gave him my number and told him to call me once the client was done. And call he did!!!

The first thing I noticed was how perfectly flush my ass sits on the Recaro semi bucket seats. While getting my huge thighs in - in between the steering and the seat - required some flexibility on my part, once inside, it felt like the Recaros were specially made for me. I had expected it to be a little bit hard on my back, judging from how sturdy and svelte it looked, but I was genuinely surprised that they're actually very comfortable.

The interior has nothing much to shout about. The only thing that caught my eye, after a bit of searching, was the multi purpose controller thingy that hides behind the steering wheel. It does a lot of things including shrinking your balls from huge to tiny in 2 seconds. That's because it controls the throttle response of the car via different mapping presets; Progressive, Linear, Sport, and Extreme. I think there are more settings, but I only cared about going pass Linear.

So, it was no surprise then that I selected Extreme, as a testament of my huge sack, to begin the journey. And the first thing I did was... stall the car. Hahahahahaha! Well, almost. Between the short clutch and the extra responsive throttle, I let the car get away from me as it hopped to an embarrassing halt. Sensing my ineptness, the Renault salesman told me to shift the mapping back to Linear.

I did as told, but mostly because I have this uneasy reservation about driving someone else's car. Anyway, off we went with little to no drama. Once I got used to the clutch, it was pretty easy to drive. The ergonomics of the drive was excellent for someone with my body fat percentage or, according to the unreliable BMI, a classification of dangerously obese. There was sufficient amount of headroom and plenty of space between driver and passenger. Everything was within comfortable reaching distance. The rear windscreen was a bit tiny, but that was, literally, a small matter.

Now, that day wasn't even my birthday, but I had been getting a lot of surprises, good and bad. Once we were in front of the Syariah Courthouse, I set the mapping back to Extreme (cause that's how I like to roll... yea right) and floored the little mother Cup-per and... BOOM! Another SURPISE!!!

The chicken little can really fly! The response was unnervingly fast. Hitting the 7000rpm redline was effortless. And there was little to negligible torque steer. The gear changes were short and smooth. But the acceleration was what really caught my attention.

There was no chest compressing G force that you get with a typical Jap sports car. Despite the Extreme setting, the acceleration felt very linear all the way to the redline. In a way, this drive reminded me of one DC5 Integra Type R that I drove awhile back. In terms of response, the RS 250 Cup feels like it was NA more than it was a turbocharged engine. It felt, to me, exactly like the Type R, minus the deafening noise. It was quiet as a mouse. On top of that, while the Type R prides itself as a track machine with rock hard suspension, the 250 Cup's ride handling was firm, planted, and, above all, pleasant. Granted that I did not weave through the KL arteries like a possessed lunatic, (neither did I with the Type R), I really feel that the car will hold up against more challenging bends under the boots of a professional racer.

Unfortunately, I could not experience the true potential of the Brembo brakes. This is because the car had clocked more than 20,000km and had gone through multiple days on the track. In spite of that, it was still grippy enough to stop me from being an idiot on the road.

I must say, with great humility, that this car drives much faster than my Skyline or, at least, it felt faster. I would have loved to drive it a bit longer, perhaps up GTJ, but I knew I was driving on borrowed time. Given the 10 minutes or so, it was an absolute pleasure to have got the chance to take this pocket rocket for a spin.

All in all, despite the fact that Renault probably manifested this stunningly beautiful automobile for the track, it is surprisingly practical in every single sense of the word. Every single creature comforts that you expect from a car is available. Boot space is sufficient and extra space can be had by folding the rear seats forward. Fuel consumption, according to the spec sheet, is about 8.3l/100km, which translates to about 12km/l in mix urban driving.

If I had the means to afford this, I would definitely drive this to work everyday. No point keeping it tucked in the driveway. Once you get used to the clutch, it should not be too much of a hassle, even in traffic.

So, as I reluctantly gave back the key... oh wait... there was no key, I realized that a Conti car can be as much fun as a Jap sports car, if not more. The RS 250 Cup was the first Conti sports car that I've driven and, if I may be so bold, it truly represented the European contingent pretty darn well. Overall, I am surprised by this RM230,000 ++ mid life crisis package and it has certainly given me fruit for thought in terms of what sports car I will drive in the future.

Couple of days later, I related this drive to my marketing colleague and how it helped me release all the frustration from the firing squad we both received that fateful day. Without even thinking, he said, "Why you want to buy this kind of cars? So expensive and you can't even get a chick to get in the car," and before I could answer him, "Me ah... drive a Camry only I can already pick up chicks... no need to go fast la what la."

I was stunned. I was surprised and caught off guard by his statement. But I guess life's like that - full of surprises.