3000 miles in a Renault 4: Is it even better than my Renault 5?

And just like that: the Renault 4 has been on sale for a year already. It seems hardly believable, doesn’t it?

It’s partly because it still looks so new and distinctive, but also perhaps because the towering success of its smaller Renault 5 sibling has cast a long shadow in which this little electric SUV has been beavering away quietly, similarly impressing the critics and amassing a decent market share but without quite so much pomp and fanfare to mark its achievements.

Let’s have a quick refresher, then. The 4 is effectively a slightly loftier and longer version of the 5 – much as the Captur is to the Clio on the ICE-powered side of Renault’s line-up. Like its hatchback sibling, it is designed in homage to its 1970s namesake – albeit perhaps not quite so obviously – and rides on the Renault Group’s Ampr Small platform for little EVs, which it also shares with the freshly launched Twingo city car.

Our 4 has a 52kWh battery, giving a claimed 247 miles between charges (Renault doesn’t sell the cheaper 40kWh option in the UK), and despite being specced in range-topping Iconic+ trim still costs less than £30,000, even with the snazzy optional turquoise paint.

Importantly, all versions qualify for the maximum £3750 discount under the UK’s Electric Car Grant scheme, having been equipped with a new locally sourced battery last year to replace the old Chinese-supplied unit. That’s all the ‘+’ in the trim name signifies; it’s applied to all new 4s and 5s and has no bearing on performance or spec.

Fundamentally, the 4 is a close technical relation to the Alpine A290 that I’ve just spent a few months in and I’m extremely interested to see how it compares as a daily driver. I liked the hot hatch a lot. It has bags of character, steers sweetly, looks great and gets a proper shift on when you need it to. But over the course of a few cold months, I got more and more frustrated with its limitations in everyday use and its tiny real-world range and lustreless practicality made it ultimately a bit of a chore to rub along with.

Happily, this SUV is usefully bigger in all important dimensions; it’s less powerful so more efficient (despite its loftier form and heftier kerb weight); and it has a much softer and more easy-going character that promises to ease the strain of those more boring and frustrating drives that tend to account for most of my time at the wheel.

It naturally concedes the dynamic edge to its sportier Alpine cousin (and the amusingly agile 5 on which it’s based) but that’s a price I’m willing to pay on the rare occasion when such things matter – particularly given how difficult it is to have a good time on our decrepit roads anyway.

The odds are in the 4’s favour, then, but simply being comfier and more rounded than its platform-mates won’t suffice if it’s to prove itself a star in an extremely crowded class. Almost every mass-market manufacturer now offers a B-segment electric crossover in the vein of the 4 and the vast majority of them are perfectly recommendable in their own right – so the Renault can only get so far on the basis of its visual allure and pleasant dynamic character. It must also prove itself eminently useful, which is to say capacious, efficient, comfortable and intuitive.

But, really, the main reason this funky crossover needs to impress over the next few months is that, as I write this very paragraph, a flatbed is outside my house unloading the new Renault 5 my partner ordered recently at my ardent recommendation.

Living with two such closely related cars at the same time will add an interesting layer of comparison to my reports, but does mean I should keep any gripes about the duo quiet at home, lest I be accused of having led her astray in her car choice.

Update 2: 4 or 5, which is best? 

I don't like to brag, but I reckon I could currently be the most knowledgeable and experienced person in the UK on the subject of small electric Renaults. Perhaps excluding the people who sell them.

Not only have I recently swapped an Alpine A290 for its Renault 4 relation, but my partner and I have also just taken delivery of a new Renault 5 – giving me valuable lived experience of each of the French firm's funky electric triplets.

As a result, I'm becoming pretty well versed in the differences between these sibling models – extremely closely related as they are. Naturally, the contrasts in character between my new 4 crossover and the souped-up, sporting-minded Alpine hot hatch that I had before it are fairly stark, but what's interesting is the clear air I'm finding between the SUV and the standard 5, despite the fact that the two cars are notionally identical under the skin.

Last weekend, I took the 4 and my partner's 5 out for an hour apiece on local roads to see exactly where their respective strong suits lie and it reinforced that the disparities go far beyond their different silhouettes. For starters, the 4 is the markedly plusher proposition on battered UK Tarmac.

Like my partner's 5, the 4 rides on top-spec 18in wheels, but it is far more adept at isolating judders and jolts through the seat base and steering column – an attribute that comes into particular focus on city streets, where I confront a towering speed bump or chasmic pothole every 50 metres.

The 5 doesn't ride harshly by any stretch but its lower ride height and stiffer dampers make for a slightly less composed treatment of such obstacles and that means it can grate after a day of chugging around town. The loftier 4 feels positively serene by comparison.

The trade-off, of course, is that the 5 is by far the more engaging car to chuck around enthusiastically: its steering feels dartier and more direct, it corners flatter, and the lower seating position puts you closer to the road, amping up the engagement factor. The 4 is still an agreeably agile car, and feels tightly packaged and manoeuvrable despite the size increase, but it has obviously been tuned with more of a focus on liveability than liveliness.

It's harder to tell any difference in straight-line performance, given the two use the same 148bhp front-mounted motor and there's only about 30kg of added bulk on board the larger car. The 4 feels every bit as keen and gutsy when you want it to but is otherwise entirely smooth, quiet and predictable off the mark.

I haven't yet noticed any efficiency improvement in the smaller 5, either, with both cars currently averaging around 3.7mpkWh in mixed use, for a range of 192 miles – though, based on previous experience, I'd expect the 5 to claim a tiny advantage on a long motorway run, but only to the tune of around five miles per charge.

The 4 scores a couple of extra points for having almost 100 litres more boot space and improved leg room in the rear (albeit still not quite enough: I can't comfortably sit behind my normal seating position). But then the 5 saves you a couple of grand, spec for spec.It's a tough call.

There are prospective buyers who'll simply need the extra space the 4 offers, and others for whom the 5's undeniable visual allure is simply too compelling, but my general takeaway is that both of these cars do their respective jobs pretty well, and your choice might have to come down, simply, to which one you like the most. Glad to be of service.

Mileage 534

Update 3: Small proportions make parking a doddle

I took this picture because I was so pleased that I squeezed into this tiny gap, but it does helpfully show off the 4's compact proportions. At just 4.1m long and 1.8m wide, it's only a smidge bigger than a VW Polo and just as easy to live with in the city. I just wish the throttle would be a bit less abrupt when I have only a few inches to play with. 

Mileage 669

Update 4: Record-setting temperatures have an unwelcome effect on range

Like for a lot of people, the novelty of last month’s 30deg C-plus temperatures and fearsome sunshine wore off pretty quickly for me. It wasn’t long before I was practically kneeling in the street and begging the skies for a summer downpour – if only for the sake of my new hydrangea.

Compounding this heat-induced frustration was that once the mercury gets past a certain point, it overshoots the ideal operating window for an EV battery and you start losing the efficiency benefits that come with warmer weather. The impact isn’t quite as drastic as you might see in the depths of winter, but according to Renault’s official range calculator, my R4 could lose as much as 35 miles of urban range when the temperature jumps from 20deg C to 35deg C.

That certainly bore out when I was pottering around during the hottest period, with my average efficiency dipping as low as 3.3mpkWh to give a range of 172 miles – and that was with low-speed driving. I saw a similar percentage drop from the Alpine A290 – with the same basic powertrain – in the coldest weeks of winter.

I wanted to pootle around for a few miles with the air-con off and the windows open last weekend to see if reducing the draw on the battery markedly increased efficiency, but my distinctly less curious passenger advised that she was liable to abruptly exit the vehicle if I turned the fans off, so that experiment will have to wait until the next heatwave.

In any case, the efficiency hit wasn’t really drastic enough to impact my driving style or cause any charging worries while I was out and about. The heat, though, did alert me to an irritating quirk that made me briefly extremely uncomfortable – although I am partly to blame.

Like a lot of electric cars, the 4 can be connected to your phone so you can control and monitor things such as the central locking, the charging system and – most usefully – the climate control, so in theory whether it’s Baltic or boiling outside, you can make sure the cabin is at a pleasant ambient temperature before you have even left home.

The trouble is, it seems I have previously made an account for this system and I can’t remember my details, which is especially annoying because it takes ages to type my email address and possible passwords into the car’s touchscreen. There’s a ‘forgot your password’ option in the app, but it doesn’t seem to like any of my new suggestions for some reason.

I’ll keep trying to suss it out, because it would be really useful to pre-condition the car and check the state of charge remotely, but with all the advancements in in-car connectivity of late, why can’t the car just flash up a QR code for me to scan and log in automatically?

Otherwise, though, I’m getting on swimmingly with this cheery little crossover. Quite aside from the practicality advantages it offers over its hatchback sibling, the R5, it’s also a generally more agreeable thing for nipping around town in, by dint of its smoother ride and improved visibility. It’s just as easy to park, too, and because it’s so closely related under the skin, it’s almost as much of a laugh when you pick up the pace a bit.

I have a few big drives on the horizon, and they will give me more of a chance to test the 4’s cruising credentials and dynamic character on faster, more flowing roads. I’m hoping that by the time you read this the weather has relaxed into a more June-typical state of temperate mildness, and I can focus on enjoying my time at the wheel rather than enduring it.

Mileage 885

Update 5: Garden Renaulution

Procrastination is an art form I take pretty seriously, so it wasn’t until after the first set of recent heatwaves that I decided to get the garden in order. The Renault 4 was a splendid assistant, taking all my tattered outdoor crud in its 1405-litre load bay (seats folded) – and its low, 607mm boot lip made it easy to slide it all out at the tip at the other end. Just the shed to clear now.

Mileage 1033

Update 6: Community spirit lifts electric crossover above the rest

Good news: Renault 4 drivers are wavers. How could they not be? It’s such a cheery car – and still being fairly new remains sufficiently uncommon – that you simply have to celebrate when you see one coming the other way with a friendly wave or thumbs-up to its pilot.

There aren’t many current cars that would cultivate such a sense of community – the Jeep Wrangler and Mini Cooper are among the few that have made me feel like part of some benevolent fraternity – and I’m thrilled to be a member of the gang for a few months.

Last week I was coming up to overtake a lovely Carmine Red 4 on the M40 and preparing to give a jolly salute when my partner warned me to not embarrass her by larking around with strangers in adjoining lanes. Imagine my delight, then, when we pulled alongside and were greeted by a whole family of 4 fanatics – mum, dad and two kids – waving gleefully at us. Joining in ultimately proved irresistible for both occupants of my car.

All of which is to say that the 4 is proving itself to be a car for the happy motorist. It’s attractively priced and competitively specified but unlike some rivals doesn’t trade exclusively on those cold, hard, rational attributes; its charisma, dynamism and slight quirkiness are helping it curry favour with a large and enthusiastic group of buyers who want a car they can actually enjoy owning, not one that simply gets them joylessly from A to B.

You need only look at the online owners’ groups for evidence of the conviviality it encourages. There are all the usual questions about how to turn down the ADAS bongs, remove the parcel shelf and find the VIN, but mostly people just want to tell everyone how excited they are about their new motor.

“I’m genuinely blown away with how good this car is as the daily runaround,” gushed one whose 4 was estimating 325 miles of range during a hot, low-speed commute. “I’m a day late posting because I’ve been having too much fun with the car,” apologises another who had promised live updates on their collection process the day before. “It makes a nice cup of tea,” boasted an owner who’d discovered the vehicle-to-load functionality and lugged his kettle out to his driveway.

Some are even organising meet-ups: there’s no better testament to the 4’s potential to achieve true classic status on a par with its 1970s namesake. Your average electric crossover just doesn’t attract this quasi-cult following from the off.

The constant discussion and debate also gives me plenty of opportunities to consider the merits of different specs and options and alerts me to quirks and features that might otherwise have passed me by.

I now know for sure, for example, that entry-level Evolution trim isn’t worth the slight saving, because owners lament that it lacks crucial niceties like heated seats, charge pre-conditioning, wireless phone charging and Google mapping.

I also know how to tell my 4 to prioritise one phone over another when booting up Apple CarPlay, how to deactivate the alarm if I have a dog in the car and even how to completely remove the rear seats if I ever need to (I hope not).

Mileage 1410

Update 7: Off-road? No problem

The original 4 was conceived as a Citroën 2CV rival, at home in rural areas. Six decades later, the new 4 is great at zipping around town, but can it cope when the road runs out? I had a chance to find out at a weekend event that involved parking in a big field, accessed by a particularly brutal ramp. The 4 tackled it without hesitation, attracting admiring stares as I casually parked up. I had a much easier time of it than the Renault Zoe beside me. 

Mileage 1611

Update 8: Can our electric SUV survive outside its urban comfort zone?

The Renault 4 is inherently more of a city slicker than a mile-muncher. Its 220-mile (or thereabouts) real-world range and 100kW maximum charging speed, while competitive against rivals, are a little too low to facilitate regular long-distance work.

That said, I have spent a fair bit of time on the motorway lately, travelling to such exotic places as Birmingham, Tunbridge Wells and Milton Keynes, and I have been pretty impressed with the 4's out-of-town composure.

Even on an extended 65-70mph cruise it returns upwards of 4.0mpkWh, which makes for a motorway range of about 200 miles – far better than that of the closely related but more powerful Alpine A290 I ran before. Importantly, though, I drove the Alpine mostly in winter; the temperatures we have been enjoying recently are far more conducive to achieving decent cruising efficiency, so the disparity won't always be so stark.

The 4's 100kW maximum charging speed is positively glacial compared with most longer-range and more expensive EVs, but you are more likely to actually achieve it on a public fast charger, given that the vast majority offer an output of 150kW or more. So you really needn't spend more than 20 minutes plugged in to get its modestly sized battery from near-empty to 80% – at which point I always unplug from a public charger anyway.

All of which is to say that when I had a family engagement in Sutton Coldfield last week and only the 4 at my disposal, I wasn't uneasy in the slightest. I left my place in south London with a full charge, still had 80% left when I got to my regular pit stop at Beaconsfield services – so no point plugging in there – and managed to keep it running at an impressive 4.1mpkWh the rest of the way up the M40.

By the time I plugged into a fast charger under Spaghetti Junction, 141 miles from home (I did say exotic), I had used 76% of the charge, which isn't bad at all. Plus, because it hit peak charging speed almost immediately and held it for the rest of the charge, I was on my way again with a useful 50% within 10 minutes – which was about as long as I wanted to stay there anyway.

Mileage 1702

Update 9: Where do I hang my clothes?

I was frustrated to discover that the 4 has no hooks in the rear for neatly hanging clothes. It meant I had to wear my full suit while driving to a recent wedding and that all my outfit changes during the Goodwood Festival of Speed (you over-index on shirts when it's 33deg C) just had to be draped over the back seat, making all my ironing effort pointless

Mileage 1930

Update 10: Longer journeys highlight some bugbears

The 4 is a surprisingly competent long-distance cruiser, but a few big motorway schleps recently highlighted a few gripes. Chief among these is that, when using the adaptive cruise control, the automatic emergency braking will sometimes rapidly slow the car for no perceptible reason – very unnerving in the fast lane.

I also find the drive mode selector never responds on first press and the alarm that sounds when the battery reaches 15% is unnecessarily loud, exacerbating any range anxiety. If it sounds like I'm picking holes, I am – because even after four months at the wheel of the 4 I'm struggling to find much to moan about. Shall I mention the rubbish phone charger again?

Mileage 2419 

Update 11: Google-based sat-nav makes a mockery of Carplay

I can't remember the last time I defaulted to an in-built sat-nav; connecting to Apple CarPlay and firing up Waze is simply muscle memory when I get in a car. But my R4 is equipped with Google Maps navigation, giving traffic data, hazard warnings and on-the- fly charging recommendations without needing to drain your phone down or muck about with third-party apps.

It's standard from £26k Techno trim upwards, and I highly recommend it. Hat tip to the Google-powered chatbot, too, which I've used on the move for advice on how to barbecue a lamb leg, cure shin splints and keep flies away from my food bin. Who needs friends, with in-car voice assistants like these?

Mileage 2533

Update 12: Should you spec this SUV as a 'convertible'?

You simply couldn't write it. It hadn't rained in nearly nine weeks, but naturally the second I took my seat in the first 'convertible' I'd driven in the UK for almost three years, the radio announced the imminent (and belated) arrival of some summer showers. It's the cliché to end all clichés.

This, then, is the Plein Sud (that's 'Due South' for any Francophobes) – the new canvas-topped version of the Renault 4 that I've been running for the past few months, and technically it's the first convertible SUV since the demise of the surprisingly successful Volkswagen T-Roc Cabriolet.

With the first examples now making their way to UK customers, I thought I'd take advantage of the unremitting heatwave to sample this high-riding, hair-flapping proposition and see if it makes any sense – or if there's a good reason it's the only such car in its class.

More fool me. But happily the rain held off for a couple of days after I swapped out of my hard-top R4 (alas, not for long enough that I could take the photo below without getting my expertly coiffed hair wet), and I managed to enjoy some open-air larks once I'd applied some factor 50 to my nose.

Aside from a smidge of extra head room and a small control panel in the roof, the Plein Sud is identical to the standard R4; you only really clock the difference when the 92cm-long panel is rolled back and bunched up above the boot.

The lid can be opened at speeds of up to 56mph and takes about 10 seconds to complete its manoeuvre. That sounds quick but feels longer because you have to keep the switch applied for the entire process, so it's best to do it at a standstill. A small mesh wind deflector pops out above the windscreen; it does its job well but did catch a fair few flies in my short time at the wheel, and I'm not sure how you'd go about cleaning it.

As you might expect, the effect of opening the top isn't especially transformative. It extends much further back than a traditional sunroof but still stops just short of the rear passengers' heads. But in a market so starved of affordable convertible options, we should be happy with what we've got – and it's quite easy to be just that on a sunny day in the Plein Sud.

Buffeting is impressively minimised up to a point, and it only got a bit blustery and noisy above 50mph. The deflector helps to channel wind up and over the car, which stops your quiff from quivering and means you can maintain a conversation with your passenger. Importantly, it also means you can enjoy your 'summer drive' playlist unimpeded, without cranking the stereo volume up to antisocial levels.

An unexpected bonus was the extra load capacity it offers – as I was thrilled to discover when I collected a tall piece of furniture that wouldn't have fitted in the standard R4 but which was happily accommodated in the Plein Sud, poking slightly out of the roof.

The jollity takes a knock when you thread between two buses at a junction and the interior starts to fill with the heady aroma of spent diesel, and you do wonder if passengers on the upper decks are examining your receding hairline. But you don't feel half as exposed as you would in, say, a Mini Cooper Convertible or a Mazda MX-5.

With prices starting from just £27,445 (or £29,445 as tested here in Iconic trim), the Plein Sud is one of just two sub-£30k soft-top EVs on sale, the other being the vastly less capacious and shorter-range Fiat 500e Convertible. It also commands a relatively small £1500 premium over the standard R4.

Is it worth that? Well, it's a bit like having a swimming pool in the UK: you'll really enjoy it for a few days of the year, but it's unlikely to see much action when the weather reverts to type and you might wish you had spent the money elsewhere.

Mileage 2560

Final report: Is this Renault's best EV yet?

When our Renault 4 arrived in spring, I worried about running out of things to say about it. The technically identical 5 had claimed so many column inches that I just couldn’t imagine a taller take on the formula providing enough points of difference. Plus, I’d just spent six months in the 5-derived Alpine A290, so I had a very good idea about the main pitfalls and positives of this platform.

It says it all that, 3000 miles later, I’m still finding things to remark on – for better or worse – and I haven’t got bored of talking about it. As well as being entirely competent, the 4 is an interesting car, which is far more than you can say about some of its rivals. And now that it’s gone, I find myself struck by the remarkable achievement Renault has made in injecting raw desirability into a type of car that’s all too often endowed with every attribute besides.

What I mainly wanted to determine was whether the 4 would emerge as a better-rounded everyday EV than the shorter and more celebrated 5. On that front, the answer is a fairly resounding yes: it has a cushier ride, a bigger boot and (slightly) more usable back seats, while its chunkier, more upright silhouette concedes only the tiniest disadvantage in terms of efficiency.

In fact, the ‘economy and range’ numbers in the test data would be almost exactly the same if I were noting them down for my partner’s 5, which has covered similar mileage in the same conditions over the past few months.

But, if you’ll allow me a brief subjective cutaway, I don’t think the 4 is quite so visually arresting. The 5’s retro lines and naughty stance still command plenty of attention on the high street. And I think the hatchback’s slightly sharper steering and stiffer chassis make it more fun to chuck around, both in town and out. Plus, the 5 has just been given a light-touch update that boosts range and adds functionality, so it has a marginal technical edge (although the 4 will surely follow suit soon).

Personal preferences aside, though, and disregarding the slight premium commanded by the larger 4, there are few rational considerations to set the two cars apart. So if asked by a prospective Renault customer to name my pick, I tend to tell them to just go for the one they like best.

Even though the 4 was with me for one of the hottest summers on record, with temperatures mostly hovering around the point at which EV batteries perform best, I found that its real-world range fell a fair bit short of the official 247 miles.

That’s not for want of trying: I barely ever took it out of Comfort or Eco mode, only did a couple of long-distance cruises, and always tried to use as little energy as possible while commuting. So it was disappointing not to get a higher mpkWh figure – and, having run the closely related A290 last winter, I’d expect to lose another 20 or 30 miles per charge when the temperature plummets.

That said, its real-world economy figures are still broadly comparable to those of rivals like the Mini Aceman E or Ford Puma Gen-E and feel about right this side of £30k. In any case, I managed just fine; I live well inside the M25, so most of my journeys are slow and short, and each charge tended to last a couple of weeks in regular use.

My lack of a home charger is an issue when running any EV, but the 4’s small battery meant a full charge off a nearby Ubitricity lamppost cost £20-£25, so it didn’t sting too badly when I did need to charge publicly. I also found that it tended to get pretty close to its 100kW maximum charging speed when I stopped for a rare expensive rapid top-up, which meant I was never hanging around for too long at motorway services.

Ultimately, the 4 was at its best in the suburbs, where I could eke out more miles per charge and enjoy its wholly pleasant low-speed driving characteristics. It handles speed bumps and potholes as well as any affordable EV I’ve driven – quietly and with impressive levels of cushioning at both ends – and is about as manoeuvrable as you could fairly expect of a little family SUV.

Not many cars are fun to squeeze through Autocar’s cramped 1960s multi-storey car park, but I started to really relish the daily sprint up to the sixth floor, confident in the knowledge that the short overhangs and generously profiled tyres would keep me safe from the towering kerbs and tricky pillars that have been responsible for ruining many a wheel or wing mirror.

The only real gripe I had around town was with the poxy reversing camera, which felt like it had been nicked from the flip phone I had in 2008. More megapixels hopefully await with a future facelift. That was one of remarkably few technical shortcomings I uncovered with the 4 over the past few months, Renault having done a brilliant job of marrying traditional physical instruments with future-facing voice and touch controls.

I turned off the irritating Reno voice assistant within minutes of taking delivery (Microsoft Clippy, anyone?) but otherwise got along sublimely with the cockpit. The audio, climate and cruise switches are all positioned where you want them and work how you expect, and while the touchscreen is among the more basic on offer in 2026, it’s easy to navigate on the move and the embedded Google functionality is genuinely useful – particularly the charger mapping service.

It all adds up to a pretty unusual combination: a value-focused compact SUV that I’m sad to see the back of, for reasons that go well beyond the usual rational considerations. There are some commendably charismatic cars of this type (Puma, Jeep Avenger, Alfa Romeo Junior), but the 4 stands above them for its combination of well-rounded dynamics, charming styling, liveable interior and relatively decent stamina.

It can’t quite match its little brother for outright desirability, but in the context of this increasingly crowded segment, it’s comfortably one of the most likeable and recommendable options.