People need shopping cars. Small hatchbacks that get driven into the ground on weekday nights, loaded with groceries, dogs, children and other everyday paraphernalia. Appliances, not objects of pride, they wear their scratches, dents, stains and odours as a Curriculum Vitae of family achievements. For whatever reason, when I think of shopping car, I think of the Renault Clio. Small French cars are built for this kind of abuse and absolutely lap it up. It’s as if they all still carry a few vestiges of DNA from the Citroen 2cv and Renault 4, a certain utilitarianism that just doesn’t come from other countries.
