You mean the R9/11, I presume. Renault 9 sedans were mildly popular in our neck of the woods when it first rolled in around the mid-1980s, but people soon moved away from them after they built a reputation as some of the dumbest-engineered, most poorly built cars of the era, especially at a time when clearly superior Japanese vehicles were making inroads. My mom briefly toyed with the idea of trading her Talbot Alpine in for one at the time, but absolutely everyone told her it was a bad idea. I was about 13 years old when my mom picked me up from school in Jordan one day and we happened upon one driving in front of us on particularly poor pavement, and I stared in amusement and horror as that R9’s rear end bobbed and bucked along, with the rear suspension practically all over the place. It was almost as hilarious to watch as it was harrowing.

By contrast, the R9/11's successor, the R19, was far more popular because it was far better car - a vast improvement over the R9 that held its own in terms of reliability and appeal in a local market that predominantly and historically favored everything German, and that was at a time when German cars were still easier to own and reasonable to maintain than the prohibitively expensive, almost Jules Verne-esque machines they have become today.

Having spent a lot of time as a working mechanic at a shop owned by my parents between the late 80s and late 90s, though, I came to the realization that these were among the many French automobiles that were more misunderstood than just bad. The Renault 9 might have been one of the dimmer stars, and the government-influenced committee-think definitely shone through, but it did have its fair share of the self-effacing French quirkiness and design flare that enthusiasts have always known and loved.

As for that 505, it now pretty much belongs to my mechanic, an older Moroccan man who’s a specialist in French vehicles (natch!) As far as appearances go, it is a nice, low-mileage car with some cool features. Unfortunately, though, a previous owner had somehow managed to do some damage to the frame rails. My mechanic and I showed the damage to some body repair specialists, and though they agreed that the damage is minor and definitely repairable, we all agreed that it would be costly and time-consuming to get it don. Which goes to demonstrate the perils of buying a used car, sight unseen, in the middle of a COVID lockdown from 400 miles away, relying only on pictures and video and taking the seller’s word.

Inevitably, I had to weigh my options and decide as to which one to let go. Seeing as to how having two cars as rolling projects was just one car too many, especially at a time of apocalyptic levels of uncertainty, I remembered one of the great Ron Swanson’s moments of brilliance and quickly figured that I might do well to whole-ass one car rather than half-ass both cars. When the Moroccan mechanic told me he was interested in taking both cars off my hands, I offered him a barter: I agreed to take a haircut on the 505, and in exchange for the amount of cash we struck a deal on for the 505, he would work on the 504 for me. So far he’s repaired the air conditioner and did some other major work on the suspension and other stuff; sometimes he would source the parts locally as part of our deal, but I’m sourcing a good deal of parts online on my own, too. There’s plenty of other work that I did on my own at home as well; I replaced the front brake rotors and pads, installed a thermostat (a lot of people over here remove thermostats from older vehicles, thinking that this helps with cooling; which is a big fat load of BS if you ask me.) I also swapped out the annoyingly inconvenient, ultimately useless fixed-length seat belts (remember those?) for the locking roller type and did a whole lot of other work that requires just one pair of hands.

So, if the 505 was such a sweet, nicely appointed car that deserved to have some cash and TLC poured into it, why have I chosen to keep the 504 over it, you might be wondering? Well, the answer is simple: The 504 is just more interesting.

Having owned, bought and sold myriad vehicles over the years, from the dullest Corolla you could imagine to – of all things – a freaking GMC Typhoon (build no. 573, as it was,) I grew weary of the complex, highly fragile nature of late-model automobiles. Owning a modern-day vehicle has become more of a chore and a liability than a source of enjoyment. With manufacturers and dealers more determined than ever to deter you from keeping up your own car, everything got hidden behind plastic paneling and fault codes until there was little left that can be done by the motorist, taking all the fun and enjoyment out of the act of owning, operating, and caring for an automobile. I longed for the simpler days of ignition points, synchronous double-barrel carburetors, and brass radiators. I wanted to have something physical and mechanical in nature as my daily driver. I wanted to enjoy replacing water pumps, adjusting valve tappets and servicing drum brakes in my driveway with my own set of tools and pair of hands again. The 504 was exactly the kind of thing I pined for.

And though I could enjoy doing most of these things with the 505, it was the 505 that I felt as though I drove because I had to rather than wanted to. Too many times, I caught myself glancing over at the at the 505 after a vigorous early-morning ride and thinking, “meh… not this morning, hon.” As great of a car as it is, there was something lacking about the 505’s driving experience that the 504 had plenty of: Character. While the 505 was subdued and all businesslike, the 504 is lively and playful. Where the 505 feels thoroughly modern, complex and just to the point, the 504 is simple and straightforward. Where the 505 is cool and efficient and does what it’s told, the 504 eggs you on and begs you to do more with the clunky four-speed and the unassisted steering. While the 505 errs too far on the Teutonic side of the Rhine for its own good, the 504 wears its Frenchness on its sleeve. Whereas the 505 has all the zest and pizzazz of a meeting with a Staci officer, the 504 has verve and vigor of a birthday party at a boutique de chocolat. And it was for all this that I always found myself reaching for the keys to the 504 – Brigitte, as we’ve come to know her around this household - for a joyride every single morning after I had parked the bike. Vive Brigitte!