Some people like to think of cars in terms of generalities and nationalities. British cars are fancy but fragile, German cars are solid, American cars are too big, and so on. It’s largely leftover BS dating back to the prewar days, when national markets were more siloed and certain characteristics were evident for some (but certainly not all) of a country’s numerous car-making firms. Consolidation and the creation of the European single market in the ‘50s gradually made British, French, Italian and German cars part of one big and rather dysfunctional family. Here’s a Franco-German example with the Karmann-bodied Renault 19 Cabriolet.
Even in the ‘90s, this was not a new phenomenon, of course. Back in the custom coachwork days, getting a fancy foreign chassis dressed up by a local coachbuilder was a common way to keep costs in check. As Europe became a single market in the early ‘60s, some carmakers found it worthwhile to get low-volume bodies made in neighbouring countries.
Peugeot outsourced their deluxe two-doors to Pininfarina, Opel got their sexy GTs made in France by Brissonneau & Lotz, Mercedes-Benz sold wagons built in Belgium, Volvo got their P1800 bodies made (however imperfectly) in the UK by Jensen… This was taken to a bit of an extreme by Cadillac with the Allanté, but that’s another story.
German coachbuilder Karmann, based in Osnabrück in north-west Germany, was one of the most active body-making firms in the country. They famously had deep ties to Volkswagen, BMW and Porsche since the ’50 and ‘60s (and beyond), but also worked with AMC, Audi, British Leyland (they designed the Triumph TR6), DaimlerChrysler, Ford, GM, Spyker and Bentley. Some of that work involved manufacturing chassis, some was limited to producing roof assemblies, but many cars, like the VW-Porsche 914 or the BMW E9, were 100% built by Karmann.
I’m not sure why Renault chose to work with them to design and produce the R19 drop-top, but for the simple reason that Karmann’s reputation in the field of convertibles was impeccable: they had 40 years of experience with VW cabrios by the late ‘80s.
The Renault 19 was launched in the summer of 1988 to take over from the R9 / R11 (a.k.a Alliance / Encore). The R19’s muted design, available initially in 3- and 5-door hatchback styles and soon as a 4-door saloon as well, was authored by Giugiaro. The drivetrain, which included everything from the old 1.2 OHV “Cléon Fonte” to the 1.8 litre DOHC 16-valve “moteur F” was mostly inherited from the R9 / R11 twins, as was the MacPherson front / torsion bar rear suspension. Manufactured with far more emphasis on quality control than its predecessors, the R19 was intended to raise the Régie’s game to rival the likes of the Peugeot 205 / 309, the Ford Escort and the VW Golf. Hence the need to add a touch of glamour to the range with the Cabriolet, which only joined the range in 1991.
This turned out to be a wise choice, as the R19’s only real issue was its rather bland appearance. And Renault had not included a cabriolet in their range since the demise of the Caravelle in 1968, so the firm as a whole needed an image boost. The Karmann drop-top was very well-designed, providing plenty of passenger space, a racy-looking tonneau cover and, for the first time on a modern European convertible of this size, no “basket handle” B-pillar roll bar.
In 1992, the R19 got a major facelift courtesy of Patrick Le Quément, Renault’s head of styling, which dispensed with the original design’s anonymous snout in favour of a more rounded and sculpted look, in line with the marque’s new visual identity. It didn’t transform the car into an exciting piece of ‘90s automotive design (which is kind of a contradiction in terms anyway), but it certainly gave the model more momentum.
The Cabriolet was naturally only offered with the larger petrol engines available, which by the early ‘90s meant either the 140hp 1.8 litre 16-valve or the 107hp 1.7 litre. Our feature car is the latter, as it doesn’t have the hotter version’s hood scoop.
The R19 was to be the last Renault model to use a model number, but it also heralded the return of convertibles in the Régie’s range for a durable time. The 1995-99 Spider was a bit of an Alpine side-project, but the R19’s replacement, the Mégane, also featured a Karmann-made drop-top. It was not, however, as big as the R19, which was a true four-seater. The R19 saloons exited stage left after MY 1995, but the Cabrio carried on until 1997 until the aforementioned Mégane successor could take over.
Renault sold just under 30k units of this convertible between 1991 and 1997 – not too bad, but a far cry from the likes of the VW Golf or even the Peugeot 306. The R19 in general was one of Renault’s greatest hits of the late 20th Century, with over five million units made. It even had the distinction of being the best-selling foreign car in Germany for five years running (1990-94). Did the Karmann connection have anything to do with that? Probably not, though it certainly didn’t hurt.
Related post:
Curbside Classic: Renault 19 – La Regie’s Final Number
“Volvo got their P1800 bodies made (however imperfectly) in the UK by Jensen…”
Some things will never go away. It does not help if it is repeated over again by uninformed writers. Sorry Tatra87. I love your articles and stories but but please be a bit more careful when making (repeating) such statements.
Jensen never made the bodies, they were pressed in Scotland by Pressed Steel. Volvo had a deal with Jensen that they would build up the bodies received from Pressed Steel.
As there were many defects in the bodies from PS, Jensen had a hard time doing a good job and both parties agreed to end the contract.
I am not sure who then made the bodies, maybe PS still did it but with improved quality?
regards, Dion
(Jensen & Sunbeam Imp owner. Imps were also pressed by Pressed Steel in Scotland)
Seems to me that “..bodies made (however imperfectly) in the UK by Jensen..” and “..Jensen…would build up the bodies received from Pressed Steel..” is a pretty fine distinction in the context of this snapshot. I mean, no-one says “Rolls-Royce Shadows made by Pressed Steel” do they, even though it’s true. Your tone, which would be relevant in a club setting, here makes it sound as if Prof T has disputed the divinity of Christ in a church! That is, the correction itself is fine, but gently does it. As you well know, folk work hard on these posts.
The statement that the Opel GT was manufactured by Brissoneau & Lotz is a gross oversimplification, too. In fact, it was built by three companies in three different plants:
1.) Bodywork: The body shells were manufactured by Chausson in Gennevilliers, France.
2.) Painting and Interior: This work was carried out by Brissoneau & Lotz (Creil, France); there, the bodies were painted and fitted with the interiors.
3.) Final Assembly: The painted bodies were transported to Bochum, Germany, where the engine, transmission, axles, and final assembly were installed at the Opel plant in Bochum.
The statement that the Opel GT was manufactured by Brissoneau & Lotz is a gross oversimplification, too.
Why are you bringing this up here? Have we propagated that statement in our coverage of the Opel GT? Or are you just feeling a bit like an old-school German schoolmaster?
We’ve been through this specific point before. Opel’s contract for the production of the Opel GT bodies was with Brissonneau et Lotz, which had submitted what Bob Lutz called “a well-structured, abundantly documented bid” that undercut Karmann by about 40 percent. Brissonneau et Lotz subcontracted the stampings, body assembly, and a certain amount of body engineering to Chausson, with which Brissoneau et Lotz was also working on the Matra 530. Opel was completely aware of this, but their actual contract was with Brissoneau et Lotz to deliver trimmed and painted bodies, which Opel could not spare the capacity to manufacture in-house and could not produce economically at the anticipated volume.
Thus, Tatra-san’s statement “Opel got their sexy GTs made in France by Brissonneau & Lotz” is substantially correct — and as correct as it needs to be for a single phrase offered as a point of comparison in a post about a completely different car. The additional details are not germane to the subject of the post, or the point he was making.
Speaking as a determined and if I may say professional hair-splitter, this is splitting hairs, and describing it as “false facts” seems unnecessarily hyperbolic.
The 19 was a pretty decent car, hiding its bushel a bit and lacking a strong image alongside a Golf, a Rover 214/216 and the Japanese so reliable assumption a Honda or Toyota had. This variant addressed some of those issues and created a car good enough to be considered as good as anything else in the (small) class.
Sharp looking, distinctive with the tonneau cover and pretty comfy too. A lot to like.
And behind the Renault in the first photo the bright blue car is a Peugeot 308CC (or is it a 307CC – there was little to distinguish them), a competitor to subsequent Megane convertibles.
Most likely it’s a 307CC – the 308CC had something like a small hump in the lid which contained the 3rd brakelight.
I think the choptop does look good too, but my experience of the sedan was just dispiriting (and it was new). But on the other hand, I’m fairly sure the chassis was the basis of the following Megane and, of course, Megane Scenic, and mine was a really good drive, and quite solid to boot. (Solid in body, not spirit, where it was ethereal and flight and frequently broken!)
Did you ever drive a 19? Curious as to what you made of it if you did.
I had 2 – a 1990 1.4 with carburettor and later a 1992 1.4 with injection and power steering, both 5 door hatchbacks.
Overall impression is that it was a pretty good car – comfortable, competitively spacious, huge boot, better handling than you might have expected an dwell equipped for the price. WEll able to hold its head high against an Escort, Astra, Corolla et al, bit harder agianst Golf, ROver 214 or Peugeot 306.
But a decent, comfortable, good value car
Thanks for the reply, Sir Rog. Very interesting, that.
The one I drove was a 1.7 injected sedan, and to be fair, a proper judgment of qualities would be only relevant if I’d just driven some competitors (and from unreliable memory, I’d got out of a Mitsubishi Magna, aka, Galant, a relatively huge and non-relevant car).
To explain more fully, here in Oz, Renault had still at that time to be priced upmarket because of tariffs, and naturally, upmarket was a car the 19 was not (despite the leather and stuff in the Baccara I drove). I probably had expectations of better because Renault, but having owned an Astra from that time period since (and found it a very ordinary drive indeed), I now think that my expectations were beyond the reality generally.
Interesting. I never knew about this one. A little odd looking however in the trunk rear seat area. It does unfortunately look like a convertible conversion. I suspect it would look better with the hood up – a rarity for open top cars.
Wikipedia features a pic of a R19 Cabrio with the hood up – as you can see, it covers those rear bulges. My cousin had this model (16V) in the same specs as depicted.
Don’t think we ever got the 19 down here. Renault was almost invisible in Australia then – quite a change from thirty-forty years earlier. If we did, it would’ve been the regular hatch, not this super-special Karmann convertible.
Funny place for a dent on the driver’s front fender.
We did.
Ours didn’t have that dent.
I too noticed the nearly symmetrical dents in the front fenders .
Out of all these I think the Peugeot rag top looks the very best .
-Nate
I drove a friend’s 19 Baccara (posh model) years ago, though how I remember such a forgettable thing seems a conundrum. What a dullard! And I have forgotten to forget what a notably floppy car it seemed to be in body. I can’t imagine it sans roof, even with a good German stiffener up it.
God knows why the Germans loved it. Earlier, they’d loved the Mazda 626, which I get, as it was a high quality construction with pretty fine dynamics, but these slugs weren’t fast, handled indifferently, rode only ok, and most certainly weren’t yet up to Japanese standards of build.
I demur on the point about national identities. It certainly wasn’t confined to before WW2: it’s only in the last 20-odd years that one can hardly tell one brand from another. Anyway, all those squabbling Euros are at last united by distaste for a common orange enemy.
Oh, and American cars ARE too big, anywhere outside of that continent. We are seeing increasing numbers of their No.1 selling F150 on our roads, and the monstrous selfish bastards don’t fit!
Well, how about that? We did get the 19, and you drove it. They can’t have sold many, as Renaults were priced like a prestige car (as you say above, taxes…), and Renault was no prestige brand, Baccara model name notwithstanding. Aussies still had not-so-fond memories of locally-made 12s, many of which practically disintegrated when you looked at them. An equivalent Australian-assembled Japanese car (Toyota, Nissan, Mitsubishi) would have been about 30% cheaper.
In reply to your 2nd and 3rd sentences respectively, we did, I did, they didn’t, they were, and they weren’t, Baccara model name notwithstanding. (Whatever a Baccara might be: a pauper’s version of baccarat, perchance? You know, posh, but a tad cheap?)
The 12 never did seem to have a stellar name in these parts. In the face of weak clutches, rather porky heft for that saggy-looking body, not nearly enough power, and build consisting mainly of rust, the great comfort and decent room and handling (and ride) lost all their allure. They seemed to become cheap back-of-the-lot rubbish in very short order.
There they are again, those disgusting seat cover patterns reminiscent of women’s underwear, so ubiquitous in the 90s. Perhaps to force leather on us at an extra cost?
Matched my undies perfectly, but maybe I’m making confessions unneccesarily.
😀
A bit homely – as were all Renault interiors back then. Soggy Froggy > Eurobland dynamic would’ve been too much in one jump.
Actually, the only interesting thing about the R19 was that the ADAC found they were more reliable than the A3 Golf and that caused a bit of a furore in Germany as they were meant to lie about these things.
It was also the beginning of the end of the Ital Design worship, as this was the corollary.
So actually a good ownership proposition, just unspeakably bland.
And Renault had not included a cabriolet in their range since the demise of the Caravelle in 1968
Was the Alliance/9 cabriolet U.S. only?
Yes, US market only. The Alliance convertible was developed with considerable input by ASC, but somewhat surprisingly, built on AMC’s assembly lines.
https://www.curbsideclassic.com/curbside-classics-european/curbside-classic-1985-renault-alliance-convertible-camembert-a-la-open-air/
“Why are you bringing this up here? Have we propagated that statement in our coverage of the Opel GT? Or are you just feeling a bit like an old-school German schoolmaster?”
Yes, indeed. That seems to be a character trait of some people from a l l German-speaking countries. No matter how long they’ve been away from there.
Furthermore, I see no problem in pointing out false “facts” when I notice them, regardless of the context in which they are mentioned.
Lèse-majesté?
Furthermore, I see no problem in pointing out false “facts” when I notice them,
But where did you notice them? Comment sections are generally intended to relate to the post above or another comment. You comments suggests that CC has made this statement about the Opel GT. If we’ve made a mistake, I’m always eager to correct it. So where is this statement?
My comment referred to the main text above, below the panel with the four black and white photos.
In the meantime, Aaron Severson has explained in great detail in the comments section how things stood with the Opel GT. I therefore consider this point settled.
I got to drive a brand new 19 in 1990 when I was a teenager. A family friend was sales manager at a Renault dealer and let me drive it when he came for a visit. I wasn’t an experienced driver at the time, so can’t comment on how it drove, but I vividly remember the steering wheel wasn’t remotely in line with the driver’s seat. It was well over to the left, as were the 3 pedals (it was manual) in the RHD footwell. I’m unsure if the LHD models were similarly askew. After another 36 years of driving, I’ve learned plenty of other makes and models have had unaligned seats and steering wheels, and don’t even notice now. But to a very new driver, it was a little off-putting!