Glad though I was to catch a Méhari or an older R4 when I went there recently, those are par for the course in southern France. Some younger cars have all but disappeared now: the Citroën GSA, the Peugeot 604, the Renault 14 or anything wearing a Talbot badge was already hard to find a decade ago, let alone today. But now, the next generation of bangers is fast disappearing. Such is the case of the 1986-94 Renault 21, especially Series 1 cars like this wagon. Attrition has really started to make these big Renaults a rare sight on their home turf nowadays. But they were never the unicorns that their American cousins were – quite the opposite.
It seems CC has had a couple of unicorn sightings from the Medallion side of the story, but the R21 has not graced this site’s pages so far. And that’s something of a pity, as beneath a rather bland exterior, it’s one of the strangest cars Renault ever did, in many ways.
21 flavours of 21 – above: Series 1 (1986-89) Turbo-D saloon; below: Series 2 1990-94 TXi hatchback
Said exterior is credited to Giugiaro, although the word is that the way the 21 left the Italdesign offices was pretty different from the finished product, which was extensively reworked by Renault’s own designers, then working under Robert Opron, to “soften” the car’s severe origami language a bit. The car’s conservative three-box design was a deliberate choice, in keeping with the R18 it was replacing, to woo southern Europeans and all the folks who thought the Citroën BX was just too “out there” for them. Ultimately though, the appeal of a hatchback variant proved too much for Renault to resist, and it joined the range when the 21 had its mid-life facelift for MY 1990.
Renault 21 Nevada, 1989 Dutch brochure
But the real star of the range was arguably the wagon, which appeared simultaneously with the notchback saloon in the summer of 1986. For some reason, Renault thought it needed a name, like the Fuego or the Espace. So they called it “Nevada” for most markets, though it was also clearly identified as a 21. Even more inexplicably, some markets (such as the UK) called theirs “Savanna.” The Nevada became something of a hit, as it was a genuine seven-seater, but much cheaper than the Citroën CX or the Peugeot 505 wagons – or the dangerously innovative Renault Espace.
The interior is certainly very ‘80s Renault, with all the cheap plastic and soft seats that term implies. The 21 was allegedly better-built than its immediate predecessors – Renaults of the early part of the decade had been shockingly poorly put together, even for the low standards of the era.
The 21 was part of a conscientious effort of the State-run carmaker’s part to improve its image through better quality control, but you can’t turn that sort of supertanker on a 10 centimes coin. By the early ‘90s though, toward the end of the 21’s career, things had improved noticeably on that front.
The 21 belongs to Renault’s infamous Era of Confusingly Numbered Models, which started in the early ‘60s and lasted until the ‘90s – the above example being from a 1978 German brochure. Roger Carr summed it all up in a very helpful post, which is highly recommended reading. It all sounds needlessly complicated to folks who weren’t born into it, but there was a sort of logic to Renault’s numbering system. The R4 was always the cheap one, single-digit cars were always pretty basic; anything in the teens was sort of family-sized, anything higher than that was in the 2-litre range, which is tantamount to sheer luxury in Renault-speak.
The thing about the 21 is that it was to replace the R18 (itself a rebodied R12, essentially) but take it to a slightly higher level so that it could also partially cover the defunct R20’s market segment, which was theoretically the R25’s job. The times were quite challenging at the State-owned firm, which was bleeding money – not just due to the AMC thing – and the 21 was therefore planned to accommodate existing technology. For instance, the four-torsion bar trailing-arm rear suspension was cribbed from the R5 Turbo, ditching the R12 / R18’s beam axle. The old technology was dropped and the new one adapted to new platforms, in other words. But the Renault engineers took this extremely commonplace and sensible practice to another level.
When the 21 was unveiled in July 1986, it was available (on the French market) with a choice of a carbureted 1.7 or a fuel-injected 2-litre petrol engine. The smaller engine was mounted transversely, like it was on the R9 / R11 (a.k.a the Encore / Alliance), but the 2-litre Douvrin kept the longitudinal layout used on the R25 and the Espace. The reason for this was that Renault did not have a transverse gearbox capable of dealing with the Douvrin’s 120hp and designing one from scratch would have cost over a billion francs. So they designed the car around this constraint, and it proved to be a workable solution.
This meant that depending on what was under your 21’s hood, your wheelbase would change (the transverse-engined ones were 2.4 inches longer, counterintuitively), as did your track, front suspension and steering rack. The same was true of the Diesels: the smaller 1.9s were east-west, but our CC has the larger 2.1 litre turbo, good for 88hp. The overall length of the car and the interior dimensions, however, remained the same, no matter what happened to power the front wheels.
Apart from North Americans, who looked at the Medallion like it had landed from Mars (with evil intentions to drain their bank account), most of the rest of the world took to the Renault 21 quite well. It was even assembled in Turkey, Colombia and Argentina as late as 1996, beyond its home market demise. Whether you wanted your 21 with extra seats or a separate trunk, petrol or Diesel, FWD or AWD, turbocharged and/or fuel-injected or carbureted, automatic or manual, basic plastic chic or trimmed to the brim, Renault would make one for you. Engine options ended up including a 2.2 litre 4-cyl., a turbocharged Douvrin that provided 180hp for folks in a real hurry, as well as a very modest 1.4 and 1.5 litre Cléon-fonte (available in some export markets) to broaden the 21’s appeal. No wonder they managed to shift over 2 million of the things in eight years.
The Nevada, for its part, became France’s top-selling family wagon by 1988 and stayed there for a while: there weren’t many that could match its capacious interior for its price. This, coupled with the R21’s bewildering array of engine, transmission and trim options, helped Renault sell over 375,000 breaks – a very healthy score for this type of variant.
It seems a number of these have joined countless Peugeots 504 and 505 wagons in being sentenced to a life of chassis-breaking labour in West Africa, although the rear suspension of the Renault is not known for its endurance. The Diesel engines, on the other hand, are as tough as any German or Japanese equivalent. I have no idea how this particular one managed to remain so well preserved, but I’m glad to have caught it out in the wild. They made quite a few of these, but they usually led a hard life, so numbers have dwindled considerably. Not quite Medallion-level scarcity, of course, but these big old Renaults are now firmly on the endangered list.
Related posts:
Curbside Classic: 1987 Renault Medallion Wagon – To Live Like “un Réfugié”, by Brendan Saur
As far as I recall (and I’m a bit hazy with this, and can’t find a source right now to back me up), there was some sort of bizarre controversy with the name Nevada.
After the wagon made the European car-show circuit (and had been named Nevada), I think a rumor emerged somehow that the State of Nevada claimed to posses a trademark on the name “Nevada” in English-speaking countries. The rumor was never substantiated (and I doubt that trademarking a geo-political name is even possible, especially Nevada, which is a Spanish word), but I think Renault changed the name to Savanna in the UK just to avoid the hassle of dealing with it.
Actual details on this may vary, but I think it was something to this effect. I’ll try to search a bit deeper later today and see if I can find anything about this…. and if anyone else remembers this story, I’d love to hear about it.
I’m also curious whether Savanna was used for any other market besides the UK, and if so, whether those markets were in non-English speaking countries.
That said, I do love these wagons, though here in the US, the chances of seeing one are vanishingly small.
Wow, I’ve been there and never heard of anything like that regarding Nevada™ brand American state…
That sounds like the kind of thing Texas would do, but Nevada? Someone here is sure to know.
…although Texas doesn’t seem to have a problem with the Chevy Silverado Texas Edition!
I did find somewhat of an answer to this question in the attached editorial from a Nevada newspaper journalist.
This article says that AutoWeek reported (in its 10/27/86 edition) that Renault changed the car’s name from Nevada to Savannah due to a trademark dispute with the State of Nevada. However, the author contacted both the Nevada Secretary of State’s office and AMC corporate offices, and no one in either of those places knew anything about such a trademark issue.
So… maybe such a dispute happened; maybe it didn’t. It would be odd for AutoWeek to have printed something completely fictitious, but then again, the idea of a state protecting its name via a trademark sounds awfully dubious.
I’d love to shine some more light on this oddity (after all, it stuck in my memory for a long time), but information about this is about as rare as Medallion wagons.
Back in the 1990’s a coworker friend inherited one of these wagons from a family member. It was a white over tan interior Eagle Medallion (US version) with low mileage and in good shape. She hated the car, but it got her wherever she needed to be without any problems.
Us coworkers would often go out for lunch together, and usually, she would drive us in the Eagle, We all come to the following conclusions. The car was ….. Weird, quirky, ugly, strange, bizarre, different, funky, etc.
I don’t know how, but we nick naked her car, “The Diesel Wagon”, even though it wasn’t a diesel powered car. We all felt that it should of been a diesel cause of it’s strangness.
One thing I remember… I used to make comments about the interior door panels how they looked like they were covered with terry cloth towels. So strange.
Having struggled into that third row as a 12 year old, and emerged barely able to walk, I would take issue with “genuine 7 seater”.
This meant that depending on what was under your 21’s hood, your wheelbase would change (the transverse-engined ones were 2.4 inches longer, counterintuitively),
Counterintuitively? Seems rather obvious to me, since the longitudinal engine versions had their engines hanging out in front of the transaxle, a la Audi. That rather obviously necessitates that the front wheels need to be positioned relatively further back, which is why the Audis (and R12/18 etc.) have rather long front overhangs.
The R21 wagon was so roomy because it had a 4″ longer wheelbase than the sedan, something not mentioned in the article. Combined with FWD, that allowed for the front facing third row. I don’t have time to look it up, but I assume the wagon only came with the larger transverse engines, otherwise there would have been four different wheelbases in the R21 family.
There were transverse and longitudinal engines in wagons, so four wheelbases. I think the scarce 4wd was different again, though only marginally.
Imagine if they’d used the 16s rear suspension – eight wheelbases!
I like European design of this era. When the Rabbit/Golf arrived, it took the minimalist straight edged and well proportioned auto design to, in my opinion, a higher plane. There is a drastic difference between these and a K-Car wagon. (I actually like the design of the K-Car wagons, but these were even better, in my opinion.) The differences are in the proportions and balance of the shapes used throughout. I also like the dash and interior designs. There was a nice difference between many European styled vehicles, and US designs at the time.
However, the Taurus changed everything. I remember the year before, marveling at the Aero Thunderbird and the style statement Ford made with their new Aero designs. Forget the Tempo/Topaz – Ford’s Aero-look was a powerful rethinking of auto design. Perhaps Ford’s failure to understand the straight-edged minimalism coming from European manufacturers, Ford changed auto design when its near-death early 1980s market failure could be partly linked to its design, (exception Mustang). So Telnack changed the design rules.
Nice designs, these Renaults.
Great article….but Columbia is a university, a district, and many other things. The country is Colombia 🙂
Not to mention British! How un-Gallic of moi. I will amend that as soon as.
My dad had a Savanna in the early nineties and I put a reasonable number of miles on it myself. After a string of Cortinas, a 504 and a Volvo 245 it felt different – it felt modern. It had a spacious quiet interior, great handling and was an excellent mile eater. Doing 80+ on the motorway felt relaxed and solid, unlike any of his previous cars.
A reliable and capable vehicle, I have nothing but fond memories.
Have to disagree, Mr 87, about the styling of the original 21. It’s got a subtle sort of chic to me, in the same way the ’82 Audi 100 jumps out despite its smoothness. Mind you, that facelifted hatchback blobs over all that subtlety, and looks like a non-brand non-car, so I do get the other point of view.
Also mind you that 2 million is really quite over-doing it, they’re not THAT decent! also sounds so improbable in a country where about 21 21’s sold at comedy prices to Renault diehards with large wallets. The few reviews said, “It’s really, really…ok, and at half the price, might rise to almost good”, or thereabouts.
No wagons at all, alas. I really do like the style of these. Long may they clutter the French landscape.
I had R21 series I beige sedan – looking exactly like picture #3. I still like the design of the series I, IMHO looking much better than the facelifted model. Engine was 1.7 l with 90 hp, and it felt pretty quick for the time (official 0 – 62 mph number is 10.7 seconds, but it felt much quicker than that).
It was also very roomy, with quiet and comfortable ride, so it was all good, right?
Wrong!
It was the worst piece of c..p in my long list of crappy cars, I got to know all Renault mechanics in the proximity of my house (and some much further away). I don’t even remember everything that went wrong with that car, but the worse by far was a tendency to ditch all the coolant fluid at once, without any warning signs.
One moment it was fine and dandy, coolant temperature right in the middle, and then “pffffffft” and it is all gone.
Being said that, I don’t agree with the generalization that all French car are bad. Au contraire, my Citroens and Peugeots were pretty decent cars.