Renault Clio 200 sport

THIS trend is starting to worry me. And it’s starting to cost me serious money.
When my six-month test of the Commodore SS-V Redline ute came to an end mid-2011, I strongly considered buying it. I’d grown attached to the brawny V8 ute, absorbed its many and varied strengths into my lifestyle and been very happy with our utilitarian and sporting partnership.

My wife found my affections for that Aussie-made ute hard to understand. I think she was a bit jealous. Then, when my Suzuki Swift Sport long-termer concluded mid-2012, I thought
long and hard about buying it. The spiritual successor to the Swift GTi wasn't the best light hot hatch, but it had a nuggetty character that, for me, glossed over its flaws.

So I bought it. And promptly lost it to the missus, who made the six-speed manual mighty mouse her daily driver. Since then, she's clocked up close to 60,000km in two years, and not even two panel bending mishaps neither of which were her fault have dimmed her enthusiasm for the little blue meanie.

Until now. This month is our last with the Renault Clio RS Sport. And the other day Jen sent me a text at work. “What would it cost us to trade the Swift in on the Renault?” It’s not difficult to see why. Compared with the Swift’s free-revving 1.6-litre four, the Clio’s turbocharged 1.6 is a monster. It delivers more torque at 1750 rpm than the Swift musters at its 4000 rpm peak, and that translates into easier daily driving, not to mention a more spirited getaway from the lights yes, Jenny is a closet hoon.

The Clio’s transmission is clunky off the line, but smoother through the gears. And, despite her affection for DIY shifting in the Swift, Jen’s liking the no fuss nature of the Clio’s dual clutch auto.

The Clio is costing more to feed about 25 percent more but the numbers are still well within our weekly fuel budget.

The Clio Sport has a softer ride than the more expensive Cup model, but it still runs rings around the Swift, and it has a less jiggly ride.

Jen’s not just fond of the Clio’s sportier nature and extra grunt. She’s a big fan of its 300-litre boot, too, a considerable increase on the Swift’s narrow 210-litre letterbox.

Aside from that obvious benefit, the Clio’s cabin is not as much of a step up as you’d expect in terms of usability. But it does look and feel a class above, and has a few notable additions over the Swift, sat-nav being the most useful.

So now Team Butler has to take a magnifying glass to its accounts and find a few thousand scheckels to cover the changeover price.

Actually, it’s more than that. The $23K Swift’s resale value (63 percent after three years) may be among the strongest in its class, but her majesty’s high mileage means the changeover to a near-new Clio RS Sport (MSRP: $28,290) will require about $12K. And that’s provided we decide to sell the Swift privately to maximise our return.

But before we sign ourselves into debt, I need more time to think this through. For me, buying the Swift was a one-off, an anomaly. If we buy the Clio, if we buy a second long-term test car, that turns it into a trend.

There’s really nothing wrong with the Swift. It has clocked up those kilometres without a single mechanical hiccup. So why ditch it for something that’s faster, fresher and more expensive, but really just does the same job? Am I jumping on the automotive equivalent of the smartphone upgrade merry-go-round?

Where will it end?