Renault 4 Plein Sud: Should You Spec This Suv As A 'convertible'?

You simply couldn’t write it. It hadn’t rained in nearly nine weeks, but naturally the second I took my seat in the first ‘convertible’ I’d driven in the UK for almost three years, the radio announced the imminent (and belated) arrival of some classic summer showers. It’s the cliché to end all clichés.

This, then, is the Plein Sud (that’s ‘Due South’ for any Francophobes) – the new canvas-topped version of the Renault 4 that I’ve been running for the past few months, and technically it’s the first convertible SUV since the demise of the surprisingly successful Volkswagen T-Roc Cabriolet.

With the first examples now making their way to UK customers, I thought I’d take advantage of the unremitting heatwave to sample this high-riding, hair-flapping proposition and see if it makes any sense – or if there’s a good reason it’s the only such car in its class.

More fool me. But happily the rain held off for a couple of days after I swapped out of my hard-top R4 (alas, not for long enough that I could take the photo below without getting my expertly coiffed hair wet), and I managed to enjoy some open-air larks once I’d applied some factor 50 to my nose.

Aside from a smidge of extra headroom and a small control panel in the roof, the Plein Sud is identical to the standard R4; you only really clock the difference when the 92cm-long panel is rolled back and bunched up above the boot.

The lid can be opened at speeds of up to 56mph and takes about 10 seconds to complete its manoeuvre. That sounds quick but feels longer because you have to keep the switch applied for the entire process, so it’s best to do it at a standstill.

A small mesh wind deflector pops out above the windscreen; it does its job well but did catch a fair few flies in my short time at the wheel, and I’m not sure how you’d go about cleaning it.

As you might expect, the effect of opening the top isn’t especially transformative. It extends much further back than a traditional sunroof but still stops just short of the rear passengers’ heads. But in a market so starved of affordable convertible options, we should be happy with what we’ve got – and it’s quite easy to be just that on a sunny day in the Plein Sud.

Buffeting is impressively minimised up to a point, and it only got a bit blustery and noisy above 50mph. The deflector helps to channel wind up and over the car, which stops your quiff from quivering and means you can maintain a conversation with your passenger. Importantly, it also means you can enjoy your ‘summer drive’ playlist unimpeded, without cranking the stereo volume up to antisocial levels.

An unexpected bonus was the extra load capacity it offers – as I was thrilled to discover when I collected a tall piece of furniture that wouldn’t have fitted in the standard R4 but which was happily accommodated in the Plein Sud, poking slightly out of the roof.

The jollity takes a knock when you thread between two buses at a junction and the interior starts to fill with the heady aroma of spent diesel, and you do wonder if passengers on the upper decks are examining your receding hairline. But you don’t feel half as exposed as you would in, say, a Mini Cooper Convertible or a Mazda MX-5.

With prices starting from just £27,445 (or £29,445 as tested here in Iconic trim), the Plein Sud is one of just two sub-£30k soft-top EVs on sale, the other being the vastly less capacious and shorter-range Fiat 500e Convertible. It also commands a relatively small £1500 premium over the standard R4.

Is it worth that? Well, it’s a bit like having a swimming pool in the UK: you’ll really enjoy it for a few days of the year, but it’s unlikely to see much action when the weather reverts to type and you might wish you had spent the money elsewhere.