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This Renault Twizy Now Makes Supercar Torque

The Renault Twizy was never meant to be quick. It was meant to be clever. Narrow. Urban. A rolling answer to the question, “What if a car was mostly door?” With its tandem seating, sci-fi plastic bodywork, and scissor doors that looked like they’d been borrowed from a rejected Tron sequel, the Twizy carved out a niche as the world’s most charming electric appliance.

Speed? Not its department.

Which is precisely why the lunatics at DM Performance decided it needed 80 horsepower and enough torque to bend reality.

The Mild-Mannered EV Goes Full Supervillain

The build begins the only way these stories ever do: with violence. Out came the Twizy’s factory 17-hp (13-kW) motor, a unit that treated acceleration as a polite suggestion. In its place went the powertrain from a Stark Varg—currently the electric equivalent of a 450cc motocross bike, and about as subtle as a brick through a greenhouse.

The numbers are absurd. Power jumps to 80 hp (60 kW), a 396-percent increase that turns the Twizy’s résumé from “reliable intern” to “HR liability.” But horsepower is only half the story. The Stark Varg motor is rated at 692 lb-ft (938 Nm) of torque.

Yes. Six hundred and ninety-two.

For perspective, a Lamborghini Aventador makes 509 lb-ft. A Ram 1500 TRX—a two-and-a-half-ton monument to supercharged excess—delivers 680 lb-ft. The Twizy now produces more twist than both, in something that looks like it should be parked next to rental e-scooters.

Torque is what you feel. And in a vehicle this small, this light, and this fundamentally unprepared for such nonsense, torque is everything.

Surgery, Not a Swap

Fitting motocross-bike fury into a French quadricycle required more than optimistic zip ties. DM Performance removed the original rear cradle entirely and fabricated a custom mounting solution. The Twizy’s direct-drive transaxle gave way to a bespoke chain-drive setup—because nothing says “this will end well” like industrial chain noise behind your seat.

To stop the differential from instantly converting itself into glitter, the team engineered a custom stainless-steel casing and packed it with high-pressure grease to approximate limited-slip behavior. It’s less “OEM refinement” and more “mechanical deterrence.”

Then came suspension. A set of Maxpeedingrods coilovers was bolted in to reduce body roll—and, presumably, reduce the likelihood of the Twizy attempting to reenact a gymnast’s floor routine mid-corner.

Lighter. Meaner. Slightly Unhinged.

The original 100-kg (220-lb) battery was replaced by the Stark Varg’s 32-kg (70-lb) pack. It’s lighter, slightly higher in capacity, and capable of discharging energy at a rate that suggests it holds grudges.

The result is a machine that weighs a fraction of conventional performance cars while delivering torque figures that belong in a pickup truck brochure. Power-to-weight here isn’t impressive. It’s irresponsible.

Drag Strips and Donuts

The resulting “Stark Twizy” didn’t stay in the workshop. It lined up against an Audi S1 Quattro in a 100-mph drag race—and won. Let that settle in. A vehicle originally designed for European city centers just outran a rally-bred hot hatch to triple-digit speeds.

Then the builders took it drifting. And because subtlety is clearly not in the business plan, they performed donuts around a Lamborghini Aventador—a scene that feels less like a comparison test and more like performance art.

Not Their First Bad Idea

This isn’t DM Performance’s first experiment in miniature mayhem. They previously built a Stark-powered Citroën Ami, though they admitted the Twizy’s rear-wheel-drive layout makes it a better canvas for hooliganism.

And if electric chaos doesn’t satisfy your appetite, they’ve also created a turbocharged, Hayabusa-swapped tuk-tuk trike producing 305 hp in a 460-kg package. That’s less a vehicle and more a physics demonstration.

The Point of It All

The Twizy was once a symbol of urban efficiency. Now it’s proof that the electric age doesn’t have to be sterile. It can be loud (mechanically), sideways, and deeply, profoundly silly.

Car enthusiasts often ask whether EVs can be fun. The answer, apparently, is yes—provided you’re willing to install motocross-bike torque into something the size of a vending machine.

Somewhere in France, an engineer who worked on the original Twizy is staring at the ceiling, sensing a disturbance in the force.

And in a small UK workshop, someone is probably looking at a lawnmower and thinking, “Eighty horsepower should do it.”

Source: DM Performance

NEW CARS

Opel Corsa YES Special Edition

For five consecutive years, Germany’s best-selling small car hasn’t worn a VW badge. It’s been the Opel Corsa—a quietly competent, sharply priced supermini that’s built its empire on sensible virtues. Now, Opel is asking a different question: What if sensible could also shout?

Enter the Corsa YES special edition, now dipped in something called Koral Orange. And no, this isn’t your garden-variety traffic-cone hue. It’s metallic, it’s saturated, and it’s unapologetically attention-seeking. In a segment where grayscale still dominates dealership forecourts, Opel has essentially handed its bestseller a highlighter.

Orange Is the New Sensible

The new Koral Orange paint doesn’t arrive alone. A carbon-black roof and 16-inch BiColour Diamond-cut alloys in black and silver give the Corsa a bit of visual tension—like it’s wearing a tailored suit with bright sneakers. The effect works. It’s sporty without trying too hard, youthful without veering into cartoon territory.

Inside, Opel keeps the theme cohesive. The black “Banda” seats wear a premium leather-look finish with orange stitching and stripes that echo the exterior. Matching accents stretch across the doors and instrument panel, while a black headliner adds a touch of seriousness to balance the flair. It’s coordinated in a way that suggests actual designers were involved, rather than a parts-bin color experiment.

And yes, the steering wheel—flat-bottomed and wrapped in vegan leatherette—comes standard. In 2026, sustainability isn’t a bonus feature; it’s table stakes. Opel knows this.

Digital by Default

The real surprise here isn’t the paint—it’s the standard equipment list. Unlike many special editions that lean heavily on cosmetic upgrades, the Corsa YES brings substance.

Every version, whether petrol, hybrid, or fully electric, now features fully digital displays as standard. That means a 10-inch central touchscreen paired with a 7-inch digital driver display. No analog dials sneaking in on the cheaper trims. No “upgrade required” asterisks. Just screens, everywhere.

Connectivity and infotainment are baked in, not bolted on. It’s the kind of move that keeps a volume seller competitive in a segment where buyers increasingly expect their €24,000 hatchback to feel like a downsized luxury car.

The Price Stays Put

Here’s the part that feels almost rebellious: despite the new metallic paint and the expanded equipment list, Opel hasn’t raised the price. The Corsa YES still starts at €24,340 in Germany.

That’s a bold play in a market where “special edition” often translates to “special invoice.” Opel is effectively refreshing its top seller without punishing the buyer. For a car that already dominates its segment, that’s less a tweak and more a strategic flex.

Add-Ons Without the Guilt

If you’re the type who treats an options list like a buffet, Opel offers a couple of reasonably priced packages.

The €150 Comfort Pack adds an electric parking brake (standard on the electric version), a center armrest with storage, and a second remote key. It’s the kind of practical upgrade that feels underpriced in today’s market.

Then there’s the €700 YES Tech Package, bundling a 130-degree reversing camera, front and rear parking sensors, heated and electrically adjustable mirrors, and keyless start. It’s not groundbreaking tech, but in a B-segment hatch, it nudges the Corsa closer to compact-class comfort.

And if Koral Orange feels like too much caffeine for your taste, Opel also offers the YES edition in Eucalyptus Green—still coordinated with matching interior accents—for the same €700 premium over standard colors.

Standing Out in a Sea of Small Cars

Opel’s Patrick Dinger calls the Corsa a customer favorite, and the sales charts back him up. But success in the small-car segment isn’t static. Buyers want value, yes—but they also want personality.

The updated Corsa YES doesn’t reinvent the formula that made it Germany’s small-car champion. Instead, it amplifies it. More color. More digital hardware. More standard features. Same price.

In a class defined by compromise, the Corsa YES makes a simple statement: you don’t have to blend in just because your car fits in.

Source: Opel

NEW CARS

VW Golf GTI Roadster

Half a century after three simple letters rewired the hot-hatch formula, Volkswagen is throwing itself a birthday party the only way it knows how: by reminding us just how far the GTI idea can be stretched before it snaps.

Fifty years ago, the original Volkswagen Golf GTI turned an ordinary hatchback into a cult object. Since then, the badge has migrated to smaller siblings—the Polo, the Lupo, even the up!—and briefly to the swoopy Volkswagen Scirocco GTI. There was even a whisper of a Passat GTI prototype at one point. But in the public imagination, GTI means Golf. Always has, probably always will.

And yet, to celebrate its golden anniversary, Volkswagen is shining the spotlight not on a tidy special edition or a modest power bump, but on something far more unhinged: the Volkswagen Golf GTI Roadster.

Originally conceived in 2014 as a virtual fever dream for the Gran Turismo 6, the GTI Roadster was the kind of concept that only makes sense when the laws of physics and federal crash standards are optional. Most remember it in red or white, all angles and aggression. For 2026, it returns wearing a deep green finish—likely a nod to the dark moss green metallic reserved for the anniversary Volkswagen Golf GTI Edition 50.

If the standard Golf GTI has always been evolution over revolution, the Roadster is a full-blown rebellion.

Yes, it started life as a Mk7 underneath. But Volkswagen lopped off the roof, ditched the rear seats, and wrapped the remaining structure in an entirely new body. The C-pillars were repurposed into dramatic roll hoops. The doors? They swing skyward in full supercar cosplay. From the vented hood to the towering rear wing, there’s barely a trace of sensible hatchback left. This isn’t a GTI turned up to 11; it’s a GTI that ran off and joined a touring-car championship on another planet.

Because it was never destined for production, Volkswagen’s designers were free to ignore the usual buzzkills—pedestrian impact regulations, cost targets, the concept of practicality. The result looked far more outrageous than the stillborn Volkswagen BlueSport, a mid-engined roadster that once seemed like a plausible halo car before quietly fading into history.

Under the hood louvers sat something no production GTI has ever dared to house: a twin-turbocharged 3.0-liter V6 good for 510 horsepower and 560 Nm of torque. It drove through a seven-speed dual-clutch DSG gearbox, but instead of spinning just the front wheels—as every GTI had done before—the Roadster sent power to all four corners via 4Motion. In that sense, it was closer in philosophy to the all-paw Volkswagen Golf R than to its front-drive siblings.

Performance claims were appropriately supercar-baiting. Volkswagen said the Roadster would rocket from 0 to 100 km/h in 3.6 seconds and top out at 309 km/h. That made it a tenth quicker to 100 than the wild Volkswagen Golf GTI W12-650—though the Bentley-powered W12 ultimately held the higher terminal velocity at 325 km/h. Yes, there was a time when Volkswagen stuffed a W12 behind the seats of a Golf. The Roadster feels almost restrained by comparison.

Almost.

Despite losing its roof, the GTI Roadster wasn’t a featherweight. At 1,421 kilograms, it was actually a touch heavier than the three-door Mk7 GTI, the last of the simpler, purer body styles. Blame the all-wheel-drive hardware, the larger V6, the massive brakes, and those center-lock 20-inch wheels wrapped in rubber measuring 235/35 ZR20 up front and a steamroller-like 275/30 ZR20 out back.

In other words, this was no stripped-out track toy. It was a rolling what-if—a glimpse at what happens when you take a democratic performance icon and let the engineers fantasize without accountants hovering nearby.

The genius of the GTI has always been its balance: usable performance, everyday livability, attainable price. The Roadster flips that formula on its head. It is impractical, excessive, and gloriously unnecessary. And that’s precisely why it works as a 50th-anniversary celebration.

Because sometimes, the best way to honor a legend isn’t to polish it—it’s to imagine what it would look like with the volume knob snapped clean off.

Source: Volkswagen