Peugeot 205 GTI | Vive La Mischief!

I believe every petrolhead has an inciting incident. That moment when the infant brain suddenly ‘clicks’, and things on wheels become not just interesting, but religion. 

Part of this dogma is the tendency to latch onto a particular marque. Some people choose the Porsche 911. Others, the BMW M3. 

I, clearly, make questionable life choices… because for me, it’s the Peugeot 205.

The 205 kicked off a lifelong love affair with French cars. Temperamental, fragile, occasionally baffling, but utterly brilliant. The little scamps…

Since then, I’ve worked my way through most of the usual suspects: 106 XSI, 206 GTI, Saxo VTS, more 205 variants than I care to admit, and the mighty 306 GTI-6 which, is flipping good fun, dont’cha know.

Now, in my mid-to-late-who’s-really-counting-anyway-thirties, I’ve had the chance to get back behind the wheel of not just the 1.9 GTI, but the 1.6 as well. And yes, I have a preference. Of course I do. But in the real world, the differences aren’t quite as dramatic as the spec sheet warriors would have you believe.

Many 205’s have lived… colourful lives. Max Power body kits, anti-social sound systems, or stripped out entirely for track day heroics. But can we really be angry about this? No. This is what we did.

Back then, you bought one for £1,500, ruined it, and sold it on for £900 to someone even less responsible. Engine swaps were practically a rite of passage, with Peugeot 405 Mi16 engines, 306 GTI-6 lumps being shoehorned into engine bays over the course of a long weekend.

And let me tell you, 167bhp in a 205 isn’t just ‘quick’. It’s not even ‘fast’. It’s deeply, and profoundly absurd. Like a clown fight. In a library.

Aside from the homologation special T16, (the utterly bananas 4WD Group-B rally weapon) the 1.9 GTI is your flagship enterprise.

The 1.9 got all the goodies. Half leather seats with cloth centres, 15-inch Speedline alloy wheels, brake discs all round and of the two engines, the 1.9 is probably the one I would choose for a longer journey, for the longer gear ratios and torque, primarily. 

All this came at a cost however. Which was the cost. In 1988 a fully loaded 1.9 GTI would set you back £9,930 -over three grand more than a high spec 1.6 GTI.  

A tough sell for any dealership. 

When launched in 1984, the 1.6 GTI came standard with 105 bhp. A revised cylinder head in 1987 brought the little XU5JA 8v engine up to a more respectable 115bhp. The absence of power steering and a shorter final drive ratio gearbox offered a visceral and engaging experience, getting you through the gears and up to speed with no time to lose. 

Good wholesome fun, by any measure. 

By late 1989, the 1.9 GTI got lumped with catalytic converters to satisfy emissions regulations. Good news for baby woodland creatures. Less good news for power figures. Output dropped from 128bhp to 122bhp.

Now, suddenly, there’s just 7bhp separating the two. Seven! At which point, many people quite sensibly thought, “Why am I paying more for this?”

While official sales figures prove elusive, sales of the 1.6 GTI far outstripped the bigger 1.9 GTI. It was cheaper to buy, cheaper to run, and nearly just as quick.

There’s a lot to love about the 205. Timeless style, nimble handling, a raspy exhaust note, but let’s not pretend it’s perfect.

The interior, for starters, is… well… dreadful. The plastics are cheap. Real cheap. Cadbury’s Milk Tray cheap. Remove a bit of trim to chase down a mystery rattle (and there’s always a rattle) and you’ll inevitably snap three clips, crack a panel, and cry in the corner for 15 minutes.

And finding replacements? Good luck. Owners now guard spare parts like an Amazonian tribe protecting a golden idol.

Still sounding like a good idea? Ready to open AutoTrader and upset the wife? Good.

I’ll do my best to reward your courage and impart some useful consumer advice…

Always buy on condition first. Whilst bodyshells post-1987 were made from zinc-galvanised steel, they are prone to corrosion in the engine bay and under the radiator, with areas around the rear quarter windows and sills a common home for corrosion. That being said, they’ve outlasted most of the competition from Ford and Renault.

A common misconception when viewing a GTI is the beige slam panel above the radiator. These were in fact beige from the factory, and with many 205’s seeing the wrong side of a farmers gate at one point or another, any potential purchase with a black or body coloured slam panel definitely deserves further questions. Serious questions. Possibly while putting your chequebook away.

If we remove condition for a moment, then the Holy Grail for collectors has to be the 1.9 GTI without a sunroof. There’s additional cool points up for grabs if you manage to cop one of the rare limited edition colours like Miami Blue, Sorrento or Lazer Green. 

But for driving? Honestly, the 1.6 GTI is the one to have. You won’t notice the slight drop in power, and even if you do, you won’t care. You’ll be far too busy enjoying yourself.

Yes, you’ll forgo a few ‘luxuries’ and have to settle for cloth seats, rear drum brakes and smaller 14-inch pepperpot alloy wheels. If you’re partial to a pepperpot wheel, it’s worth giving them a closer look when inspecting a potential buy. For maximum clout, you’ll want the Italian made Speedline version rather than the heavier SMR variant.

Now, if the £25–50k asking price for a good GTI sounds excessive, don’t panic. There is another way. 

If you can swing a left-hooker on UK roads, the Euro Rallye edition will earn a nod from those who know their stuff. Available only in white, with 13-inch steel wheels, and powered by a redline-chasing 1.3 TU 8v with twin Weber carburettors. It’s not fast on paper, putting out a modest 103bhp, but it delivers the sort of joy that makes you question why modern cars even bother.

Then there’s the XS. Another bombproof 1.4 TU 8v engine with 85bhp. Housed in an unassuming base model shell, they’re not GTI fast, but still pretty brisk, with a strong cult following. Their popularity as budget rally cars has made finding a complete example a less than straightforward process.  

The sheer nature of the 205 means that you don’t need an engine swapped monster to have fun. Even a lowly XE (which is about as poverty spec as you can achieve without hitching it to a mule) can be tremendously fun at 45mph down the back lanes.

The fragile construction amplifies the sensation of speed, reminding you that should a collision be unavoidable, the crumple zones are your legs and a serious maiming awaits you around every corner. 

Ask not for whom the Sainsbury’s van tolls. It tolls for thee.

And I suspect that’s why so many people eventually moved on from the 205 GTI. Usually, right around the time they had their first child. Because nothing sharpens your sense of mortality quite like driving what is, essentially, a crisp packet with wheels.

And yet, you tell yourself…

One day, you’ll have another one.

– Callum

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