If you've ever visited one of our Gligora cheese & deli shops, you've surely noticed the motif of an old, red Renault 4. No, we didn't hire hipsters to do retro marketing for us. That car is a true legend of our family and business. To reveal the real truth about our mascot, we handed the keyboard over to our director, Šime Gligora. He briefly closed his Excel spreadsheets and decided to share the firsthand story with you.
Šime, the floor is yours:
Way back in 1989, my father was buying a new car. At the time, we were still living in Zadar, but he and my mom were already mentally packing their bags to return to his hometown of Kolan on the island of Pag.
The choice came down to two models: the more modern Renault 5 and the proven classic – the Renault 4. Since returning to Kolan meant getting into agriculture (more as a hobby back then, rather than a business masterplan), the practicality of the legendary "Four" won. Besides, at that time in Kolan, every other yard had at least one R4. It was the unofficial island Jeep.
My sister Marina and I didn't share this enthusiasm. We were, to put it mildly, devastated. Even in 1989, the car looked like it had escaped from the set of a black-and-white movie. The best proof of how bitter we were is the fact that we seriously missed our old Yugo! I mean, that Yugo constantly smelled of gasoline and regularly made me carsick, but hey – at least it looked more modern than that box.
Little did we know that this "outdated" car would leave such a mark on our lives.
The First (and Only) Official Company Vehicle
When we moved to Kolan, my father ran it into the ground going from work to the fields. And then came the year 1994. My father started a small dairy in the basement of our house, and – you guessed it – our R4 became the first, only, and main official company vehicle.
I remember him driving it in the middle of winter, during the worst blizzard, all the way to Karlovac just to register the company at the only competent commercial court at the time. Today, people won't go out for coffee if it's raining, but he was plowing through snowdrifts in a tin can on four wheels because – when you're starting from zero, you don't check the weather forecast. You just get in and drive.
Everyone thinks the R4 is a small car, but you'd be surprised by what can fit inside. For its time, it had a massive trunk, and when you took the rear seats out, it transformed into a real cargo van. It hauled milk, whey, cheeses, tools...
And when the first real van finally arrived at the company, our "Four" didn't go into a well-deserved retirement. It just got new assignments. Believe it or not, sheep used to catch a ride in it too. In short, I don't think there's a cargo in this world that this car hasn't tried to transport.
Advanced Maintenance Philosophy: Put Gas in it and Drive
Of course, the Renault 4 was also my first car. I did my first driving at around sixteen on dirt roads, and later came the nights out and teenage shenanigans that, for the sake of my personal reputation, we'll skip in this text.
We didn't pamper it. There was no parking it in a garage, Sunday polishing, or shining it up for car shows. It was a pure workhorse. Our maintenance philosophy was highly advanced: put gas in it and drive. I remember when someone once casually asked me if I had changed its oil. I looked at them in sheer amazement:
"Wait, this car uses oil too?!"
And it drove. For years. In the end, we practically gave it away. It was completely exhausted, banged up, falling apart from all sides, but it still started and drove. I think that car simply didn't know how to die.
The Return of the Legend to Kolan
About twenty years later, nostalgia hit me. I started digging through classified ads, purely for fun, looking for a well-preserved R4.
And then, right in the middle of Zadar, there it was: a red Renault 4 GTL. Almost identical to our old one. It had been sitting in a garage for thirty years, had only 22,000 kilometers on the clock, and looked like it had rolled off the assembly line yesterday.
I called my father and told him in a single sentence: "We're going to buy it, no matter how much it costs."
And so, the R4 returned to the family. It’s been with us for six years now. Today, he is a gentleman of a certain age. He only leaves the garage when it's sunny outside, and exclusively for coffee runs or a leisurely drive. He doesn't haul milk anymore. Or tools. And thank God, he no longer hauls sheep. Today, he only hauls memories.
The best moment happened when I first brought it back from Zadar. I handed the keys to my father and said: "Go on, take mom for a spin around Kolan."
They got in, took it for a drive, and came back. Everything was great. But as my father handed the keys back, he looked at me and said seriously:
"Listen, Šime. You drive it, but I won't anymore. This car reminds you of your good old youth and fooling around, but it reminds me of the hardest days of my life."
I think the entire point lies in that sentence.
The exact same piece of sheet metal carries completely different stories. To me, the R4 is a symbol of youth and carefreeness. To my father, it's a symbol of uncertainty, sweat, and those days when we were trying to build something out of nothing.
More Than Just Marketing
And there you have it—that is exactly why the little red Renault 4 is the mascot of our Gligora cheese & deli shops today. Not because it’s "vintage," "retro," or cute for Instagram. It’s there to keep us grounded.
Today, our dairy is large, our trucks are modern, and our cheeses travel much farther than the old "Four" ever could have reached. But we don't want to forget where we started.
Before all those refrigerated trucks, world awards, and a modern webshop, there was just a tin can on four wheels, a whole lot of stubbornness, and an incredible will to work. Back then, that was everything to us. And as it turned out – it was all we needed.
