The joys of mad, old French cars

Irresistibly French

I like many old French cars, not because I think are any better than those made elsewhere. I just love their distinctive character and, well, their sheer bloody-minded ‘Frenchness.’

Sadly, this is less true today than it used to be (Renault Fluence anyone?). But among the plethora of deadly dull diesel-powered family cars, there have been still some real gems produced by French car makers in recent times.

Take the Clio’s and Megane’s from Renault Sport, the current Alpine A110. O, the wacky electric Renault Twizy. The latter as wonderfully daft as only a French car/quadricycle could be. Even Peugeot is showing signs of returning to form once again. Citroen? Not just yet, unfortunately.

The answers to questions nobody asked

The heyday of the idiosyncratic and often technically advanced French automobile era was probably the fifties. It continues through to the seventies, although increasingly pragmatic management still didn’t prevent the production of a few cars that were reassuringly illogical, and therefore even more attractive to motoring Francophiles like me. I mean who signed off on the Renault Avantime, the coupe/grand tourer/people carrier, with seating for, um, just four passengers? It made no sense at all, which just adds to the appeal somehow.

Then there’s the Clio V6, with an engine where you would expect to find a back seat. Now, I’m aware Renault R5 Turbo started the mid-engined hatchback concept back in 1980, but that was a homologation special which enabled Renault to be competitive in rallying.  

The Clio V6 wasn’t noticeably faster than the FWD Clio variants and proved that sticking a big, relatively heavy V6 in the middle of a small hatchback wasn’t a good idea unless your idea of fun was to be scared witless on any winding road. You can see how quickly it can go from nicely balanced to OMG oversteer on the EVO magazine test track. Needless to say, I’ve always fancied one, despite the handling waywardness. 

My personal French wacky favourites

When it comes to weirdness, there’s a huge variety of French cars to choose from: in no particular order here are a few of my personal favourites:

Panhard Dyna Z sedan

Panhard 24CT coupe

Citroen Ami 6

Citroen H van

Citroen SM

Matra Djet
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DB Panhard

Voisin (any of them!).

All of them are technically innovative and quite brilliant in ways that are uniquely and gloriously French. If I had the wherewithal and a large barn I’d own an example of every one of them.

See a video of the Voisin C25 Aerodyne here.

Secret physics, unique to French cars

Another desirable characteristic of even the most snail-like, old French cars is how they could be hustled along at the most unlikely speeds. I recall a memorable time when I was chasing a mate’s Lancia Beta 2000 coupe down deserted, twisty Sussex lanes late at night in my trusty Citroen Dyane. He couldn’t shake me for a good 20 hilarious miles until the road began to climb and he disappeared over the crest.

Technically astute people could probably explain why ridiculously soft springs, minimal damping, skinny Michelin X tyres and a lofty C of G should result in a car with astonishing good road-holding. I can’t, I just know the combination has saved my bacon on numerous occasions when my enthusiasm exceeded common sense.

All the French cars I used to own (or borrowed) in the seventies and eighties seemed to share the same fail-safe characteristics regardless of size – Peugeot 403, Citroen 2CV, Bijou Coupe ( a British 2CV variant with a fibreglass body), Dyane, Renault 4, 5,16, Citroen GS, DS23, BX, CX and many others. All were relatively slow, comfortable cars that would thrive on being driven at implausible speeds, regardless of the road surface, or how treacherous the bends. They just seem to hang on and on – in the dry at least.

Fun at (very) slow speeds

Of course, many of the attributes (and downsides) of the most notable French cars of the past are too well known to recount here. What I do find interesting though, is how relevant those qualities are today. Away from the race track, it’s very difficult to find somewhere to properly drive any fast modern car without risking the loss of your driving license. Whether a Golf GTi or a Mclaren, when you’re just tooling around they offer about 5% fun and 95% frustration, unless you live in the Dolomites, or close to the Nurburgring. 

Whereas if you’re driving, say, a Citroen 2CV, you can be sure your attention and involvement will be required at any speed above walking pace. You will be concentrating on maintaining momentum, changing gear (twist/pull/push) at the critical revs, taking bends at the highest speed and keeping braking to the absolute minimum – 95% fun and 10% frustration, such as when you encounter something seriously problematic, like an incline. All the while you can be assured you be having a ball without necessarily breaking the speed limit.

As bought by motoring journalists

Just ask two noted hard- driving UK-based motor journalists, Chris Harris and Andrew Frankel, both of whom regularly drive insanely fast and expensive exotics for a living and race successfully on the weekend. Both own and adore their early Citroen 2CV’s for all the reasons stated above. 

See Chris Harris in his Citroen 2CV here.

Buy, or not to buy?

Nowadays, I live in the Blue Mountains region of New South Wales, in Australia (about 100kms west of Sydney) and there are no interesting French cars in my garage, and I’m often pondering whether I should buy another Gallic charmer to pop down to the shops in. Unfortunately, most early Citroens in decent condition are quite rare over here and surprisingly expensive. A Citroen 2CV now costs more than a used, luxurious Citroen C6, arguably the last of the real Citroen’s. An illogical comparison? Not for my petrolhead brain.

Meanwhile, an old car nutter pal of mine, and Sydney resident, has gone completely bonkers and bought a pre-war Traction Avant Citroen in France and is having it restored in London. I think I should just listen to updates on this project and, by the time I’ve heard how much it has cost and how long it has taken to complete, I might be able to expel this yearning for Gallic motoring from my system. Only time will tell if common sense will prevail.