Citroën, probably more than any mainstream marque, has built its name on technological innovation and design flair.
Founder André Citroën (1878-1935) began his automotive career by perfecting the double-helical gear principle and a manufacturing process for it. He later designed the famous double-chevron company logo.
During the Great Depression, he came up with the idea of developing the world’s first front-wheel drive mass-production model, and the French company would also be revolutionary in its use of monocoque construction (as opposed to a body bolted to a chassis frame).
His Traction Avant (later the Light Fifteen) made its debut in 1934 to rapturous response. Independent front suspension by torsion bars, hydraulic brakes, no running boards, a wide stance and low height were other standout features.
But in 1934 the health of both Citroën’s founder and the company’s finances went into decline. Principal creditor, Michelin, took over.
By 1953, Citroën was ready to introduce its revolutionary hydro-pneumatic suspension system. The Diesse (meaning goddess) was probably too complex for its own good in 1955. The hydro-pneumatics even powered the steering, brakes, gearchange and clutch pedal. In May 1957, the simpler ID19 was added to the range.
The ID19 quickly outsold the DS and was assembled in Australia where it was known as the ID19 Parisienne. In 1968 Citroën swallowed Maserati and created its most collectible car, the SM.
Price ranges here were established in consultation with Shannons National Auctions Manager Christophe Boribon.
Comparatively few 2CVs were sold her during the mid-1950s and a price tag of £782 ($1564), three quid dearer than an Austin A30 four-door sedan, didn’t help persuade many Australians to buy the ugliest and most gutless car available.
But gradually the quaint Gallic charm of the model drove prices higher, helped by the importation of a few jazzed-up Charleston editions in the 1980s.
Less is more and you can’t get much less than a 1950s 2CV with a top speed of 45mph (72km/h).
This surpassingly beautiful super coupe represents no-holds-barred dreaming within the Citroën brand, doubtless enlivened by its 1968 acquisition of Maserati.
It was conceived as a supercar – a continent-devouring GT coupe – to restore the prestige France had enjoyed when Delahayes, Delages, Talbot-Lagos and Bugattis strode the roads of Europe.
At the same, this new Citroën with its all-alloy quad-camshaft 2.7-litre Maserati V6 engine would drive the marque – and, it was thought, the entire French industry – upmarket.
By combining a newly created Maserati engine with Citroën’s trademark hydro-pneumatic self-levelling suspension, fully-powered high-pressure braking and steering, the SM would showcase the marque’s radical front-wheel-drive technology. In 1972 a top speed of 140mph (225km/h) was phenomenal.
It used a very strong monocoque, of which the roof was an integral part. This was an immensely strong car with what amounted to a safety cage for the occupants.
The SM was the ultimate engineer’s car, built to the company’s fantasy rather than being based on market research. What other car has a rear track nearly eight inches narrower than the front, and a shape tapering to the rear when viewed from a drone?
And what other car has six separate Cibié quartz halogen headlights complete with self-levelling and swivel functions? (The lights and number plate were housed behind a curved glass nose.)
In the European autumn of 1973 came the first Energy Crisis. Michelin found itself forced to sell Citroën. New owner Peugeot soon cut Maserati adrift. The SM was doomed.
The SM was a flop in the US. Indeed, in the early years of this century numerous cheap SMs were brought into Australia from there and converted to right-hand-drive; that supply is now drying up and prices are rising rapidly.
As with any hydro-pneumatic Citroën, it is critical to make sure that the car has been properly serviced by a specialist.
As a member of the three-car, nine-driver Citroën team that competed in the 1992 James Hardie 12-Hour Race for production cars, I am biased towards this remarkable compact model.
This was Peter McLeod’s team – he won the 1987 Bathurst 1000 with Peter Brock and David Parsons in a VL Commodore – and it was appropriate that he drove the class-winning BX and finished eighth outright.
Neither of the other two Citroëns finished, one having a clutch failure and ‘my’ car going into the wall when one of the other drivers stayed out one lap too long before coming in for tyres.
That contest between Peugeot and Citroën was compelling because both cars competed in the market. They shared many components, chiefly the engine and transmission, but the BX was much lighter at 1070kg, had lower overall gearing thanks to 14-inch wheels.
Designed by Bertone, the BX carried intimations of its CX elder cousin. The hatchback and roomy interior made it a practical sports sedan in the French idiom of the Renault 16TS.
The BX 16-Valve sold in low numbers locally and quite a few cars gave their lives for Peter McLeod’s assaults on The Mountain in the early 1990s.
Unlike their larger predecessors, BXs are immune to rust. And the hydro-pneumatic suspension can be repaired by a specialist.
Only for the brave, and only to be considered in this 24-valve 140kW guise. The 1989-1994 cars were underpowered. All were excessively complex.
I owned a lovely 1997 example some years ago. It was utterly reliable and quite the best interstate cruiser I’ve ever driven. Very small numbers were sold in Australia.
The earlier cars were diabolically troublesome (complex electronics but poor wiring) and most are no longer with us.
This was probably the last ever big Citroën in the tradition of the Diesse.
It combined beautiful exterior styling (referencing the CX) with a huge and lavish interior. Finish was exquisite, which could not be said of any of its predecessors, but PSA was not taking risks with this flagship.
Most cars sold here were diesels (2.7 litres early on, then 3.0-litre), at once more economical and accelerative than the petrol version. No car depreciated faster and embarrassing trade-ins were offered.
Very few customers in Australia or anywhere else were prepared to pay $120K-plus for a French luxury car in a world of Mercedes, BMW and Audi. The irony is that by 10 or 12 years of age those big Germans have also experienced cliff-fall depreciation.