I’m pretty sure that there’s some French law that requires the presence of at least one Traction Avant at classic car events held on French soil, just as the must be at least one Camaro at Cars and Coffee in the US. Now that we got this mid-‘50s Reine de la Route out of the way, let’s look at some of the other domestics on display.
The same law probably also mandates the presence of at least one Simca Aronde. These Fiat-designed cars were extremely successful back in the ‘50s and into the ‘60s. This is a late model (probably 1963) of the “P60” kind (1959-64), a heavy restyling of the 1951 body.
You can really tell this car is pure ‘50s from the shape of the greenhouse, as well as the car’s general proportions. The tacked-on fins, which were all the rage in 1959, had not aged that well either by the mid-‘60s.
But then the Aronde’s successor (the Simca 1300) was already in pre-production by 1962, so there was no point in slapping yet more lipstick on this little pig. Said swine’s snout was adorned with an absolutely massive hood ornament – a stylized swallow, Simca’s official logo, which symbolized the car’s appétit d’oiseau (literally “a bird’s appetite,” i.e. low fuel consumption).
Gotta love the interior, complete with period-perfect aftermarket radio and parcel shelf. The small fin-like appendage jutting out from the top of the steering column is the turn signal – perhaps the worst placement for such a constantly-used feature in any car I’ve seen.
Next to the Aronde lay a suprising Simca, which hasn’t been featured much in CC – the 1200S coupé. Born as the 1000 Coupé in 1963, the sporty Bertone-styled Simca was based on the rear-engined 1000 saloon, but was deemed a tad effeminate. In June 1967, Simca gave it a big boost in the tail, as the engine grew to 1204cc and 80 hp – doubling the amount of cavalry.
Marcello Gandini, over at Bertone, was also tasked with “manning up” the car with an additional grille (the radiator having moved to the front of the car) and other touches here and there. The result was quite good and the car’s image was transformed.
The body of the 1200S was produced in Italy by Bertone and shipped to France for final assembly. This usually made for very rusty cars in short order (viz. the PininFarina Peugeots), so few have survived. This is the first one I’ve seen in over 20 years, and it looks like it was restored to its former glory. Just don’t get it wet again.
As this will be an unfamiliar car to many of you (myself included), I see no harm in showing you the interior, which just screams of Italy. This could be a Lancia or a Fiat of the same vintage. And given that we’re talking about a Simca, it really is not far off.
The issue with the Simca 1200S was that it was surplus to requirements. In late 1966, Simca started providing Chappe & Gessalin (CG) with the 1000’s engine and underpinnings, which CG fashioned into a rear-engined GRP roadster. It was kind of Simca’s answer to the Renault Alpine. The Bertone 1200S was downplayed a bit to give CG a chance.
To top it off, Simca tied the knot with Matra in 1970. This meant that CG was no longer really viable – even with the optional 1200cc and 1300cc engines (and they did collapse in 1973), and that sports coupés would be the purview of Matra alone, just as soon as they could engineer a new model. The Matra-Simca Bagheera came out in 1973, just as the last batch of 1200S coupés hit the streets.
While we’re on the subject, there were a couple of Matras at this Bordeaux meet. First up, here is the ur-Matra – a 1966 or 67 Djet V. Born in 1962 as the René Bonnet Djet, this was (probably?) the first mid-engined sports car ever made for road use. Matra bought off René Bonnet in late 1964 and continued producing the Djet until 1968.
The Djet usually had a souped-up 1100cc Renault Gordini engine providing 72 hp (gross), though the very last ones graduated to 1300cc (103 hp). This particular one was modified with fatter tyres and flared wings, so I’m guessing it probably packs a bigger engine than it came out of the factory with.
And on the other corner, there was this Talbot-Matra Murena. Launched in 1980 after Chrysler Europe had been bought off by Peugeot, this three-seater was an evolution of the Bagheera for the ‘80s. The basic model had a Simca/Talbot 1.6 litre 92hp engine sitting behind the driver, but a 118hp 2.2 litre option was available.
This car’s rear spoiler and alloy wheels identify it as a 2.2 litre from 1983-84, making it one of the last Matra sports coupés ever made. The divorce between Peugeot-Talbot and Matra became official in early 1984 and Matra got hitched up with Renault to produce the legendary Espace.
On the Renault front, there were few interesting models, unfortunately. I missed a lovely Caravelle cabriolet but did catch this cute early ‘50s 4CV. It was seemingly festooned with as many period accessories as humanly possible, including a funny hood ornament with four horses.
There were a number of Renault 4s and 5s, but otherwise nothing much from the number one French carmaker. Well, except this 1985 Renault 9 TXE, which I photographed out of pity, more than anything. I remember these well (my grandfather had one) and they were some of the tinniest and flimsiest cars I ever had the displeasure of riding in.
Peugeots were not out in force either. There was a 204 saloon there, almost exactly the same as the one I wrote up a while back. I passed on that and went straight for this sublime 203. Hard to put an exact date on these sometimes – it could be from anytime between 1953 and 1957, assuming the lion’s head hood ornament was there originally.
This 203 lost its trafficators, as many did. Peugeot stuck with those antiquated gadgets until 1957 and many 203s and early 403s were retrofitted with front and rear turn signals. This car’s rear turn signals blink in red (in the American way), which is not how they would have come out the factory.
I have a serious soft spot for the 203. Its American-infused styling is, for once, very well balanced for a European size. Just compare this car with the Ford Vedette or the Standard Vanguard, which both look ponderous and too narrow. And the interior is nothing short of gorgeous.
Plus, there’s actual legroom at the back, which is not something seen on all cars designed in the ‘40s. This was the first in a long line of unit-bodied RWD Peugeots – stretching all the way to the 505. For my money, the original remains unsurpassed.
We’ll skip one car that deserves (and will get very soon) its own post and go directly to Citroën. There were many, but not all were remarkable. For once, there was a representative of the RWD variety in this 1932 C4 G saloon – which was also the oldest car at the show. Also called the 10 CV, the C4 G had a 1.8 litre 4-cyl. engine and an all-steel body, but was otherwise pretty conservative.
Well, with the exception of the Chrysler-patented “Floating power,” as signified by this swan on the grille. This change, implemented on most Citroëns from April 1932, consisted in mounting the engine on specially-designed rubber mounts to reduce vibration. The same principle was used on the Traction Avant, which came out two years later.
It seems even at the time that folks noted Citroën’s tendency to emulate American designs. The C4 was called “La Plymouth de Javel” by some pundits (Javel being the location of Citroën’s main Parisian factory). Things would soon change though, and Citroën’s Traction Avant and rescue by Michelin in the last days of 1934 turned the carmaker into one of the most idiosyncratic mass-production firms ever.
This 99% original 2CV is a good example of the quirky Citroën we all know and, presumably, love. This car was made in the last weeks of 1954 and sports (in places) the only available colour at the time, a rather nice grey-blue shade. It’s a “deluxe” AZ model too, which entitles it to a 425cc air-cooled twin producing, along with its characteristic growl, all of 12 hp.
The 2CV AZ also had turn signals and two stop lights – a plethora of lighting compared to the standard model. But it kept the canvas bootlid, which only turned into metal at the very end of the ‘50s.
The dashboard of the early 2CVs were an exercise in ultra-simplicity. There was no dash to speak of, for starters. A small metal plate, containing a battery charge dial and two switches, was all Citroën were willing to provide. Then, very late in the game, someone thought of adding a speed gauge, which was screwed on the bottom left corner of the windshield, completely as an afterthought. And there it stayed for over a decade. The plaid seats and grey door cards are also original to this car.
The thing that really makes this 2CV is undoubtedly its single-wheel Erdé trailer, a much sought-after period accessory seen on many small Renaults and Citroëns of the ‘50s and ‘60s. It’s all about balance…
There were no DSs nor SMs, unfortunately, but there was one very nice 1976 CX 2400 Pallas – the top of the range until the LWB Prestige took over that role in 1978. The addition of plastic / rubber cladding makes these a tad less appealing than the lower-end models in my eyes, but for everyday driving, the presence of a 2.4 litre with EFI and goodies such as electric windows do give one pause for thought.
Someday, I’ll bag me a proper CX and write it up the way it should. And on that day, I’ll have to get access to that spaceship interior and really show you what madness lays within. Until then, here’s a quick glance at this relatively rare blue one.
Early CXs such as this are getting mighty hard to find now. Rust protection wasn’t exactly top of the list of Citroën’s priorities in the ‘70s, busy as they were trying to survive. Later CXs are a bit more common, but also half as quirky. And if a Citroën’s not quirky, it’s not really a Citroën.
Finally, there was one lone representative of the old-fashioned French grand tourers of yore: a 1954 Salmson 2300 S, s’il vous plaît. Having gone into the Salmson story relatively recently, I can only encourage you to check out my prior musings on this exceptional marque. This car is chassis # 121, out of 226 made from 1953 to 1957.
Salmsons were known for their high build quality and their DOHC engines. The 2300 S, as the last Salmson model produced, certainly has the best engine – a 2.3 litre all-alloy 4-cyl. producing 110 hp. Being relatively light, it could reach speeds exceeding 180 kph, which was pretty good for the time.
This car has the “second series” raised roof. The initial 2300 S had a much lower roofline, which looked better esthetically but caused clients a lot of grief and bumps on the head. They were produced by Esclassan, a small coachbuilder whose prices were reasonable, but who couldn’t keep up with Salmson’s orders, minimal as they were. So body production was switched to Henri Chapron in 1954. Prices went up, as did the roof, and sales went down, inexorably. The only remedy was to fork out even more money and get Chapron to turn it into a convertible, which few people did.
Like many big French cars of the era, Salmsons usually came with a 4-speed Cotal electro-magnetic gearbox. The long lever on top of the steering column is the inverser, which orders the gears to go forwards, backwards or stay in neutral. Once in “forward” mode, the four gears were selected via a small switch on a stalk coming out of the left-hand side of the steering column (for cars like this one with RHD, anyway). This did not eliminate the clutch pedal, but it did make driving much easier, with only a smidgen of left pedal recommended (if at all) to switch into gears 2, 3 and 4.
Having a Cotal or a Wilson gearbox must be one of the best insurances against car theft ever. But, like a lot of this car, it’s ‘30s technology. The Salmson 2300 S is a strange mix of pre-war and ‘50s. Endearing and capable, but fundamentally flawed.
That’s all my camera caught on this blessed Sunday in Bordeaux. Well, not entirely: I’m keeping two cars from this report, to be featured as stand-alone posts. So we’ll return here very soon. Cheers!
Related posts:
Automotive History: The Citroën 15-Six – Traction Royalty Genealogy 101, by T87
Curbside Classic: 1956 Simca Aronde (90A) – French Training Wheels, by PN
CC Outtake: 1982 Talbot-Matra Murena 1600 – What Is French For Rarity?, by Roger Carr
Curbside Classic: 1956 Renault 4CV – A Little Car With A Big Impact, by T87
Trackside And Curbside Classic: 1951 Peugeot 203 – I Came To Own The World’s Fastest 203, by Dawid Botha
Curbside Classic: 1969 Citroen 2CV – The Most Original Car Ever, by PN
Cohort Classic: 1981 Citroen CX Pallas D – Modernism’s Last Stand, by Perry Shoar
If the ability to transport 4 people for the lowest possible cost is the design brief for a “people’s car”, the 2CV fulfills that goal far better than a Beetle.
FOUR cylinders?? How bourgeoisie!
That was never the design brief for the VW. Its brief was to transport a middle-class family comfortably on Germany’s new Autobahns at 100kmh (62mph), with a fuel consumption of 7 L/100km (35 mpg) while doing so. It was a scaled-down Tatra streamliner,
The 2CV could only dream about doing that with its original 9hp engine. The 2CV had a brief too, but one quite different: “an umbrella with four wheels”, that would carry four farmers and 50 kg (110lbs) of their goods to market, at 50 kmh (31 mph!), using 3 L/100km (78 mpg). And have a suspension so capable, that no eggs in a basket would break if it was being driven over a freshly-plowed field. And be as cheap as the dirt it had to traverse.
The 2CV was designed for farmers, in rural conditions that were what we would now call third-world nowadays. The VW was designed primarily for urban, highway and freeway conditions, although it acquitted itself very well in difficult terrain.
Day and night difference.
Interesting. Does that say something about the relative standard of living in the two countries prior to the war, or am I reading too much into things here? Did Hitler assume nobody in Germany would need a car ‘below’ the VW, at its intended price?
My interpretation is this: Germany was more industrialized, and had a significant number of large/largish cities. Think Hamburg, Berlin, Stuttgart, Munich, Hanover,etc.. The population centers were spread out. Therefore there was a lot of travel between cities.
As I understand it, outside of Paris there were not many large/largish cities; there still aren’t. France is a much more centralized country. And its rural areas were very spread out, and far from any city centers.
Hitler wanted to create an American-style automobile market, as well as American-style automobile use. Germany was much more conducive to that than France, as it was logical to connect the numerous large cities with autobahns, which of course also had strategic uses in a war.
France’s road and highway system was much more primitive, and lagged way behind. And Parisians didn’t need cars; they used public transport. There’s no place to park. It’s like NYC.
So in France, the idea of a comfortable, relatively fast middle-class car for the masses was completely off the radar there, until well after the war.
Hitler intended to sell the VW cheap enough through massive volume, a la Ford. Wolfsburg was designed to be able to build 1 million cars eventually; that was by far the biggest factory in the world only behind Ford’s Rouge plant.
Hitler assumed that the VW’s price would be doable if the volume was high enough. of course that was never put to the test, as the war Intervened. The price set by him was shockingly low, but then the rest of Germany’s industry was fragmented and none had any significant volume.
The French auto industry was highly fragmented and the factories were relatively small compared to that.
The 2CV was designed with farmers in mind, because rural France was so large and spread out, and having an absolutely minimal vehicle to get to the nearest market town was seen as real need. But nobody imagined driving a 2CV on a long distance trip then.
But after the war the 2CV filled a need for city transport too, and made a good urban car. But France was quite late in developing its highways; I don’t think they had any autoroutes (freeways) until well into the 1950s.
Hitler was ambitious, and had the political power to make the VW happen. It would not have happened without that.
I`ll like to add that plans to connect cities with autobahns were made before Hitler came to power. There was a association called “HaFraBa”, founded in 1925 which planned to buildt a “car only street” to connect Hamburg via Frankfort with Basel in Switzerland. Hitler occupied this ideas and had, as in case of VW, the power to make it happen
Thank you for that, Paul. I hadn’t realised how different France was from Germany in respect of city sizes. Makes a lot of sense in the context you’ve provided.
In response to Paul:
Thanks for setting me straight on the differences between the two cars/countries. I always learn stuff at CC!
The 2CV seems more comparable to the Model T in its mission. Rural France in the 30’s, 40’s and 50’s seems similar to the rural US in the 20’s and earlier as far as infrastructure goes.
The Model T’s brief was to be the most advanced and powerful car in the mid-range field, for a relatively reasonable price (compared to the very expensive cars of the time). It only became a cheap car for the masses after Ford kept increasing volumes and lowering costs. That really only happened in the early 20s. Initially it was not conceived to be an ultra-cheap car for the little farmer or working man. It just turned out that way.
Very nice! I especially like the Simca 1200 Coupe. Curiously I myself came across one last May in Laramie, WY of all places! Sadly it was on the wrong side of a fence and about 200 yards of junk without any kind of close access. Nevertheless I took a very zoomed in pic as I was unsure of what it was and had to enlist PN’s help who figured it out immediately. It’s very nice to see what a great example looks like (such as the one you shot).
That really caught my eye too. It was a car I was totally unaware of.
At first glance, I thought the ’32 Citroen C4 saloon was a ’33 Terraplane with French coachwork. Europeans embraced the close-coupled club sedan style much more so than did Americans.
Wonderful collection of cars. The Salmson is a real treat, although that high roof does ding its looks some.
Love the Djet and Simca Coupe. The Mureno doesn’t work for me, not nearly as successful as its predecessor Bagheera.
Oddly enough, the Peugeot 203 is my least favorite of the whole series of RWD Pugs. I have gobs of respect for its capabilities, but its styling just aped ’42 Chevy (below) or such from ten years earlier way too much, especially the front end.
The 2CV with the trailer was terrific.
Thanks for a great tour.
Some cool stuff. I like that Aronde more and more. And the Peugeot, of course.
The transmission in the Salmson is really cool, and sounds a bit like the Bendix Preselector that was used in prewar Cords – though that one seems to have used hydraulic controls that were electrically actuated rather than the magnetic clutches. I love the divergent ways people figured out how to shift through the gears.
Some great cars here! The Simca 1200S is seriously desireable, inside and out, and the wheels really crisp up the design.
When I was a child in the early 60’s the Simca Aronde was quite popular, it attracted an enthusiast audience of those on a tight budget.
I saw your comment in the last post, thanks for your kind words. I’m so impressed with your Huawei, the picture quality is excelllent and the depth of field so suited to the subject matter.
Arondes were everywhere in Australia in the late fifties into the sixties.
Simca 1200S is absolutely beautiful, thanks Tatra87 for fine photos and posting. According to several sources, Simca 1000 floorpans were shipped to Abarth, who built up the Simca-Abarth 2000 around it. This car achieved some competition success.
A sweet tour. That last photo, amongst many fine ones, is quite something.
I have a real thing for the Djet, although, as the whole look revolves around being perched up daintily on the big skinny wheels, this one has been ruined. It’s such an unusual looker that one shouldn’t find it pretty, but I sure do.
Australians had a blind-spot about French cars, perhaps thinking all French cars were those wacko Citroens, and mate, where are you gonna get THAT fixed? But the 203 Pug made Peugeot’s name in this country. Pug entered them in the wondrous but stupidly difficult round-Australia rally trials of the 1950’s, and they did very well where fancied names did not. The company was still referring to those victories in advertising copy of the ’90’s! And I disagree with PN. I too think the 204 is very pretty, and further, I think the 403 replacement a pretty dull old bar of soap. So there.
As Old Pete said above, the Arondes also sold well here in the ’50’s and ’60’s. They too had done well in the trials. They were made by Chrysler in Adelaide from ’59-on, perhaps the first Chrysler-Simca production of all. Unfortunately, because they’re not a “name”, I would hazard a guess there’s barely one left now.
Lastly, in a land far, far away from home and where mere handfuls were sold, there always seems to be a CX for sale in Oz. They rust even in this climate, so lordy knows how bad they must get in Europe. Like you, I prefer the look of them in very basic trim (though I too would chuck in a 2.4 injection and 5-speed). Really good ones are now $20K AUD, and since it’s not car to buy in bad shape, I can’t afford one. Sigh.
Hmm, Bordeaux. Yes, I think I’ll have a glass. A votre sante.
The armrest and window handle in the Aronde have seen a lot of use!