For what seemed like eons, Citroën’s range was completely illogical. It consisted of two models: a large 2-litre car (the Traction Avant, then the ID-/DS-19 after 1955) and the tiny flat twin-powered 2CV. The latter gave birth to a couple of higher-spec variants in the shape of the Ami 6 and the Dyane in the ‘60s, but neither could be classed as mid-sized, given their 600cc engine. The gaping hole in the middle remained until 1970, when the GS arrived.
It’s not as if the carmaker had been unaware of this issue all this time. Everybody clamoured on about it in the French auto sector. But there was a lot of hesitation on the part of Citroën management as to how this unsustainable state of affairs could be addressed.
They had attempted to fix it in two ways: first by taking control of Panhard in the mid-‘50s. This did give Citroën dealers something to sell to mid-range customers, but was ultimately deemed unsatisfactory due to Panhard’s 850cc flat-twin engine, which was a bit fragile and too close to the 2CV’s. And, more than anything else, it wasn’t a Citroën. The old Not-Invented-Here reflex was too strong. By 1965, with four-door cars no longer in production, the Panhard band-aid had outlived its usefulness.
In parallel, a number of Citroën prototypes were devised in the ‘50s and ‘60s to fill the gap. This culminated in the “Projet F” model, which was almost launched in 1967. It was beset by terminal maladies: a rotary engine that wasn’t ready for prime time, a novel torsion bar suspension that proved too hard to tame, a weak bodyshell that flexed so much it affected handling and a production process that inadvertently used expensive Renault patents. Wrap all this up in a plainly unattractive body, and Citroën’s top brass pulled the emergency “Stop everything” cord – albeit only after the Budd body tooling had been ordered, paid for and partially set-up.
The F had been an abominably expensive late-term abortion, but at least Citroën had avoided tarnishing their reputation with a terrible car. From early 1967, work began feverishly on a completely new design (logically dubbed “Projet G”) that would try to address every one of the F’s many weaknesses, while salvaging a few positives from the F debacle. And finally, in August 1970, the GS was born.
With any complete clean-sheet design, there are bound to be a number of issues. But where the F was promising to become a living nightmare for its manufacturer, its marketers and its users, the GS was remarkably well-sorted, especially for a Citroën. The suspension was all-independent and used the (by then familiar) hydropneumatic system seen in the DS and the SM, albeit adapted to a smaller car.
Many technical aspects of this suspension were tested in the odd mish-mash Wankel-powered M35 (above; about 250 made in 1969-70), though Citroën claimed those so-called prototypes were only created to test the engine on a large scale. They certainly didn’t spend too much time styling the M35.
The GS came out the same year as the SM and although both cars are quite different one from the other, the visual kinship is unmistakable. It figures, as they were both created by the same in-house design team, led by Robert Opron and featuring several ex-Panhard designers. This may have tamed the old Citroën styling bureau’s tendencies toward weird and excessively angular shapes, as evidenced by the Ami 6 and the Projet F, turning the GS into an interesting mix of rounded, aerodynamic shapes and taut lines.
Many have claimed that the Citroën designers took a lot of inspiration, when devising the GS’s shape, from Pininfarina’s BMC 1800 Aerodinamica, unveiled in November 1967 at the Turin Motor Show. Robert Opron himself was careful never to expressly confirm nor deny this, but as some have noted, the timeline is a little too tight for the GS to have been directly influenced by Fioravanti’s superb creation. According to Opron, the GS was entirely designed, inside and out, in the six months that followed the nixing of the Projet F in April 1967. And there is evidence that Citroën were converging toward a greenhouse shape that was remarkably similar to the PF show car.
Since 1963, Citroën designers had been working on a major refresh of the DS, slated to be in production by late 1967. Once the swivel headlight front end was finalized, attention turned to the rear end. Many solutions were explored throughout 1966, as we can see above. None were retained in the end, due to budget constraints, but the GS’s distinctive roofline, complete with vertical taillights and Kamm tail (top left), were already there. The PF design may have comforted Opron in his decision-making, but it did not initiate it.
Which is not to say that the GS is entirely without fault. I personally never found the front end attractive, with those big glaring eyes. At least it doesn’t look like anything else, I suppose.
Citroën had been one of the pioneers of the hatchback, grafting a top-hinged fifth door on the LWB Traction Avant way back in the ‘50s. In the ‘60s, Autobianchi, Renault and Simca all demonstrated that this was a great solution for smaller saloons, too. Logically, the GS should have had one – the PF Aerodinamica certainly did. But no. CEO Pierre Bercot had a bee in his bonnet about the hatch, which was deemed as a wagon-like feature not befitting a family saloon. Hence the GS and the CX were denied the hatch. But not the SM. Go figure.
The result is that access to the trunk can be compromised by something as anodyne as a truck being parked too close to the GS’s rear end. Somewhat suboptimal. This was only addressed with the GSA, launched in 1979 with a rear hatch. The CX never got that chance.
The only widely available body variant was the GS Break (wagon), which did have a rear hatch. There were two-door Entreprise (sedan delivery) wagons on offer for a few years as well. Citroën’s styling bureau had envisaged a very handsome coupé that never went beyond the 3D miniature stage. I have a GS Break in my files, so we’ll take a better look at one of those sometime in the future.
When it was launched, the GS’s all-aluminium OHC flat-4 (it’s buried under there somewhere, I’m sure) only displaced 1015cc, producing just 55hp DIN. This engine was a slightly larger version of the one used in the Projet F, but it was still rather small for the car. One of the main criticisms levelled at the Citroën from the start was its lack of power, and the marque heard that loud and clear. In late 1972, the flat-4 grew to 1222cc and a full 60hp (@6500rpm) for the higher-end Club version.
Said higher-end 1.2 litre version was available, as illustrated by our feature car, with a novel semi-automatic 3-speed transmission. It was a hydraulic torque converter that eliminated the need for a clutch, but still required passing gears manually. The NSU Ro80 had quite a similar system, as would the equally ill-fated Wankel-powered GS Birotor, launched in 1973. This transmission was regarded as quite satisfactory by Citroën, who also adapted it to the CX. Ultimately though, it was a poor substitute for a true automatic, and it disappeared in the early ‘80s.
The GS’s strongest suit was, as expected, ride comfort. In this particular respect, it was a class leader, coupling the famous self-levelling hydropneumatic system acting on the wheels that virtually erased all road imperfections with superbly soft seats.
Said hydropneumatics were also used for power braking (though not for steering), with discs on all four wheels. Having this as standard in the GS was something very few if any of its competitors could boast, and many did not even offer as an option. This particular car was originally sold in Australia, so it’s a right-hooker. One consequence is that it has the more traditional-looking Jaeger instrument binnacle, also used in the GS Birotor.
Most LHD cars had the set-up pictured above, with a curious revolving drum speedo. The controls apparently all take a little getting used to, but it does make sense. And you’d expect a Citroën interior to be unlike anything else.
As our GS is wrong-hand drive, I elected to locate this comparison table in the British market. Thanks to its larger engine, the Citroën was a decent enough performer within this group – and it sold pretty well in the UK and in Europe in general, in the mid-‘70s. Fastback designs, some of which were definitely inspired by the aforementioned BMC Aerodinamica, were starting to become more mainstream, by the mid-‘70s. None of the ones in this table were hatchbacks though, proving again that good ideas take a little while to become fully accepted.
Sales of the 1-litre version of the GS entered a downward spiral as the 1.2 litre took off. Citroën responded by installing the small flat-4 in the lighter Ami saloon, creating the Ami Super (1973-76), which was not a great success either. The super-deluxe Wankel version did reach the market in late 1973, right when the Oil Shock hit. Fewer than 1000 of those Birotors were made before Citroën cancelled the whole venture. This left the GS range without a more powerful and upmarket variant.
Essentially, the GS was a half-success. Despite its maker coming dangerously close to bankruptcy in 1974 (due at least in part to the Projet F(iasco) and the unsellable Birotor), the car was feted as European COTY in 1971 and sold very well: just under 1.9 million were made from 1970 to 1980, plus over 570k of the facelifted GSAs (1979-86).
However, because the Wankel variant failed and the flat-4 could not be made much bigger, Citroën kept having a gap in their range, only now it was between the 1.2 litre GS and the 2-litre CX. This was only conclusively addressed with the BX in 1983. It’s tricky to be stuck in the middle, especially in an unconventional family.
Related posts:
Cohort Classic: Citroën GS – One For The Anoraks, by Perry Shoar
Vintage R&T Analysis (1972): Citroen GS – “‘Remarkable’ Would Be An Understatement”, by PN
Mountainside Outtakes: Citroen GS And Renault 4CV On Mont Ventoux, by Roger Carr
Sigh. Probably my favorite small car, certainly amongst my all-time, all-over favorites. The perfect rounded geometric car. Perhaps I want a wagon a tiny bit more? In any case, I want an early one, in white. (And to think this very one was once here, and very possibly in this very city!) Roomy, squishy-comfortable, fine-handling, elegant, and (eventually) almost enough go. I have always wanted one.
Isn’t it lovely that Alfa and Citroen came up with such similar cars? I suspect the Alfasud may be the better driver, perhaps mainly for its watercooled rev screamer, but the Cit would ride better, no contest. Btw, I wonder why Cit went with air cooling by this time? Even Mr Honda himself had to concede defeat on that a few years later. It’s the one demerit for me, borne out by complaints about the heating.
I did not know that project F was stopped so very, very late, which seems terribly incompetent. I know there are stories of Renault industrial espionage, and for sure, that pic looks mightily like a 16, but were those tales based in truth?
Excellent post, Prof T. In a weeny nit, the GS never had power steering. Unlike your quality posts, which always have power.
Thanks for catching that, Justy! Fixed it. Speaking of the R16, that should be coming later on this week…
I strongly suspect that given Citroen’s considerable financial constraints at the time that it was cheaper to utilize the existing production technology and tooling from the air cooled twins for this new air cooled four. I realize that the four was different in certain key respects, mainly its ohc head, but the cylinder barrels, which had the same bore (74 mm for both the 602 CC twin and the 1015 CC four) were probably quite similar if not essentially the same. And the layout of the cooling fan and such were also quite similar. It’s always cheaper to “remodel” than to start from scratch.
But using aspects of the 2CV’s twin architecture/tooling did of course limit displacement growth for the GS, likely to its detriment. A 1.5 L version might have been quite welcome.
They shouldn’t have simply doubled the engine from the 2CV, they should have tripled it. Presto, with just over 1500 cc, they would have created the smallest six-cylinder engine in a production car.
The unbridled admiration from Ciroenists all over the world would surely have come for such a genius.
It’s complicated, this flat-twin / flat-4 business, because there were many variants over the years.
Here’s what Citroën produced in the ’70s:
Citroën flat-twins (Iron block & head, OHV)
432cc (68.5 x 59 mm)
602cc (74 x 70 mm)
652cc (77 x 70 mm)
Citroën flat-4s (Alloy block & head, OHC)
1015cc (74 x 59 mm)
1129cc (74 x 65.6 mm)
1222cc (77 x 65.6 mm)
1299cc (79 x 65.6 mm)
One might tentatively add the Panhard twin, which in its final form was 848cc (89.5 x 75 mm). They definitely had a flat-4 derivative, which was used in the AML military vehicle and could have gone either in the 24 CT/BT or in the Projet F, had Citroën given the green light.
The Projet F engines were planned to be a 750cc flat-twin (i.e an even larger Ami 6 engine), the flat-4 in 950cc and 1130cc, a Dieselized and shrunk down DS straight-4 (about 1600cc) and the Wankel — not sure if one or two rotors were planned.
Based on reviews in the car magazines I persuaded my parents to buy a new 1222 GS Club at the end of ’72 – I recall neighbours saying it was and weird and why hadn’t we bought a “normal” car like an Escort or a Cortina – made me feel even better about my choice.
A great car , I liked it so much that years later I bought a GSA. Did you know you can change the [inboard] front brake pads without taking off the wheels?
Another GS predecessor that thankfully was aborted in time: Project C-60
(Image: lautomobileancienne.com)
Huh, looks like a mashup of an Ami, DS, and Panhard 24. I rather like it!
Thank you for an interesting article of a car which has been under the radar for too long.
They were good sellers in the Netherlands. So good, I never cared for them much because too many all over the place.
I had my sights on the CX which was bigger and had more performance. I had a few of these in the last decades and they really are lovely. But still I never got to the GS.
That is, until I heard someone say the GS is the ultimate Citroen sedan. What? Yes because it was designed from the ground up with a fresh view to many components. I do not completely share that view but it surely triggered my interest and now I can see why it is such an interesting and good car.
Problem is they now all have disappeared from our grounds here. And disappeared sooner than other seventies cars because Citroen was renowned for their tendency to rust fast. Luckily the Netherlands is a country of Citroen lovers and many have been imported from France.
I might follow up on this, trying out a car I have never driven before. See how it feels.
Nice article! Although I was not born yet when the GS was being sold, I do recall them and the following GSA as quite common on our roads in the mid 1980s. Very spacious cars (and quite larger than the Alfasud, Beta and Fiat 124), and well appreciated
I imagine the harsh economic situation of the 1970s, the added burden of the acquisition of Maserati, labor troubles and political meddling (see failed agreement with FIAT), as well as the Wankel absorbing precious resources for naught, led to the impossibility of developing a new engine family and created both a gap in engines and the lack of a real “medium” vehicle
As correctly observed in the article, this was rectified by the BX, which carried engines from Peugeot , who in the meantime had acquired Citroen.
Check out the Louis Malle film “Humain, Trop Humain”!
Oo la la! French girls can make even a Panhard appealing!
The GS ia a sweet little car, first encountered one in ’76 when camping in Bavaria Germany, an Aussie couple based in the UK in the campsite next to us had a red ’71 (?) GS. I’d never heard of these, much less seen one.
It was crammed with gear it and was amazing what they had in there. The owner Richard loved the car and praised its comfort and economy. Loved them ever since but finding one here is like the proverbial hen’s teeth, and Citroen for that matter. I’ve had to content myself with collecting the brochures/
Thanks for the deep dive on the GS’ styling. It’s always easy to make assumptions as to the origins of designs, and I’ve come to realize how wrong they so often are.
I’ve always had a major thing for the GS, one of the truly brilliant cars of that era. It checks off a number of my boxes.
As to the semi-automatic transmission, it was of course a compromises but those were not all off-base. All Europeans knew how to drive a stick shift, so using this was not an issue, but it did eliminate the clutch, which in dense city traffic was a very nice boon.
Thank you for an amazing expose of a car about which I knew next to nothing. Every day CC teaches me something new.
In the politically charged Quebec of circa 1970, nationalists started buying French cars. There were several in my neighbourhood. The problem was the same as with British cars: they couldn’t handle the arctic winters Quebec had in that era. Road salt rotted everything in this era an for some reason, European brands rusted the most.
The problem with projet F was that it came in two widths and engines from 602 to a 1600 DS unit transversely mounted. It was never going to work.
That’s without the Mohican roof that Renault patented and led to the espionage case.
There was a 1450 ‘Wasserboxer’ version of the GS, but PSA had no money after the Talbot fiasco and apparently Peugeot’s head honcho ‘hated’ the GS anyway. The updated version gradually evolved into the BX with only the rear axle as a carry over.
Nice read!
Around 1986, I was in the army back then, I owned a GSA, I think a 1980 model. Cheapest model, brownish color inside and out, manual, but what a nice comfortable car that was.
Sad enough most of the pictures I had dissapeared in a rather nasty divorce.
Long overdue that CC had another GS write up and Prof. Tatra87 is the right man for the job. That styling analysis is most interesting – great minds thinking alike I suspect.
Regarding the cost table for 1974 – doesn’t the Alfasud look terrific value (4 wheel discs, 63 bhp, and an Alfa badge) against the Cortina, Viva, Allegro and other forgotten nonentities?
The Alfasud was a reference in driving dynamics for it’s vehicle class at the time, and is by no chance to most sold Alfa to date.
It was a hoot to drive, was very space efficient and reasonably priced. Unfortunately it had serious quality issues in it’s first years, due to bad rusting and generally poor assembly. It was produced in a new factory in South Italy (hence the Sud in the name) which benefited from Government financing, with newly hired and inexperienced workers, and recurring labor issues.
It got a bad name from traditionalists as it was FWD (the first Alfa) and not built in Milano, and combined with the initial quality problems, it is a very divisive car, but there is no doubt that mechanically it was great
GS seats were actually rather firmer than the D that preceded it or the CX that followed. I actually find them more comfortable for that: it’s all relative as is the suspension that does the real work.
There is however absolutely nothing in common between the flat twin and flat four engines other than they are both air cooled. I’ve got both not 20 feet from where I’m sitting – and the flat four can be a right royal pain to work on especially when it’s in an Ami Super …
“I personally never found the front end attractive, with those big glaring eyes”
I’ve never taken issue with the front myself but I do find it a pity this proposed face never materialized:
Shorten the top half of the grille and extend the hood further down instead – and it would look really good.
Love it. It’s like an air-cooled CX.
Probably water cooled…they needed to squeeze in a radiator for the 1450.
So it was partially to align with the CX, but also necessary.
Though I prefer the original Opron version.
I love the GS! I had never seen those DS styling studies before – does make the case for the GS not being influenced by Pininfarina.
I drove a GSA when it was a 25 year old car over some of our rough road “test route” whilst at Porsche and it was every bit as good as I hoped. Superlative ride and body control and anti dive suspension that made the nose seem to rise up under heavy braking. Handling was great and not as roly-poly as one would imagine and it gripped tenaciously despite narrow tires. It sounded nice and went pretty well too. I’m not a fan of the plastic bumpers of the GSA, but the instruments are fascinating. “They” say never to meet your heroes, but I was glad to have met this one! How could one possibly have paid more for a Vauxhall Viva than one of these?
Opron and his team got the design of the GS is just so right – not derivative, clean and wonderfully balanced and surfaced. They are apparently not only slippery, but very stable at high speed which speaks for great aerodynamics. The Break is lovely, too. You can see the Panhard influence too.
A GS would certainly be in my dream garage.
I’m pleased you said that – one sometimes thinks one’s recollections are rose-tinted.
The chassis dynamics were astounding for a soggy froggy.
I am a long term 2CV owner, so I know many other Citroën owners. Even in this group GS are rare. About 10 years ago I was planning to go the annual Citroën Rendezvous in New York State, which is about 600km from Toronto. A friend with an early GS offered me a ride and I jumped at the chance. It was a wonderful introduction to this model. I found it difficult to reconcile the tiny engine size with the refined and smooth ride on the highway. Truly remarkable!