We’ve covered the Citroën CX pretty extensively on this website, as can be seen from the “related posts” section at the end of this piece. We’ve seen the Series 1, the Series 2, the wagon, the Diesel, the GTI, the vintage reviews, the miniatures… Heck, we’ve even featured the CX cabriolet and the pickup, two variants that were never produced in the first place. There was just one version we haven’t seen yet, so just to cover all the bases, here’s the (long) missing piece of CC’s CX jigsaw: the Prestige.
Given the abundance of riches we have on CC about his car, I won’t bother with providing too much background on the Citroën CX. If you want to read a really thoughtful and complete history of the model, I recommend Perry Shoar’s excellent post. What I’m aiming to provide here are both detailed photos of a relatively rare and desirable version of the CX, as well as some personal T87-style musings on these fascinating cars.
I know this car well: it belongs to a good friend of mine. He is a CX fanatic; he bought this one about ten years ago, after having owned a gold-coloured 1979 base-spec model (an absolute delight, but the undercarriage was too far gone) and a time-warp light brown 1976 Diesel that he sold to a Dutch guy. When he found this late 1983 (MY 1984) Prestige, though, he knew it was a keeper. So he kept it.
Just a brief word on the CX’s background, to get our bearings. The “normal” CX appeared in 1974, just as Citroën were going bust. Bankruptcy was averted thanks to Peugeot, who bought a controlling interest from Michelin (owners of Citroën since 1935). The CX was thus the final Citroën of the Michelin era, which brought us such legendary cars as the 15-Six, the 2CV, the DS, the Ami, the GS and the SM. Initially, the CX took over from the ID/DS by using the older car’s engines – a 102hp 2-litre and a 112hp 2.2 litre 4-cyl., themselves directly descended from the Traction Avant’s mill – but opting for a transverse layout. A putative tri-rotor Wankel engine, which the CX was designed for, was tested for several years, but Peugeot (and NSU’s demise) killed the project.
Some were disappointed by the CX’s lack of technological innovation and it’s true that the car did rest on its predecessors’ laurels a bit. The CX borrowed the SM’s Diravi, a self-centering, hydropneumatically-assisted variable-power steering that, once mastered, is something of a revelation. The suspension and brakes were mere evolutions of the DS’s, though better tamed. Whereas the DS also used the hydropneumatic system for its gearbox, the CX went back to a purely manual version. The CX’s 4- and 5-speed transverse manual gearbox was completely new – and apparently extremely well-executed and used on several other cars, but this meant that the only new component of the whole car was a rather modest one. A 3-speed semi-auto (the C-matic, as seen on the GS) was available on demand until a fully automatic ZF gearbox replaced it in 1981.
There was nothing truly revolutionary about the CX, then. It was just a summation of the marque’s innovative efforts, brought together into a new, somewhat tighter and tidier package. Where the CX really stood out was in its styling, its aerodynamics, its lack of major defects, its space utilization and its interior detailing. And this is where the Prestige enters the story.
One year after the CX saloon was launched, the wagon appeared, with its quirky stepped roof and its wheelbase lengthened by 25cm. Around the same time, in the summer of 1975, a LWB saloon was unveiled and later displayed at the Paris Motor Show. The Prestige used the same wheelbase as the wagon, and a few started trickling out in 1976 with the 115hp carbureted 2.4 litre engine of the DS 23.
The long CX was a direct response to certain complaints that the standard model’s rear legroom was a bit too short, especially compared to the DS. Of course, Citroën listened to their most well-heeled potential clients, particularly those in positions of power. French presidents loom large in Citroën’s post-war period, and the CX is no exception. When presented with a Prestige by Citroën sometime in 1976, President Giscard d’Estaing, quite the lanky politician, liked the extra legroom just fine, but wondered if something might be done about the headroom. And so the roof was raised by 2cm from late 1977, and the French President could ride with his Prestige intact, even though he showed a marked preference for the Peugeot 604. The production CX Prestige car kept the Giscard roof, which by default was clad in vinyl (unlike Giscard himself, or so I gather). Early model “flat roof” carbureted Prestiges are extremely rare, having been produced for about a year.
But there is an even less common Prestige: the gliding bank vault. In the turbulent ‘70s, there was some demand for bullet-proof cars, leading Citroën to launch the Prestige Haute Protection. It arrived in 1978, with about 500 extra kilos of armour-plating and special glass, as well as beefed up suspension, brakes and everything else – except the engine, which stayed stock. Speaking of which…
Engine-wise, the finalized MY 1978 Prestige received the best there was in Citroën’s stable: the 2.4 litre (well, 2347cc) with EFI, now producing 128hp and mated to the 5-speed manual. All that extra length, leather and gadgetry in the Prestige does make it a heavier car than the new CX GTI, which also had this engine and transmission, but it’s still a decent performer. For MY 1984, the GTI and the Prestige received the final iteration of the Citroën four-pot (2499cc and 138hp), enabling our feature car to break the 200kph barrier. Later Series 2 cars received a turbocharger, providing them with enough oomph to equal the SM. At least, the Prestige always kept the Citroën engine, whereas the lower spec 2.0 and 2.2 litre CXs switched to the more modern Peugeot-sourced “Douvrin” alloy blocks in 1980.
While we’re poking around where the sun don’t shine, let’s take a look at the trunk. The CX is a fastback, not a hatchback. Citroën’s top brass had decreed it so. It’s a wonder why they did, over a decade after the Renault 16 had made high-end hatches acceptable, but it seems some did not accept that this feature should be added to a flagship model. In Citroën’s curiously conservative view, hatches were good for wagons and city runabouts, not “proper” cars. The GS was similarly configured, but at least it got a hatch when time came for a major facelift. The CX also got a facelift – just a year after our feature car came off the Aulnay assembly line – but the hatch never came. A few coachbuilders did attempt to convert the CX to the delights of lifting its concave derriere, but the operation was apparently very complicated and thus uneconomical.
Here’s what is written on one of those period stickers in the trunk. I love that this is still with the car, that it purports to explain why the inside of the doors might look “pebbled” and that it’s in five languages. Top marks for effort, Citroën, but you really should have included Dutch — that’s where most of these cars are ending up these days.
The external appearance of the Citroën CX is one of its strong points, of course. However, there are those who prefer the interior – and they are not wrong. This starts with the door cards: four nearly identical but quite distinctive pieces of ‘70s design, in this case overlaid with leather. That is a good thing, as the non-leather kind tend to disintegrate and warp with age. The little oval plastic gizmo, just ahead of the handle, is used to open the door and is operated just like the trigger on a pistol. In the Prestige, rear passengers get a cigarette lighter and electric windows, as well as an extra speaker mounted in the door. Let’s go ahead and see what this musical smoking lounge looks like.
There are worse places to be than at the back of a CX Prestige. You can see why this car was made famous, years after production was stopped, by Jacques Chirac. He was quite tall – over 190cm (6’3’’) and therefore preferred riding in these. He ordered one as his official car when he was mayor of Paris – a 1985 gray series 2 Turbo with vinyl roof, if you please. It was still his official car when he was elected president in May 1995. TV cameras on motorbikes chased the CX as it roared through Paris on election night, with Chirac waving and grinning from the back seat. Everyone watching TV that night, including yours truly, talked about Chirac’s CX the next day. A few days later, he was on the Champs-Élysées in the ultimate presidential Citroën – one of the 1972 SM parade cars – but he was forever associated with the CX.
The front seat is quite an interesting place to sit in most cars, but it the CX, it’s something between intimidating and exhilarating. The sheer oddity of the landscape and apparent complexity of the controls does give one pause. Why is this lever sticking out here? What’s that button there? What the heck were they smoking when they designed this? Take the “lunule” concept, for instance. It’s that great big flying saucer sitting on the dash. Once you place your hands on the steering wheel, it all makes sense: the turn signals are where they should be, as are the light switches and wipers. Why must all these things be on stalks? Because we’re used to it. But if you’re Citroën, you think laterally and you put a bunch of buttons on a giant pod. And then you add a Christmas tree of 17 idiot lights and square dials, just to keep off the beaten track. Oh, and the ignition is on the left of the steering column, but that’s almost normal given the context.
It’s true that the dials themselves are a bit of an acquired taste. When you sit in the captain’s chair on this spaceship, you do feel as if one of those things is going to tell you your weight (in kilos, of course), your heart rate or you blood pressure. Still, it’s fitting that even the steering wheel, with that single spoke stuck dead centre (because Diravi) and mundane controls such as the hazard lights all look completely otherworldly. For them to have been otherwise would have been a great source of disappointment. The gear lever, for instance, is nowhere near as recherché on the CX as it was on the DS – or as cool as the SM’s chrome-lathered beauty. They should have mounted it on the ceiling or something. Opportunity missed.
But if we look past said gear lever, just aft of where the electric window switches have elected to sprout, we find more cause for merriment. The HVAC controls are here, sandwiched between the front seats. One lever for temperature on the right, one for fan speed on the left. The middle one has a picture of a man’s head with a hat on one end and a man’s shoe on the other. That’s where you want the air to go, head or heels. Simply hilarious, if a tad sexist. Behind that lays the selector for ride height. Slide the lever to the top, where the little wheel diagram is, and your CX will rise to meet the occasion. Slide it down and the car will sink to new lows. For normal operation, the big white band in the middle is the best option.
There are some ill-informed types out there who will tell you that a CX only has one windshield wiper. This is a blatant falsehood and this photograph is the proof. They have two wipers, but they just happen to be mounted on the same arm. It seems Citroën did try the single-wiper approach and it was impossible to make it work satisfactorily. According to some CX owners, this double-wiper is still pretty easy to overwhelm in truly torrential downpours. But then having two distinct wipers like all the other cars would have been shamefully un-Citroën-like.
What is definitely very Citroën-like is to make a base model out of a higher-end one. The Prestige did not remain as the sole LWB saloon in the CX range for very long: in 1980, the CX Limousine was launched. It was a Prestige sans prestige – no fancy interior, no leather straps on the B-pillar, no trim on the bumpers – and instead of the 2.4 engine, it initially had a 75hp 2.5 Diesel. I’m not sure how many they sold, but it was billed as a family saloon, perhaps suitable for a horde of unhurried giants.
For its part, the Prestige continued floating aloof and aloft at the top of Citroën’s range until 1989, when it was pensioned off like the other CX saloons. The wagons lasted a couple seasons longer, due to the XM wagon’s tardiness. All told, Citroën built over 1.2 million CXs from 1974 to 1991, but only about 22,500 were of the Prestige variety. They were not a common sight even 30 years ago and are now highly sought after, though still affordable compared to older big Citroëns.
The 168hp Series 2 Turbos are able to reach speeds in excess of 220kph (135mph), so if performance is the only metric, those would be the best of the breed. However, the Series 2 cars, with their fat plastic bumpers and redesigned dash, look nowhere near as good as the first series. Is it worth trading all that extra horsepower for a shoe diagram on the HVAC (which disappeared in the Series 2, being replaced by an ergonomically-challenged radio), bathroom scale dials and chrome bumpers? I would like to think so. Nothing made in the ‘80s looks as good as a long, black Series 1 CX Prestige.
Time to put the toy back in its box. My friend had this car resprayed a little while back and was not impressed with the results, so this car’s rear emblems are still stashed away until he can find someone to do it over again. The roof was originally vinyl, too, but he decided to get rid of it – one less source of corrosion, and the car looks better without it anyway. The headliner, which was sagging badly last time I saw the car (“They all do that”), has been removed and a new one will be put in at some point. But mechanically and structurally, this CX is as solid a flying carpet as any I’ve ever come across. The only question is: do you want to be chauffeured, or do you want to take the wheel? Both have their merits. Not many cars worth a fraction of a Rolls-Royce present this kind of dilemma.
Cohort Classic: 1981 Citroen CX Pallas D – Modernism’s Last Stand, by Perry Shoar
Car Show Classic: 1985 Citroen CX 25 GTi Series 2 – Blue Is A Warmer Color Than Grey, by Nigel R. Tate
Vintage Review: Citroen CX 2500 Diesel Pallas, by Yohai71
Car Show Outtake: 1982 Citroën CX 2400 GTi – Fuel Injected Flying Carpet, by Johannes Dutch
Vintage New Car Preview: Citroen CX – The New Big Citroen, by PN
CC Capsule: 1991 Citroën CX Evasion – Last Chance Wagoon, by T87
Car Show Capsule: 1983 Citroën CX Orphée by Deslandes – Hello Strangest, by T87
CC Global Outtake: Citroen CX Pickup with Integrated Cover – CXamino, by PN
Cohort Outtake: Citroen CX Break – Pretty In Pink, by PN
Miniature Curbside Classic: Citroen CX by Playart and Nissan Juke By Tomica – An Eccentric Pair, by Tom Klockau
Oh là là ! Here we are… I also had one of those, the short wheel base one, for the common citizen, but … well…
In 1991, I owned a Citroen Dyane (the ugly sibling of the famous 2CV) and I wanted something less … something more … more like a car, let’s say.
Taking advantage of some days of rest in a completely lost part of France, in the woods literally, I went to the local Citroen garage in search of a second-hand car.
I’m not a motorway man, twisty roads suit me fine and I was looking for a Citroen BX, which had the reputation, at the time, of having the best road manners in its category (medium-sized, by euro standards, hatchbacks).
The garage was a small one; the couple of BXs there only had the small engines. They would have done the job perfectly well, but … no. Next!
At the very end of the parking lot, where they leave cars no sane salesperson will ever offer you, those cars without even a 3-month symbolic warranty, were two GSs (the BX ancestor, just weirder, designed without Peugeot’s restraining hand). I was tempted, but they were also low specs, and I walked back from that cliff.
Because my eyes had spotted, from the very beginning, an even higher one!
A good looking ‘84 CX 2500 GTI! Shiny metallic paint, passable cloth inside, metal bumpers, wider tracks, elegant wheels, it was in my opinion the best of the line, just before plastic was wrapped all around the poor car.
All the green lights were on: within budget, only one previous owner, and always maintained by this very garage.
In 91, it was too late to find a decent affordable Grail (Citroen DS) anyway; this was the next best thing.
The engine was the 2.5 L, with electronic fuel injection, without turbo. But would its presence have stopped me? Not sure…
To be honest, I must confess the salesman tried to steer me towards a VW Passat B2 of the same age, but it had ‘boring’ written all over, so thanks, but no, thanks.
“Past experience is a shaky headlight fixed to the rear bumper, which only lights up the road travelled” it could be paraphrased, because the guy who now had just bought that ‘nice’ CX had also been the proud, then distressed, owner, in 82 – 83, of a ‘nice’ SAAB 99. He should not possibly have forgotten so quickly!
I won’t list here all the problems I had, some of them already repressed I bet. It will be sad or amusing, depending on which side of the troubles and bills you are.
Let’s just say the CX was a great car when it was running as intended, really GREAT, probably the best I ever had.
For the last true Citroen car, the designers had done a great job, down to the typical Citroen peculiarities (like: the indicators switch, at the fingertips, was not self cancelling…).
The car drove well from motorways to forest lanes, from long straits to hairpin curves: it was comfortable, perfectly at ease everywhere.
Power was ready when requested, and with the motricity to deliver it to the road, not something always associated in a FWD.
I have no memories of the engine itself. I imagine 2.5 for a four-cylinder was the maximum limit, and the fuel injection must have made it smoother.
The body had not been correctly vaccinated against the rust bug, the front wheel arches were the first victims.
But I had so many ‘Denials of Service’! Most of them very strange and imaginative: boring it never was.
As the car still has a reputation for mechanical reliability, I will, now, magnanimously, put that down to bad luck. Neither I nor, I’m convinced, the previous owner, had abused the car.
Audis and Mercs from that period had clean engine bays with nice wires, tubes, pipes at right angles, an obsession those right angles….
In my memory, the CX bay was all in supple loops, bent wires with or without out sheath, diagonally and subtly entangled hoses, pulleys and belts without unnecessary protections… with a huge spare wheel sitting on top, leaving space at the back for a gargantuan cubic luggage compartment without threshold.
But without folding back seat either: the creators of the utterly practical 2CV were long gone and their replacements had never been told about Swedish flat-packed furniture.
Sofas, skis, bikes, young trees etc. will have to travel on the roof.
The relationship we developed together was very much that of a 19th century bourgeois and his kept dancer mistress. Every expense was just an indication that some more money was ready to be spent soon. Maupassant could have written a short story, Balzac several volumes.
I prefer to mention a nice journey between two work assignments from Firenze & Bologna to St- Jean-de-Luz on the Atlantic coast, in the Basque Country, in January 92, with sun and snowed roads and a few spare days to play tourist.
It was my 1st car with power windows (only had to replace two switches), and air conditioning (seldom used it, in fear, such a un-Citroen-esque concept, what could they have made of it…)
Also the 1st car I had to remove the left hand side headlight to change the battery.
Meanwhile, I had met a new girl-friend.
As a modern woman, she wanted to split expenses when we were travelling together. But, the day it was her turn to fill up that deep, large, generous tank for the first time, when she hooked back the pump handle and saw the meter, her eyes popped out in a very Tex Avery-an way, she was used to the tiny tank of her Golf I diesel.
This new – real – relationship was serious, I had to be careful!
We are not talking Ranchero / El Camino here, but yet … I had to stop hanging around with a car of dubious reputation, not to mention the lame explanations for missed ‘rendezvous’ (“Car would not start!”) or unexplained and sudden shortages of money.
So, during the 96/97 winter, the CX went quietly.
Without much emotion, after all it was no DS, and that grail quest had had appearances of Monty Python episodes at times.
The CX was replaced by a brand new Renault Twingo.
At least, the problems, for some time to come, were now dealt with under warranty!
if everything went well I attached a couple of pictures
During The Great Winter Truce of 92: a mechanically quiet and zigzagging trail from Tuscany to the Basque Country. Here the Mount Aigoual weather station from where, on a clear day like this one, you can see the Alps, the Mediterranean Sea, the Pyrenees.
Not my car (and not a GTI either, the little foolhardy fog lights are missing – or were knocked off…), but I could not avoid making a snapshot 10 years ago of a car of the same age, aspect, in a not unfamiliar situation.
I just wish it was not its final journey.
What a fabulous story! This could be a CC post in its own right.
Seconded! COAL, COAL COAL, Monsieur Grenouille!
the fist picture tried to escape…
Had 3 of these: a 1982 2.0 RE, a 1985 2.2 TRS and a 1988 2.5 GTi. Wonderful “grande routères” -specially the GTi- that provided a truly unique driving experience but the overall build quality was atrocious. Cheap, hard, self-destructing interior plastics, warping door panels, creaking door hinges, sagging headliners, crappy electronics, lots of body flex and RUST… We used to say about the Series 1 that they already rusted in the dealer brochure. Starting with model year 1982 Citroën considerably improved their rust proofing and until 1987 they had it sort of under control. However, from 1987 until the end of production it was all downhill again. These were pretty expensive cars but quality wise they never even came close to the (German) competition. The timeless design and cloud nine-like ride quality, however, were truly unique and arguably the main selling point of these cars.
… “lots of body flex” …
I was wondering…
When I was in the car, in the passenger seat, with knee and shoulder resting on the door panel, yes it was possible to feel that ‘something’ was moving during the sharp curves, the relative positions of the human and car parts was slightly changing.
But was not that ‘flex’ part of the design? Would not a battletank-like rigidity be a bad thing?
I also (think I remember having) read that there some king of … of whatever … was in between chassis and body to smooth handling and riding.
But perhaps I made that up just to reassure me.
After all, when in a plane you glance at the window, you see a lot of wing flex, and you try not to get worried.
I think you mean silent blocs.The CX was a semi-unibody construction with what they called a “faux chassis”, consisting of two longitudinal members connecting the front and rear sub frames and suspension (we just used to call them “skis”) . Between the “skis” and the body Citroën installed rubber dampers (silent blocs) to further improve comfort and reduce road noise. As far as I know, this does not affect the car’s overall stiffness (or lack thereof). I guess the CX was just flexy by accident, because of its design.
When using a two post car lift you always had to make sure to close the doors before lifting the car. Once the car was up, you could not close them anymore!
I miss real Citroëns…
Thank you T87. I can agree every word.
Here’s mine albeit GTi rather than Prestige. As original and everything still in perfect working order at 40 years and 9 months
dunno where the original pic went…
3rd time lucky..
In view of the pieces already written here about the CX, it was remarkable that T87 found so much more to write. Since I have only ever ridden in the back of a CX, the tour around the front was an education.
Unfortunately, when I think of CXs I tend to think of the last ones I saw, maybe 30+ years ago, with rust perforating the paintwork.
I still love this design and would love one with modern power levels – like say tickling 300 hp/300 lb ft.
Nice car and CXs are quite rare here, someone belonging to a FB classic car page in NZ has resurrected a rotary engine Citroen it should be back on the road soon, looking at this CX I can see my C5 is only an evolution of that car a little less weird in most respects the height adjustable suspension is still there but two buttons do the manual adjustment and a computer and electric pump do the day to day stuff lifting and lowering the car depending on driving conditions, pressing unlock on the remote you watch the car rise to ride height as you walk up to it no more waiting for the engine driven pump to lift the car and release the brakes apparently Citroen could not make their system work effectively with EBS/ABS so abandonned it for regular hydraulic brakes, Very clever cars and they have been for a very long time.
Ah, just as a glorious CX should be, either a leathered-up LWB 1st series in a serious and gloomy colour, or a ’74 model in bolt-on hubcaps and no more than a driver’s mirror for options, in orange, or some other lairy ’70’s colour. In my fantasy garage, the latter with the heart of the former, FYI (or for my information, as it’s in my head, and anyway, I like to be naked in here, but I’m digressing. And undressing).
I do wish de Estaing had had a smaller bonce, as the original low-rise version is a lot sweeter, but I suppose we can be thankful it was not de Gaulle making demands as it’d have needed a Pope-mobile extension just to fit the ego.
I say, do I detect a second control for sending hot air to the rear – of the car, natch – in that ergonomically-surreptitious centre console, surely, not a necessity with lengthy politicians already in that space, (and now I’m digressing as much as they dissemble for a living)?
” , or a ’74 model in bolt-on hubcaps and no more than a driver’s mirror for options, in orange, or some other lairy ’70’s colour. ”
You’d have loved my mate’s first one. A MY 79 Super 2-litre. The one thing those have that the earlier ones don’t is the spherical ashtray (which CX aficionados call “la Grenouille”) on the centre stack. Otherwise, externally, it looked exactly like this:
One can never write enough love poems to a CX, especially a superb Prestige like this one. This really is peak CX. And thanks for pointing out the many features and controls that I didn’t fully now about.
It’s pretty amazing how that ancient four managed to not impede the general feel and performance of this grand car, at least not significantly.
The lack of a truly great engine was always the Achilles heel of the hydro Citroëns. Gutless flat-4 on the GS, iffy V6 on the SM, ancient 2-litre on the DS & CX… Not to mention the rotaries.
Build quality is another potential worry, but that depends on the model. Mid-production CXs like this Prestige are usually better preserved than the ones from the 70s and the very late models.
One thing that drives CX owners crazy are the TRX tyres, which this Prestige has, along with many GTIs. They cost something like 350-400 euros each, so a full set can cost more than the car is worth. And if your CX has the TRX alloys, you can’t pass the French MOT without the proper tyres. Dura lex, sed lex.
Seems to be a Euro wide problem. Buy tyres in Spain they have to look at the technical spec card that every vehicle has so it will pass the next it’s, national inspection.
I love that interior!
Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful! The CX is my all time favorite Citroën.
I’m pleased to report that I just parked my 1987 Prestige in an Oklahoma City strip mall parking lot as I do my errands. It’s not quite a daily driver, but pretty close. And in this town, it truly is an alien space ship.
Is it a Euro model imported under the 25year rule or an 80s USSpec grey import?.
Neither, it’s actually a CXA (so technically not a Citroen in the eyes of the US government). But a previous owner “Frenchified” it by swapping in Citroen badges, a metric instrument panel, and yellow bulbs. To me, it feels like the best of both worlds, since it looks like a French-market car, but it has the safety improvements of the CXA cars (side impact beams for the doors, and I believe the fuel tank also got extra protection).
It was also nice to have a US VIN for registration and insurance purposes. I also have a Japan-market Citroen XM that came in under the 25-year rule (imported by a previous owner who did the real work), and it was a little harder to get the DMV and insurance to deal with that car. Not bad, just a little extra work.
I love reading about older Citroens. It’s like an alternate universe, where the pleasures from this strange mechanical object are deep and real and the pains are considered the necessary and acceptable dues to be paid. Not quite like ‘normal’ life. 🙂
We can never get enough Citroen articles!
When I was a child, one of our neighbours had an early sixties ID, replaced with a GS when they came out, and later a CX. Sometimes they had a visitor in a 2CV, a real rarity in sixties Australia. I’ve always loved them because they were so different – but never loved them enough to spend my hard-earned on one.
Excuse me while I visit the archives and read all those CC articles on Citroens. Back in a few hours…..
Today’s interesting fact… DS were assembled in Auz with local content parts and trim. Not alot of people know that , says Micheal Kane.
I’m wondering who Nick is.
But this was a great tour of a very interesting car, thank you very much! I have not had the pleasure of riding in or driving one or one close to it and am resigned to the fact that it will likely remain that way, but at least I have an inkling of what I am missing (which doesn’t make it better).
I’ve never had a ride in one, but was in the trunk once.
I worked in a hardware store in the mid 90s and a CX showed up in the parking lot one day. Customer was trying to figure out brackets & fasteners to mount a CD changer in the back and I got to help sort it out.
Please Mr T-87, comfort us:
Is this wonderful car allowed outside its bunker?
Come on, please, on a sunny day, far from the sea, without screeching those costly rubbers ???
Also, we like to alternate when we elect Presidents de la République, I mean we send tall and then short people to this office (but always men…), this must surely have some influence on the presidencial fleet?
It is very much allowed outside its secret lair, when the planets align a certain way and the weather is conducive to giving the LHM its correct viscosity…
Yes, we had a nice succession of tall and short presidents for a while, but the last three were all short. The Russians have a similar thing with hairy / bald heads of government, but their list goes back over 100 years…
Oh Mr Froggy, but surely, for the sake of all humanity, we would prefer to keep our presidencial/prime ministre/el capo men IN the bunker lest they speak before the next election, even the short-wheelbase models?
Release that CX not, oh dear T87 & friend, for they might mistake their times and thus enter the Prestige after leaving the Ministry, and leak noises, mouth noises, which no amount of rear fan phoofing might squash.
That is one beautiful car!
Is it just the photo angle, or is the steering wheel off center from the driver’s seat?
I suppose they didn’t have much to work with, but to me it looks like the designers phoned in the rear fascia and bumpers.