Austerity is a word rarely associated with great fun, but in focusing only on what is strictly necessary, this astoundingly spartan early ʻripple bonnetʼ Citroën 2CV is one of the most enjoyable cars in todayʼs group – despite sporting just two cylinders and 12bhp. Itʼs also the oldest design here, too.
While the 2CVmade its official debut in 1948 as a new post-war design, its development had begun before the war with the Très Petite Voiture (TPV, or ʻvery little carʼ) prototypes, the first of which was built in 1937. After a hiatus during hostilities, the 2CV switched from water- to air-cooling, and from an aluminium body to steel, but that pre-war head start was how Citroën managed to put an entirely new car on display at the Paris Salon in 1948 – and not one major component was shared with an existing model.
Reception to the new car was mostly derogatory from the press, but Citroënʼs order books swelled straight away. The appetite for cheap transport in France was voracious – the vast majority of its pre-war fleet of cars had been destroyed, with many having defaulted back to horses and carts.
We all know Pierre Boulangerʼs basic brief: for a car to mobilise the French peasantry, and one with the suspension required to traverse Franceʼs then dreadful, in parts war-torn, road network. Economy of purchase and ownership were the foremost concerns in nearly every aspect of the 2CV. But thereʼs delight in that purity, be it the tiny door latches – a simple sliding bar that holds the door to the inner lip of the aperture and allows a slight gap of daylight around the panel – or the deckchair-style seats, with thin cushions on top of visible elastic webbing. The engine, too, air-cooled and at first just 375cc, can be partially rebuilt in situ in just a few hours and, at the sort of low speeds intended for it, is parsimonious with fuel.
Yet there is real sophistication to the 2CV, too. Most famously in the soft, long-travel suspension, interconnected front to back, which gives the little car limousine-like ride comfort. It is made of baking-tray-thin steel, roughly put together, so it does rattle over poor surfaces, and the engine is never quiet, either, but the compliant ride makes even long drives in the Deux Chevaux relaxing where other economy cars would be tiring. Unlike its later siblings, however, the ʻtin snailʼ does all of this without verging into overcomplexity.
While most 2CVs could do with a bit of extra lubrication (they
