If he Sierra started off as the odd newcomer before becoming a symbol of conformity, then the Citroën CX was always the alternative choice because Citroën was different from almost any other car maker at this time. Its products went beyond mere transport – they were experiences.
That’s certainly the case with the CX. This might be an estate but it’s as smoothly futuristic as any supercar from the 1970s. Its designer, Robert Opron, has form; aside from the GS and SM for Citroën, he also penned such otherworldly designs as the Alfa SZ and Alpine A310. There are fantastic little details across the whole car, from the sculpted curve around the headlights to the circular door handles. So many, in fact, that you might not notice that it’s 10cm longer than a ‘normal’ CX.
The independent thinking continues inside. The dashboard is a beautifully sculpted thing of wonder, enclosing unfamiliar-looking dials and binnacles. The oh-so-comfortable seats look like they’ve been sprung from a chic Parisian coffee house and the stereo’s ‘secret’ location between the seats beguiles as much as it bemuses. There are no indicator stalks: instead, there’s a big plastic button on top of the dash, while the rev counter and accelerator are art deco-style affairs that look more like old-school radio tuners.
It’s all just a delight. So is the surprising amount of thrust from the turbocharged four-cylinder engine. It’s the delivery that makes the CX so special – no lurching on its haunches (thanks to the hydropneumatic suspension), just a half second of lag before you’re speared forward with minimum fuss. Imagine aTGV with tyres. It loses speed even quicker; advertising claimed that the CX could go from 60-0mph in three seconds. Familiarity is needed to get the best out of the DIRAVI self-centringsteering. The wheel itself is beautiful, one single length reaching into the dashboard, leaving plenty of room to see the dials.
DIRAVI was the first variable power-assisted steering system that you could buy. Connected hydraulically to the braking and suspension system, it was powered by apump connected to the engine. It’s an odd sensation to have the steering wheel move entirely of its own accord, but you get used to it after some mild adjustment (and some swerving).
That’s the message with the CX. It all starts to click and make sense, and then you wonder why Citroën’s ideas weren’t more successful. It always struggled against the opposition; it was released just in time for Peugeot – which was loath to invest too much money – to take Citroën over. The executive market in which the CX played wanted six cylinders or more for its up-spec models, rather than boosted four-pots. Add in expensive running costs – though not necess
