It's no secret that French cars are weird. They're quirky, they're different, and they make you do things you don't want to do.
The French have always done things their way. Some would say too often.
But it's not our fault. Many of these quirks are simply a product of the French approach to life — one that's often more complex than it needs to be. And when you're trying to build a car, complications can lead to problems. Let's take a look at some of these issues.
The French are known for many things: wine, cheese and an appreciation of fine art. But when it comes to cars, they're unique in their own way. From Citroen to Peugeot and Renault, French automaker's have had a reputation for creating quirky vehicles that are often more about style than function.
But there's a reason for this: the French have always been more concerned about form over function. They love cars but they don't really like them. They don't want to drive fast or go far from home.
They want their cars to be stylish and beautiful — even if that means sacrificing practicality.
The Citroens of the 1950s were so strange that they were called "Les Grosses Berlines à Grande Puissance" — or "Big Powerful Sedans." The name stuck and eventually became shortened to simply "Grande Berline."
The Citroen DS was followed by another oddball called the SM (for Sport Métallique), which used more than 100 patents to make it into one of the most advanced cars ever built at that time. But even with all those patents, it still had serious issues: The SM was plagued by electrical problems; some owners reported getting only 10 miles per gallon; and it required specialized mechanics because there were no parts available anywhere else in Europe or America — just France.
French cars being weird certainly hurt them economically and their overseas sales. But who cares when they look so awesome?
We live in an era where the vast majority of cars are boring, safe and without personality. The French used to be known for making some weird but cool cars, but now the only thing that makes them stand out is their xenophobia.
But this wasn't always the case. In fact, there was a time when French cars were known for being unique and quirky. Today's French cars are boring, but back then they were just as crazy as any other carmaker.
The 1980s were a transitional period for the French auto industry, which was just starting to lose its quirkiness and individuality. The French car industry was still very much in its heyday in the early 1980s, producing some of the most iconic cars of all tim , but trading style for performance, their cars looked more mainstream. But they still handled incredibly.
The Renault 5 Turbo was a case in point. Sporting a rear-mounted turbocharged 1.4-liter engine that put out 160 horsepower, it was capable of reaching 60 mph in just 7 seconds and had a top speed of 146 mph. And yet it still packed five passengers inside its tiny hatchback body.
The 5 Turbo was also one of the first cars to have a computerized fuel injection system with electronic ignition timing control (EIC). It was not only faster than any other small car at the time, but it was also safer than many larger ones thanks to its front crumple zones and energy absorbing steering column design.
Sadly, only 6,000 were sold between 1984 and 1991 due to its high price tag of $21,000 – about $40k today after inflation – and poor reliability issues caused by bad electronics from Bosch Corp., one of its major suppliers
As time went by, French automakers seemed to lose their way as they tried to compete head-on with German automakers like Audi, BMW and Mercedes-Benz by building bigger and heavier vehicles in the 1990s and early 2000s. This is a period I think of as the "dark ages" of French car culture where the country's automakers largely lost their way. Sure we got some cool ones like the absurd Avantime, frumpy Vel Satis and C6, but except for the Avantime these felt like feeble attempts at putting a French spin on otherwise very standard cars.
But if there's one thing we've learned from the past few decades, it's that people are ready to jump on any bandwagon they can find. In the case of French cars, it's been about bringing back some of the quirky features we saw in the 1990s and making them more mainstream.
Just as I was about to give up on cars from my homeland entirely, Citroën came out with the C4 Cactus, a revolutionary car that not only changed the way I thought about French cars, but also inspired me to buy one.
The Cactus' greatest achievement is that it's like nothing else on the road — and not just because it looks weird. It's all about its concept of "active safety," which includes features like retractable airbags and an electronic suspension system that adjusts itself depending on the terrain. There are many other cool things too: The interior has an LCD display that replaces traditional gauges; there's an electric motor in each wheel; there's no key — instead, you unlock it by waving your hand over a sensor on the door handle; and it has no trunk or glove compartment because they're replaced by rear seats that fold down into storage bins.
The mojo is returning. Each French maker is pumping out new stylistic hallmarks that would be unthinkable 15 years ago.
And it makes me proud of my country.