MY FAVORITE CLASSIC & SPORTS CAR magazine recently had an online item that caught my eye: “10 Eccentric French Classic Cars.”
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“There’s no particular reason to believe that the French are any more unorthodox than anyone else,” writes C&SC. “Until, that is, you get to their cars…. Maybe it’s something to do with a nation that has always valued its engineers, or its pioneering role in both the automotive and aeronautical industries.”
Here are tidbits about three of the French oddities featured in C&SC, together with my usual Internet sleuthing (reflecting, in one instance, first-hand experience).
Les Autos Claveau. C&SC recounts, “Claveau’s water-cooled Autobloc prototype of 1926—rear-engined, monocoque and of the school of Rumpler—gave way to an air-cooled design in ’27.”
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The Claveau CIR9 (1926–1927). This and other images from Classic & Sports Car archive.
C&SC continues, “At this stage the deliciously avant-garde closed CIR9 was shown, powered by the same 1500cc flat-four. Its fuselage-style looks were just too freaky to fit in to a world of sit-up-and-beg Renaults, Peugeots and Citroëns.”
“Emile Claveau,” C&SC observes, “specialised in quirky no-hopers.” Wikipedia more or less agrees: “Émile Claveau was recognized more as an innovator of experimental and sometimes inspirational engine designs rather than as a manufacturer of cars for sale.”
Nonetheless, “Vive l’aérodynamisme française.”
The Peugeot 402 Andreau. “Dominated by its huge dorsal fin,” describes C&SC, “Peugeot’s extraordinary 402-based streamliner plays the functional-purity card for all its worth, ticking every box in the lexicon of aerodynamic correctness.”
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Peugeot 402 Andreau (1936–1938).
“It’s the real deal, too,” says C&SC: “In 1986 the car was wind-tunnel-tested, and clocked a 0.364Cd: better than the 0.37 of a late-model Citroën DS. Top aerodynamicist Jean Andreau was behind the car, the first example of which was shown at the 1936 Paris salon. ”
C&SC continues, “Sober old Peugeot was more concerned with launching its small 202 than taking a risk on a futurist V8 supersaloon, though. It was decided to make a few customer cars after the 1936 show. Of the six chassis numbers allocated, it seems only two vehicles were built.”
More on the 402 Andreau. By the way, Supercars has a fine article on the 402 Andreau, with plenty of photos.
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Images from Supercars.
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The Voisin Biscooter. “The rump of his firm [C&SC’s words, not mine] absorbed into a nationalised aero-industry combine, Gabriel Voisin carried on designing vehicles after WW2. The only one to see production was the Biscooter.”
And a fat lot of good it did him, some are tempted to say. Me? I’m delighted to describe a car considerably more minimalist than my “From Sea to Shining Sea” Austin Mini Moke.
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The Voisin Biscooter/Biscúter (1949–1958).
C&SC describes, “Parent company SNECMA refused to make Voisin’s ‘rollerskate’ and he sold the rights to Spain, where c12,000 Biscúters were made from 1953-’58. The ultra-lightweight aluminium monocoque runaround was powered by a Gnome et Rhône ‘twin’ driving the front wheels.”
A Philip Glass of a Car. Wikipedia corrects a technical overstatement: “The 1 cylinder, 197 cc, two-stroke motor produced 9 horsepower (7 kW), had a crank starter, and drove only the right front wheel.” My italics, not Wikipedia’s.
Adding to this, Wikipedia notes, “The playful name implied that it was about the size of two motorscooters, or a scooter with four wheels.”
“By the time it was introduced in 1953,” Wikipedia continues, “the marque had been hispanicized to Biscúter. The first car had no formal model name and was called simply the Series 100, but it soon became known as the Zapatilla, or little shoe (clog), after a low-heeled peasant slipper popular at the time.”
Gee, a Biscúter makes a Moke seem like a Claveau. ds
© Dennis Simanaitis, SimanaitisSays.com, 2024