I tend to use the term “supercar” in a different way than the common usage, which I feel is limiting. To me, a supercar is a car that has specific traits that perform so much better than the norm, they get elevated into, well, superhood. Most cars we think of as supercars now, like a McLaren P1, for example, are supercars in the categories of speed and acceleration. Remember the Volkswagen XL1? That was a fuel-economy supercar. Mid ’60 Cadillacs may be comfort supercars, A VW Type 3 or 4 could be a packaging supercar, and so on. And I think I found two interconnected ways that my Citroën 2CV is a supercar.
I found these out last night – well, I think I knew of them before, but never experienced them firsthand, and so didn’t fully realize their superhood – when I was getting the car ready so I can work on it tonight, when a local Citroën expert is coming by to help me see if I can finally get this thing started. I feel bad because I haven’t had much time to devote to the car since I got it, but I’m hoping to turn that around. And, of course, get it running.
Anyway, back to the supercar stuff. The two categories of supercar I think the 2CV qualifies for are the coveted Ease of Fender Removal Supercar and the Engine Access Supercar.
Laugh if you must, philistines, but these are a big deal, as far as I’m concerned! If you look at the picture up there, you can see that while the open hood of a 2CV gives decent engine access, it’s only okay. Getting access to the cylinder heads and the valves within on that flat-twin isn’t really easy, as those bulbous fenders block access pretty effectively. I have removed already the triangular-ish filler panels that fit in behind the fenders, and with those gone you do have good access to the transmission and inboard brakes.
But I want more access. And the 2CV expert who is coming by after work today suggested I remove the fenders, so I decided to give that a go. And holy crap, I was delighted.
I’ve removed fenders from a number of cars, including my old Scion xB, a VW Passat, and of course my ’73 VW Beetle, which I had always considered one of the easiest fender removal jobs there was. VW even made ads about this idea:
Just 10 bolts, and it’s off. Pretty easy, right? Well, I soon learned that even that is a colossal chore compared to the 2CV. First of all, the 2CV front fenders are held on with four bolts, not 10, for a 60% reduction in boltage! Holy crap!
And those bolts are shockingly easy to access; in the Beetle, they’re arrayed in an arch on the inner lip of the fender, so you have to get under there, behind the wheel and suspension bits, to access them. Look where they are on the 2CV; here’s bolt one:
It’s right there, outside of the car, by the trailing edge of the fender. Here’s bolt two:
Two is down low, under the hood, just above the bumper bracket. Here’s three:
It’s right above bolt two, just under the headlight mounting bracket. And finally, bolt four:
Four is right by the firewall, nice and easy to access.
That’s it! Those four bolts, and the whole fender lifts off! And, even better is how the fenders are shaped; on the Beetle, the fender is basically C-shaped, and there’s still a lot of body left behind when it’s removed. Same for more modern unibody cars I’ve pulled fenders from, where the fender is really just an outer skin and there’s all that unibody hardware left behind. Not so with the 2CV. The Tin Snail’s fenders are more like whole wheel pockets, and are shaped like this:
See how they have an inner wall? That hole is where fresh air is pulled from the wheel well to feed the heater, if you’re curious. The fenders are kind of like big pita breads that hold the wheel inside, minus the humus (usually).
The result of this setup is that when the fenders are off, there’s pretty much no body left in place in that area, and access to the engine becomes incredibly good. I mean, look:
Look at that! You can get to pretty much everything there: cylinder head, CV joint, brakes, axles, fuel system, exhaust system, everything is right there.
When so much of working on a car is being in uncomfortable positions and shoving your hands into impossibly tight and greasy alleys between scrape-y and sharp-edged parts, this feels like a dream.
The whole front part of the body is just five parts: two fenders, two of those side filler panels, and the hood. That’s it. Take those off and you’ve got a car with an entirely exposed drivetrain.
Of course, the wiring is still a mess, but at least I can get to everything easily. I hope I can get this thing running tonight.
Also, with the hood down and the fenders off, I think it looks pretty tough, in a kind of Maxmaxian way:
At 5:30 the 2CV expert shows up. Wish me luck!
Torch can i come over and play citroen legos w you
Gotta say that I’m impressed. Impressed that Torch fashioned a prop rod out of a garden hoe handle.
Open wheel racing.
Slide the front hood sideways out/off, so it doesn’t fall on your heads while working on the engine. Good luck!
I’ve been saying this for a long time: high performance is a relative term. A Lamborghini (we can skip defining which model) is high performance, nobody argues when you say it. A Toyota Corolla is high performance and runs dizzying rings around a Lamborghini, and you have to clarify things.
What performance we’re talking about is the important bit. Context matters. A Lamborghini is high performance in the general sense of go-fast, turn-sharp, get there first performance. A Corolla leaves it far, far behind just rolling out the showroom door, outperforming any Lambo – or Ferrari, or Maserati, or lots of other things – on miles per dollar, hours driven vs. hours maintained, etc.
The Citroen was designed from the outset to be cheap to use and cheap to keep. However you want to measure that: hours, francs, milliliters of sweat, the 2CV rewards every bit of equity expended on it with relentless utility.
That minimalist approach made them a death trap. I do not recommend driving it on a highway, can be crushed by the draft of an eighteen-wheeler. But my point is: to save parts and bolts, Citroen placed half of the steering rack directly on the firewall. With two flimsy bolts. Sooner or later, the contraception will come loose, get worn out the wrong way, and you will find yourself trying to steer to the right without success. It still will steer to the left, making everything more fun.
Just hope your steering gets loose in a roundabout.
The steering rack is bolted to the frame rails…it’s easy to see.
>Sooner or later, the contraception will come loose…
and then it starts going Pepe Le Pew on all your other cars.
Seeing the minimalist approach to fasteners and then seeing the hood off, I started to picture a Baja-bug-style engine protector, repurposed to protect the 2CV. It would require significant modification (and might be easier to build from scratch) but it’s an interesting concept.
If you get a chance, please ask the 2CV expert if such a thing would make sense. 🙂
The 2CV Sahara circumvented the need for an engine protector by having two engines
If there is one person out there that is really, really pulling for this 2CV to start tonight it is this guy!
It’s like seeing an ex that has moved on, but in a good way.
Wicked pumped for you, bud!
Another is probably the next door neighbor in the cookie cutter PS2 house.
Eat your heart out, Wrangler owners.
From the same manufacturer, the rear fender on the ID/DS models comes off with ONE bolt, so you can change the skirted rear tire.
That wiring photo makes my head hurt.
Plus, you finally found a good use for those cheap plastic patio chairs.
Look at you, slacking away in here while Matt slaves over a hot Showdown 😀
Hope you’re doing well!
Don’t “holy grail” another term.
Eventually there will be a holy grail of holy grail terms. Yo dawg.