1970 Citroën 2CV

The 2CV is the anti-sports car. Citroën's engineers were told to create a car that could carry four adults and 50 kilos of potatoes across a plowed field without breaking the eggs on the seat. They succeeded beyond imagination. The result was something genuinely innovative: interconnected suspension that floats over bumps, air-cooling for simplicity, and design so honest it became art. The 2CV was France's answer to the Beetle, but even stranger and more lovable. It's automotive proof that charm beats performance.

The 2CV ages like a French farmhouse. The corrugated body panels develop honest dents. The fabric roof fades. The paint oxidizes to pleasant pastels. Over-restoration ruins these cars — they should look like they've transported farmers, students, and dreamers for decades. The charm is in the wear. A pristine 2CV looks wrong.

In America, the 2CV is exotic. Parts come from European suppliers. Mechanics who understand them are rare. But the car itself is remarkably simple — the air-cooled engine has maybe 100 moving parts. Join the Citroën community immediately; you'll need their knowledge. Driving a 2CV requires recalibrating everything you know about cars. It's slow. It leans in corners like a drunk. It's wonderful.