My 1,200 Kilometre Adventure in a Citroën CX GTi

Melbourne to Sydney in the most notoriously unreliable car ever built

Why a Citroën CX? Fair question, given their less than stellar reputation for reliability. For some God-only-knows reason, certainly cars simply attract certain people, and God certainly knows that my mates are Citroën-pilled.

One such afflicted is a photographer, adman, car guy and close mate who I shared many a conversation with about the quirky, left brain appeal of these cars. The way this car is built is philosophically opposed to what most ask for in a car, but to us they carry a mythology and chic attitude nothing else can touch. We had been chatting about finding a neo-classic to replace his modern daily driver. 

Enter, on Carsales, a manual transmission 1985 Citroën CX 2500 GTi Series 1.

Reading that, I guarantee you had one of two reactions:

“Wow, that’s a rare bird”

Or

“Huh?”

There’s no shame to be in the 2nd camp, we’re deep down the rabbit hole, so I’ve give you some background.

The CX was Citroën’s big saloon built to replace the DS and the zenith of Citroën batshit engineering and design decisions. It has a hydropneumatic system under the bonnet that uses compressed gas to power the cars inboard disc brakes, steering and suspension, giving the CX it’s revered ride quality, still more comfortable than any car built before or since, period.

The GTi version was Citroën creating their own internal conflict, taking this grand tourer and attempting to turn it into a sports car, throwing in a manual transmission and boring the 4-cylinder out to 2.5-litres. They took their Michelin starred, 5 course degustation and drenched it in Tabasco.

The Series 1 is full-strength Citroën madness: rotating drum speedo and tachymeter gauges, rally lights, steel bumpers. Later cars would do away with this lunacy, but all CX’s retained space-aged 1980’s engine sensors monitoring nearly every aspect of the powertrain. Sensors today, 40 years later, have universally degraded and are responsible for the CX’s general reputation as a delicate, unreliable, schizophrenic mess.

Time to test that reputation.

The backlit rotating drum digital speedo and tachymeter dashboard, lit up at night.

Just seven Series 1 GTi’s were ever sold in Australia. When my mate and I saw the listing we knew it was a now-or-never opportunity to acquire a GTi, so representing him, I reached out to the seller. Cue a pre-purchase inspection done locally, a few days negotiating the price, and that Saturday morning I found myself sitting on a one-way flight to Avalon Airport, Victoria, alongside my Chicbox partner in crime, Ewen. Two men on weekend mission, to collect the CX GTi and drive it 1,200 km’s back to Sydney to deliver it to the buyer.

Landing in Geelong and grabbing a quick taxi to the owners house, parked front and centre outside was this CX. In the driveway, a matching-spec automatic CX Pallas and a Renault Clio Gordini RS 200. Little chance we had the wrong address.

After a test drive and exchange of funds the easy part was done, now the adventure began. The first question was an easy one. You’ve got a Citroën CX, need to pass through Melbourne to get on the highway north and it’s nearly lunchtime. Where do you go? Dutton Garage, Melbourne’s classic car dealer, with attached cafe.

We called a Melbourne mate, coincidentally also French car afflicted. “Dan, we’re in town picking up a car. Lunch at Dutton’s?” 

As we’d soon find out happens constantly when you drive a CX, there’s always a rockstar parking spot right outside where you’re heading. We linked up with Dan and strolled around admiring the gorgeous cars on display. Staying on brand, I did spend too much time admiring the Citroën DS Decapotable.

Over lunch Dan tells us “There’s a public car park just around the corner that I always park in. The lower levels have long term parking and there’s some interesting cars down there. Want to check it out?” Even with a very long drive ahead and a tight schedule we didn’t need much convincing.

We strolled through the carpark following Dan’s lead and learnt that when he said there were “interesting cars” he wasn’t over exaggerating. Lots were under thick black covers so we drew on all our pointless car knowledge to ID each model based on silhouette. Whilst eyeballing a manual Aston V12 Vantage a man milling around a few covered cars nearby yells out “Hey boys, you like interesting cars!?” before whipping the cover off the one next to him, a right-hand-drive Volkswagen Golf Mk2 G60 Rallye.

And I thought the CX would be the rarest car I’d see that day. This Golf G60 was built by Volkswagen’s Motorsport division, with just 71 leaving the factory. In right hand drive? Who knows.

The owner turned out to be the nicest bloke and very happy to share the cars. After thoroughly admiring the G60 he goes “This pair over here are mine too”, walking over to what were clearly two covered Mercedes saloons. Off the covers came, revealing a blue W124 300CE on Zender Monaco wheels (Google them) then a black over black W140 S600L.

You’ll never see a better W140 interior.

This is rare metal, but they’re still mass-produced Mercs. The reason the three of us were floored is the condition, they were better than when they left the factory. Every piece of plastic trim was jet-black, no sun damage, every rubber factory fresh, the interiors lavished with leather restorer, and these were far from low milers, the owner doesn’t hide them away and drives them frequently.

We lost track of time, spending an hour listening to his stories and admiring these time-traveller condition cars. Eventually we tore ourselves away, thanking our new mate and farewelled Dan before driving north towards Canberra as the sun set, turning the CX’s silver bodywork gold.

Now, want to guess if we’d booked a hotel ahead of time? You’re right! Initial plans were to stay in Canberra, though with the late departure from Melbourne we’d now be arriving past midnight. Too many night miles in an old car for my liking.

We looked ahead at the map and found Tumut, a small country town about 200 km’s north of Jyndabyne and a motor lodge with a check-in closing at 11pm. ETA 11:05pm, so we had some work to do.

This was our first chance to get to really get to know the CX. Neither Ewen nor I had driven one prior, and sinking into a few hundred km’s we were very impressed by this space-aged car, inside and out. The ride lives up to its reputation, almost like driving on a waterbed, bumps softly reverberating through the suspension rather than crashing through the car. Mixed with the incredibly thick and plush seats and featherweight steering, we relaxed into the drive with little fuss. 

Having hit roos in the past I can get a little antsy driving on country Australian roads at night, especially in an old car. Once we’d turned off the highway on the way to Tumut I wasn’t having the greatest time in the passenger seat, especially after rounding a corner minutes out of Tumut on a two lane road to find a massive wombat sniffing around in the road. 50-50 odds what lane it was in, thankfully the oncoming so we passed by with no collision, but that’s not a coin flip I’d like to do again.

Arriving in cold and icy Tumut we headed straight for the motel, last given a new lick of paint circa 1989. For me there’s something oddly soothing about these old liver-brick motels with timber-veneer furniture and bedspread designs from the late 90’s. I’m at the tail-end of the Aussie holidaying generation where staying in these motels was common, and have distinct memories of bunking down in rooms like this on family road trips as a young kid. So far the CX had dispelled it’s reputation and had performed flawlessly so far, little under half way there but a big days driving ahead.

Sunday morning, 5:30am wake up call to a very chilly, foggy morning, recharged and ready to be in Sydney by sundown, many adventures on the way. Driving out of town onto the road towards Gundagai, we’d passed through our sleepy overnight town in the silver CX completely undetected, not seeing a single person. I also didn’t know the next hours drive would be the most memorable drive of my life.

The sun rose behind us as we weaved our way along this lovely road alongside low fields filled with horses, blanketed a lake of thick fog licking the edges of the road as we weaved through the Great Dividing Range. The road full of long sweeping bends, nothing overly technical, just perfectly drawn out corners blending into each other, the perfect roads to savour the amazing DIRAVI steering rack of this space-aged grand tourer. As we rounded a corner on a gentle downhill, a flock galahs took low flight ahead of us, following the road ahead and weaving around the hills as we slowly caught up to them, looking up as we glided beneath. The morning sun cast the shadow of the CX on the long grass of the hills alongside us.

The CX’s shadow projected over the hillside. Courtesy: Ewen Marjoribanks

On that road I met God. He has a manual gearbox and hydropneumatic suspension, and he’s very French. Donny Hathaway was playing on the speakers. It was Fathers Day, I called my dad and told him what I was up to. “That’s dad-lore. What a story to tell your kids one day” he said. The sunrise drive from Tumut to Gundagai in a Citroën CX GTi will live with me forever.

Passing Gundagai and back on the motorway, we ate up more miles to Canberra and stopped at Highroad cafe for a well earned breakfast. It’s one of my favourite spots in Canberra, but the views never been as good to look up from breakfast, out the windows and see a CX parked.

I’ve always loved Canberra. It was largely built in the 50’s and 60’s so is the epicentre of the countries best Modernist architecture. When Citroën built the CX, they were trying to bring clever design and engineering to everyone, regardless of your bank balance. Identical to modernist architecture they share a kinship; it’s no surprise Harry Seidler was a huge Citroën fan. I reckoned it was time that these two worlds collide.

Just around the corner on the campus of the Australian National University were two of the countries best public modernist buildings, the Shine Dome and Llewellyn Hall, and given it was a cold Sunday morning I was betting we’d have them to ourselves. And sure as that, we pulled straight up to the Shine Dome and parked the CX dead centre on the driveway, not a soul to speak of.

The Shine Dome, designed by Sir Roy Grounds in 1959, put a strong, decisive foot forward that Australia could be a world leader in design and technology. This atomic-looking structure, which houses a lecture hall has as been a multi-generational symbol of hope and inspiration for the entire country.

Llewelyn Hall sat just around the corner, a similarly brave design with it’s floating switchback staircase, off-form concrete facade and raised walkways wrapping around the building. 

The CX took similarly huge leaps forward for cars, and looked amazing parked alongside these design gems.

We got back on the road, devouring yet more miles, but Ewen and I had concocted a plan over breakfast. We could sit on the dual carriageway directly from Canberra to Sydney and be home in around four hours, or we could steer the ship directly east, arriving at the coast at Batemans Bay, then correcting course north to Sydney following the coastal road. Eliciting smiles from both of us, we’d also get to descend the Kings Highway, one of the best twisty drivers roads in the state. Easy decision.

Ewen jumped behind the wheel and took off like a stabbed rat, putting the CX through it’s paces. Excluding the odd chirp from the aged tires, we were amazed at such a a capable chassis it had. Throwing gears and engine braking downhill, it had acres of torque on the straights and controllable but characteristic French body roll. All of a sudden it clicked why CX’s were such excellent desert rally weapons, conquering the Paris-Dakar in period. It’s a Jekyll and Hyde car, one moment a sophisticate, the next a delinquent. 

Enjoying the twists and turns down the Kings Highway and catching the occasional glimpse of the Pacific through the valley ahead, we shot past Batemans Bay and began the trek north and within the hour had landed in Ulladulla and Mollymook for lunch. I’ve spent a bit of time exploring the town, so wanted to stop for another photo opportunity at a spot I’d explored before.

Many Australian beaches and harbour fronts are littered with a scattering of these huge, cast-concrete triangles, like a giants knucklebones, stacked up on the harbours edge to block heavy swells. This imposing, aggressively shaped concrete structure at the Ulladulla breakwall made a killer backdrop for the CX looking like a scene out of Blade Runner.

There’s a tension to the CX’s shape, this push-me-pull-me feeling as curved lines are sharply cut square all around the car. It’s strange shape is the result of it’s designer, Robert Opron’s fastidious goal to design the most aerodynamic car ever (which it achieved), so it’s a form follows function shape. Francis Bacon said it best: “There is no excellent beauty that hath not some strangeness in the proportion”, and maybe that’s why we could have spent hours standing around, drinking in the shape as the light began to dip.

But we were on a mission to Sydney so couldn’t sit around all day waxing lyrical about the quirky way the French design cars. The road from Mollymook to Wollongong, despite being a motorway, is one those joyous roads full of long, sweeping corners, interesting elevation over the hills and some amazing views of the coast, especially between Berry and Kiama, twisting through the mountain passes with gorgeous views of Kiama and the coast beneath us.

After such a long journey, the climb out of Wollongong on the motorway up past Hellensburgh into Sydney passed in what felt like seconds, little to write home about except being overtaken by a Citroën C5 fully-laden with three generations of family members, all of which gave the CX the full head turn, gawking as they slowed alongside us before storming ahead well over the speed limit; a joy to see a very French car being driven in the traditional French driving style of flat out.

We cruised under the ‘Welcome to Sydney’ sign on the Princess Highway, Ewen and I sharing a congratulatory handshake at the job well done, then continued on to Paddington to meet the CX’s new owner.

Ewen had sent a sneaky text to a few close mates who were waiting for us at the finish line. Big smiles and congratulatory hugs all round, Ewen and I hadn’t dared jinx ourselves by putting it into the world, but as we switched off the ignition at the end of our journey I turned to him and said “I can’t believe we made it”. Given the CX’s historical reputation of unreliability, I was pleasantly surprised for a smooth journey, nothing broken, overheated or scratched.

We handed the keys to the extremely excited new owner, safe to say he was ecstatic with his new wheels, going for a spin around the block and returning with a grin ear to ear.

Road trips let you really get to know a car and after two days of living out of the CX my takeaway was real surprise at how refined and capable it was for an 80’s car. I’ve spent two days co-driving a 70’s Alfa Romeo Berlina on those same roads and arrived home with a migraine and blood dribbling out of my ears, in comparison the CX was closer to travelling in a jet than a car, arriving full of energy and headache free.

This 1985 Citroën CX 2500 GTi Series 1 has had four owners, now onto it’s fifth spending it’s days comfortably cruising around Sydney’s east, a simple task compared to the trial by fire 1,200km, balls to the wall, optimistic idiocy of a road trip. Like putting more trust in an old aeroplane than a new one because it’s proven itself, sometimes reputations need testing. Ignore the naysayers prattling on about ‘reliability’ and ‘not getting stranded on freezing country roads at night’. Sometimes, you’ve got to test it for yourself.

Well, you made it this far, so chances are you’ve got a thing for cars. Want to add one to the fleet, or maybe dip your toe in with your first classic?

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