In post-war France, convertibles (or, to give it its more apt denomination, cabriolets) were a relative rarity. Peugeot always had them in their range, but they were rather exclusive. Citroën plain didn’t bother for a long time, i.e. between 1940 and 1962, then produced the beautiful and outrageously expensive DS Cabriolet. For their part, Simca, Panhard and Alpine gave up on drop-tops by the early ‘60s. However, the unlikely success of the Renault Floride and Caravelle showed that the demand was there, if the price was right.
The Caravelle’s success was unlikely because it came from a carmaker whose reputation was far more tied to trucks and small no-nonsense family cars like the 4CV, as opposed to Italian-styled leisure cruisers. But the came the VW Karmann-Ghia, giving the State-owned French firm food for thought. If VW could do it, surely they could (yet again) be imitated, and lucrative US sales could perhaps ensue. The upcoming Dauphine was the perfect platform to add a touch of much-needed fun and glamour to the range.
The main issue was to figure out a design, as Renault’s in-house team were not quite up to the task as yet. Unlike Peugeot, Renault were not particularly specialized in soft-tops. Since 1945, the Régie had only included this body style very timidly in the shape of the Frégate cabriolet, which was hand-made in minute quantities by coachbuilder Letourneur & Marchand from 1953 to the end of the model (and of Letourneur) in 1960.
As soon as the Dauphine was launched in 1956, the notion of a sporty two-door came pretty naturally. Henri Chapron created the Mouette cabriolet as soon as 1957, manufacturing these in (very) small quantities, at an artisanal scale, until 1960. But Renault figured they could do a lot better by making their own two-door Dauphine using more modern production methods.
Renault did what everyone was doing in the late ‘50s and called upon the Italians. The French selected Ghia (again, the VW connection), but the Italian coachbuilder decided to subcontract the job to Pietro Frua, who designed and built a couple of prototypes by the end of 1957. Unable to get Ghia boss Luigi Segre to return his calls about payment, Frua then decided to display the “Dauphine GT” at the 1958 Geneva Motor Show — without Renault’s say-so.
Renault CEO Pierre Dreyfus was incensed at this and threatened litigation, provoking Ghia to finally get things straightened out with Frua and Renault. The Dauphine GT reemerged at the Paris Motor Show six months later with a number of small changes and a new name: the Floride, available as a coupé or a convertible with an optional hardtop. Well, they did make it with the intent of selling these in the US, after all.
And export it they certainly did. The Dauphine was selling well at the time and including a snazzy Italian-looking two-door companion was a perfect PR move. However, the car’s name was changed to the more geographically neutral “Caravelle” for the North American market.
Production was outsourced to Brissonneau & Lotz In 1962, the Dauphine platform was switched for the new R8. This entailed, among many substantive changes (like disc brakes and a new suspension), a new 950cc engine with the radiator placed at the very tail of the car. The air scoops on the flanks, now pointless, were deleted. The Floride name was progressively retired for the domestic market – it was to be the Caravelle for all.
In the summer of 1963, an even larger engine was given to the car. The Caravelle premiered the new 1108cc 4-cyl., good for 55hp (gross) and mated to a new fully synchronized 4-speed gearbox. Prior to then, the choice was either a fully synchronized 3-speed or a 4-speed without a synchro in 1st – damned if you do, damned if you don’t.
The cabriolet received a redesigned hardtop for 1964. Now that the car had a (sort of) viable rear seat, the metal top provided better headroom, as well as increased visibility thanks to a larger backlight.
Now in its sixth year, the Caravelle was allowed to coast somewhat. It was starting to look a tad passé, both visually and technically; Renault were now looking to switch their entire range to FWD. Production and sales started to head south and the model finally bowed out at the end of the 1967 model year.
While the hoped-for US sales failed to materialize, due to Renault’s amateurish growth strategy and a product (the Dauphine, mainly) that turned out to be ill-suited to local conditions and users, the Caravelle sold extremely well elsewhere.
What does “extremely well” mean exactly? A shade over 117,000 units, coupés and cabriolets combined, were sold between 1958 and 1967. Sure, that’s not all that much compared to, say, the MGB (over half a million made, albeit in 18 years) or the VW Karmann-Ghia (440k, again in 18 years).
But compared to its domestic rivals, the Floride / Caravelle was a runaway sales success. Simca sold fewer than 1500 of their Aronde-derived (and Facel-built) Plein Ciel / Océane coupé and cabriolet (1956-62). The 1957-61 Peugeot 403 cabriolet, of Columbo fame, was made in about 2000 units only; Panhard’s Dyna Z and PL 17 soft-tops (1957-63) barely managed 800 units; the gorgeous but unlucky Facellia (1960-64): 1045 made, including 614 convertibles. The Citroën ID/DS cabriolet similarly scored pretty low, with 1325 units made between 1961 and 1971.
The only French two-door that broke the five-figure mark was the Peugeot 404 C (1962-68) with about 17,000 made, both coupés and cabriolets. And then there is the Renault, way up in the stratosphere. What did all of these other cars have in common? A hefty price tag. All of them (except the stand-alone Facel) cost twice the price of the saloon they were based on. Renault’s Dauphine was a cheap popular car, and the Régie made sure to price the Caravelle only 50% higher, so it was – by a substantial margin – the most affordable “glamour model” two-door in France, as well as in several foreign markets.
So here’s what Renault found out with the Caravelle: pretty, cheap and cheerful sells. Yet the carmaker failed to line up a successor when the time came, eschewing drop-tops altogether for over two decades (until the 1991-95 Renault 19 Cabriolet), thereby allowing Peugeot, VW, Alfa and others to capture the lion’s share of this lucrative niche. Quite a baffling own goal by France’s largest carmaker.
Related posts:
Curbside Classic: 1966 Renault Caravelle – Drama, Intrigue, A Man Named Exner and Disappointing Sales, by Jim Grey
There was a red one parked on the street in Redwood City , a block or so east of the El Camino.
Each time I see a Caravelle, I think of the 1973 movie where the Jackal escapes from the villa and drives to the train station on his way to Paris.
Lots of other Euro cars and motorcycles worth noting in the movie as well.
Nice and good looking car.
Personally, I prefer Columbo’s Peugeot 403 convertible.
I really enjoyed this article about a car that has long fascinated me. I have always loved the styling and now I understand. This Gallic beauty wasn’t wearing quirky French fashion, but chic Italian attire courtesy of Frua. Great way to start my Monday commute.
My mom had one of these in 1963. As an eight year old I thought it was a fantastic car compared to the Dodge Phoenix that we also owned. My older brother loved to park in between two cars and removing the hardtop to climb out. We had it until 1967. I don’t know why it was sold. The only issue we had was over hearing in hot summer temperatures.