(first posted 9/30/2017) It’s about time to give this little critter the full CC treatment. Though perhaps unfamiliar to some CC readers, the Renault 4CV was one of the most European significant cars of the post-war era. It was the first French car to reach 1 million units, it spawned a rather large family of rear-engined models and its engine was in production for 40 years. But let’s start at the beginning – and in the beginning, there was the Beetle.
Not yet in production, but already influential…
Louis Renault, founding father of the number one French automaker, was fascinated by the façade of success projected by Nazi Germany. At the 1939 Berlin International Auto Show, he saw the KdF-Wagen, as Dr Porsche’s little creation was then known, and was justifiably impressed. He waxed lyrical about the little car back at his factory in Billancourt. But soon, the war intervened. By June 1940, France was defeated while Louis Renault was in the US, seeking licenses for American tanks. By the time he managed to get back to his factory, things had changed quite a bit.
There were now German administrators from Daimler-Benz keeping tabs on the Renault works; Louis Renault found himself sidelined. Some of his engineers were already thinking about the post-war world, however – a world of penury and hardship that could use a very small car. Two engineers, Charles-Edmond Serre and Fernand Piccard, took it upon themselves to design a completely new 760cc water-cooled straight-4, bearing in mind their boss’s bout of Beetle-mania of the previous year. Sometime in the winter of 1940-41, a clutch of Renault engineers were gathered around a wooden mock-up of this engine, when in crept Louis Renault.
Louis Renault (1877-1944) in his later years.
The old man pushed a draughtsman aside and circled the mock-up several times, touching it as if admiring a sculpture. “That is beautiful. What is it?” Serre mumbled: “Picard had a bit of free time, so he designed this little pushrod four.” Up to that point in time, Renaults used flathead designs, as per Louis Renault’s somewhat conservative preferences. “We did this for a small car, possibly rear-engined, if you wanted to make one. We got as far as this mock-up, but we cannot go further. We’re not authorized.” The Germans had expressly forbidden French automakers to plan any new car models. Louis Renault replied: “Not authorized? I don’t give a damn. Build three prototypes and put this mock-up in my office.” And with that, the 4CV was born, at the darkest hour.
Renault planned a completely new post-war range, going from the little rear-engined 4CV to a great big 6-cyl. luxobarge. Prototypes were made and tested from late 1942 onwards. The first 4CV prototype was about as ugly as these things can get, looking like a Beetle drawn by a partially-sighted child with boxing gloves.
By 1944, a second prototype (still with only two doors) was put together, this time with a pseudo-American look: the front hood was straightened and the wings were more bulgy – the 4CV had found its style. But Louis Renault would never get to see the finished product: soon after Paris was liberated, he was put in prison for having been too chummy with the Germans. He died under suspicious circumstances in October 1944 while behind bars. The Renault factory was nationalized in January 1945 and a new director, Pierre Lefaucheux, took the helm.
Less autocratic than his predecessor, Lefaucheux liked the 4CV but wanted to hear the opinions of Renault dealers before committing any of the automaker’s limited resources to the project. The dealers were very enthusiastic, but cautioned that the car would sell far better as a four-door. So a third prototype was made in 1945 to reflect this requirement. There were numerous administrative hurdles to be overcome as well, as the French government’s highly dirigiste slant took its toll on the automotive sector. Lefaucheux managed to get his way and a pre-production 4CV, painted in a peculiar shade of beige from captured Afrika Korps stocks, was one of the highlights of the first post-war Paris Motor Show, held in October 1946.
The main difference between the ’46 and this ’56 (from the rear): rear lights and turn signals.
It took Renault about a year to get production going, but once it got started, the 4CV took France by storm. It was pretty, modern, cheap to buy and run, reliable and fun. The new engine only produced 17 hp, but given the state of most French roads at the time, that was amply sufficient. Plus, there were not that many competitors at that end of the playing field – to start off with, at least.
The 4CV could seat four adults in relative comfort for less money than what Simca asked for their restyled version of the two-seater Fiat Topolino, the Simca 6 (top left), which was launched in 1947. It was not a great success and Simca focused on mid-range cars after 1950. The old pre-war guard was represented by the Licorne LR164 (top right), the marque’s last effort before slipping into oblivion. But two dangerous rivals were emerging: Panhard had switched to small FWD cars with their alloy-bodied Dyna (bottom left), whose performance and dynamics were outstanding – though its price was relatively high as well. And in 1948, Citroën joined the fray with their supremely-suspended (but hopelessly underpowered) 2CV. There was also a horde of microcars to contend with on the immediate post-war market, though the majority of these disappeared by the early ‘50s.
Renault did not bother with variants all that much, although they did introduce a “Commerciale” without rear windows (or rear seats) in 1948 and a swanky “Grand Luxe” découvrable version – the most fashionable body type of the time in Europe – in 1949. Revamped to 747cc in 1950, the little engine had plenty of potential, so 4CVs started to be taken to the track throughout the Continent.
Renault themselves thought they could give their little car a bit more oomph, so they created the “1093 Sport” model, with a whopping 21.5 hp. A more basic “Affaires” model also appeared, as did a 2CV-fighter / poverty-spec “Service” that was completely de-chromed – and was a total bomb.
The Parisian police selected the 4CV as their city cruiser, with several quite notable modifications made by a local coachbuilder. These black and white police cars, dubbed “4CV pie” (magpie) by the public, were a fixture of Parisian traffic for several years. But given the car’s architecture, a van or station wagon were pretty much a non-starter, and Renault did not feel the need to field a two-door 4CV – others would doubtless give that a whirl – which, as we will see later, they certainly did.
In 1954, a significant facelift was undertaken and the front “grille” went from nine thin chrome strips to three thick bars. The 21.5 hp engine soon became the default for the entire range, allowing for a top speed of (allegedly) 100 kph. The launch of the Dauphine in 1956 did signify that the 4CV was not going to carry on for too much longer, but its low price and popularity helped carry it to the end of the 1961 model year.
Nifty handle (above) opens tiny trunk (below) large enough for a tow rope, a toolbox and… loose hubcaps.
Of course, there were plenty of things one could criticize about the 4CV. The front trunk, just as on the Beetle, was ridiculously small, what with that 15’’ spare taking half the space. The 3-speed gearbox was a bit limited, especially compared to the Panhard Dyna and Citroën 2CV’s four gears. The swing axle suspension was relatively comfortable, but could become tricky in bad weather – even given the car’s limited speed. Not a few 4CVs ended up with their wheels pointed at the sky on a snowy day.
The interior space is also very tight, wherever one sits, though the rear seats offer a bit more legroom than in the Beetle. At the front, the wheel wells occupy a significant amount of space, forcing the pedals towards the car’s centre line and the front passenger’s right leg to sit atop his left one.
In the engine bay, one interesting surprise is the location of the fuel filler cap, just above and to the right of the engine block. Any spillover would therefore land directly on the battery – an interesting design quirk that we apparently owe to Dr Ferdinand Porsche. Indeed, when Porsche was made prisoner by the French in 1945, he was sent over to the Renault works with orders to look over the 4CV prototype. The Renault engineers were not amused by this unsolicited consultancy and curtailed Porsche’s activities as much as they could. The placement of the battery was allegedly one of the few suggestions he made that ended up on the production car.
Obviously, the 4CV’s legacy is to be found within Renault’s subsequent rear-engined cars – the Dauphine, the Floride/Caravelle, the R8 and the R10. Some even hailed the current Renault Twingo as a 4CV reboot, though it’s based on a completely different rear-engined platform. The 4CV’s engine, dubbed “Billancourt”, was bored to 845cc (the “Ventoux” engine) for the Dauphine; a 600cc version also existed, as did Gordini and Alpine versions producing well over twice the hp of the original. It remained in production until 1986, powering all manner of rear-engined, FWD and RWD Renaults throughout its long career.
The 4CV made such a mark on Renault’s history that they toyed with the notion of a New Beetle-like remake, complete with mid-engine and retro look. Renault designed and built the Fiftie concept car in 1996, just when the retro fad was peaking and to celebrate the 4CV’s 50th anniversary. As it was built on a Renault Spider chassis, the car was fully roadworthy and could have gone into production had there been an overwhelming public demand. As such, the Fiftie was well-liked, but not so much that Renault felt the need to green-light production.
The 1955 Alpine A106 was pretty much all 4CV underneath.
The 4CV was also the basis for France’s answer to Posrche, the fiberglass-bodied Alpine A106. Started on a wing and a prayer in 1955 by Jean Rédélé, the Alpine used Renault technology exclusively from the beginning, starting with the 4CV. All Alpines until the end of production (in 1996) were rear-engined cars, as clear a filiation as that of the Beetle and the Porsche 911.
Above: 1956 Renault 4CV Autobleu with Chapron coachwork; below: 1957 4CV Rosier convertible.
Alongside the Alpine, the 4CV served as a basis for at least two sports coupés: one was made by racing legend and Renault dealer Louis Rosier, though he died on the racetrack before he could see it finalized. The other, designed by Ghia and built by Chapron, was made by Autobleu, a firm specialized in high-performance parts for the 4CV engine. Neither model had much success, as they were both too expensive and heavy for their own good.
Quite a number of specials – many with souped-up engines – were made on the 4CV platform throughout the ‘50s, from home-built fiberglass runabouts to expertly finished coachbuilt beauties. Antem, Figoni, Ghia (middle left), Labourdette (top right), Motto (bottom left), Pichon-Parat (bottom left), Serra (mid right), Zagato and more obscure creators such as Brissonneau & Lotz (who built the Rosier specials), Duriez (top left) or Zink fit weird and wonderful bodies on the little Renault.
The 4CV was exported far and wide – even to the US – and assembled in Australia, Belgium, Britain, Ireland, South Africa and Spain. But there is one place that welcomed it more than most: in 1954, Japanese automaker Hino signed a licensing contract with Renault and started building the 4CV from CKD kits shipped from France.
Within three years, 75% of the car was locally-sourced. Hino eventually quit paying royalties when production became completely autonomous; build quality and finish surpassed the original. The 4CV continued to be made in Japan until 1964 and ended up spawning the Contessa 900 in 1961 (top) and the Contessa 1300 in 1964 (bottom), both of which were joined by pretty coupé variants.
The radiator cap, with distinctive art-deco trim, was placed just above the engine compartment.
Not too shabby for a Beetle wannabe that was tested clandestinely and put in production by the skin of its teeth. The 4CV almost fathered a line of 2-litre family saloons, too, though prototype testing proved so disastrous that the idea was abandoned in favour of a more traditional RWD solution. Apparently, the handling was (predictably) precarious and the engine could never be cooled properly. It seems the 4CV’s trick of putting the radiator in front of the engine, i.e. between the block and the rear seat, only worked for very small capacities.
Over 1.1 million 4CVs were built at the Billancourt factory alone. This record was surpassed by the 4CV’s immediate successor, the Dauphine (2.2 million made), but the 4CV was the first French car to reach the seven-digit mark. It helped cement Renault as the number one carmaker in France and a key global player at a time when the firm’s nationalized status could have turned it into the French version of Lada or BL.
Drive this thing around France and you’ll see every single baby-boomer, men and women, point and smile. Very few cars do that. The level of sympathy and cheer the 4CV invariably induces in the usually gloomy older French citizen is nothing short of extraordinary. My father (born in 1941) had a second-hand one of these as his first car in the early ‘60s and I bet a majority of his cohort have either ridden in or driven a 4CV sometime in their youth.
By the time I was conscious of my automotive surroundings (the ‘80s), these were no longer a common sight. But there are still affordable and easy to keep running, as intended by their creators. Even though you’ll never get a case of wine to fit in the trunk, this was and still is the French People’s Car.
Related post:
Cohort Sighting: Renault 4CV – How To Outdo Today’s Beetle Owner, by Perry Shoar
Another superb write up of a car too long neglected at CC.
A truly seminal car for Renault and France. French cars were quite uncommon in Austria in the 50s, but there were a few to be seen, and they always got my attention. The fact that such a small car had four doors alone was interesting to me, as two doors predominated the small car offerings in Germany and Italy, as well as GB. The French really were ahead of the rest of the world in demanding four doors.
I always liked the sweep of the roof down over the engine, and those fine cooling vents. And there were all those other details, like the air intakes on the leading edge of the rear fenders. So nicely done.
I’ve never been inside one, but assume its a bit more tight than a Beetle, at least in the front. The front wheel intrusion is clearly more significant than in the VW.
I liked the part about blaming Porsche for the battery location. As you say, it’s “alleged”, but if that was seen as a negative, it’s certainly convenient.
Porsche’s involvement in the 4CV are the source of debate; there seems to be little consensus on it, but it was apparently little to nothing.
The Porsche connection is certainly tenuous, though all the French sources I’ve read place him at Billancourt in late 1945. What he did there (if anything) on the 4CV is harder to pinpoint, as some sources acknowledge, but the battery thing doesn’t seem too far fetched, IMO.
The placement of the battery wasn’t necessarily seen as inconvenient or badly thought out at the time, though it certainly seems strange to modern eyes. Perhaps Porsche also advocated the relocation of the fuel tank to the front, as on the VW, which would have made a lot of sense, but this part of the concept may have been either impractical or pooh-pooed by Renault staff…
What I cannot ascertain is where Renault engineers placed the battery on prototypes 1 and 2 — perhaps in the front, just behind the spare? Locating everything at the rear (water-cooled engine + battery + fuel tank) made for a pretty tail-heavy result in any case.
Interesting article. At the age of 12 in 1966 I was a budding car nut. After my family moved from St. Louis to the Cape Canaveral area of Florida in September of that year, I was puzzled by a few strange four-door cars with big louvers on the rear hood and looking like dehydrated VW Beetles. I soon learned that they were Renaults. However, within a year or two they were gone from the roads and I haven’t seen one in the wild since.
I can see where these fun looking and very interesting cars would be useful in USA, and Canada before the creation of super highways. Back when I grew up in western Pa. state speed limits where 55 for cars and 45 for trucks. But, where I grew up in steep hills, they would rarely have made it to high gear. Only limited access road was the Pa. Turnpike. Easy to see that a 100kph (62 mph) top speed wouldn’t work now on say Interstate 80. I really like the 4cv concept car pictured. Too bad it didn’t become reality.
Here’s a 1949 US ad for the US market. For some odd reason, it was advertised as the “Green Renault” – I think it had something to do with the importer at the time. “Designed for America” – riiiight.
That’s a great ad, and the angle of the rendering makes the car look at least 50% larger than actual size!
What a great article – thank you. I was fascinated by these cars as a kid but don’t think I saw one until in a car museum outside of Brussels in the 80s. I don’t know when they discontinued this feature but I thought having a hand crank option was a nifty idea:
So cool. Triumph TR-4s have a crank hole in the front, but a lot of them don’t have a corresponding hole in the radiator, so they can’t be cranked.
Ran into this very nice Austin at the Motor Muster last June. Saw a hole in the bumper, so, of course, asked if the owner had a crank. What a sport. He even posed with it.
I remember the hand crank hole in the front of Dad’s ’56 Morris Oxford. He never had to use it, but it was there. Many fifties British cars came with holes for the crank.
I remember my Dad using a crank (or starting handle in English) on a Hillman Super Minx, in the late 1960s.
The last car I can remember with a crank hole was the Hillman Hunter/Sunbeam Arrow range
Had a 1961 4CV in 1966 which I crank started many times.
Used to own a glorious series III landrover lightweight. It had a hand crank capability and proved a valuable asset one day when my battery died on a pubic street here in Hong Kong.
Standing around at the time were lots of elderly men, killing their day sitting on the pavement and the nearby park, drinking beers and chatting with their friends. When they observed my failed attempts to start the engine on the 2.2 litre petrol engine, they gathered around to see what was going to happen next.
I left the ignition on, raised the bonnet, retrieved the three foot long hand crank attached to the aforementioned bonnet with two clips, slid it into the hole in the bumper and onto the flywheel of the big end at the bottom….and flipped the crank a mere 90 degrees clockwise.
The engine spluttered into life immediately and I earned a hugh round of applause and laughter from the crowd, and the biggest grin I’ve ever managed to perform to date.
Happy days!
Don’t you hate it when things die on the “pubic street”? Such a mess to clean it up. He he he…
All kidding aside, great story!
Hand cranks persisted for quite a while on some brands my 66 Hillman has a hand crank it works fine for setting valve lash and timing, I could start the car with it but havent as yet.
Very interesting history of a car I was aware of and have seen but never knew much about. The four-door aspect is especially intriguing and would obviously make it more user-friendly than a Beetle.
The Hino connection was very interesting as well, I especially like the Contessa 1300 sedan variant, the styling of which has not a few similarities to the Alfa Giulia and Datsun Bluebird sedans, from the rear at least.
Thanks for this excellent history!
The Contessa 1300’s are very pretty cars indeed; Giovanni Michelotti is responsible for both the sedan and coupe.
Believe it or not, Hino was planning on entering the US market with these, and inlisted Peter Brock of BRE fame to campaign these in the US for 1966 to generate interest.
Hino Contessas were assembled in NZ ending just after the merger/take over by Toyota.
Growing up in Israel I remember all four cars (4CV, Dauphiné, Contessa 900 and 1300) very well, the last three having been assembled locally by Kaiser-Illyn of Haifa. By that time, the 4CV was looking very dated indeed and, even in Israel, those who bought them did so because they could not afford anything better. They were hopelessly under-powered and acted as mobile chicanes on Israel’s narrow, hilly roads. And they over-heated. As a consequence we had a mass extinction in the late 60s early 70s so that (unlike in the case of its true successor, the Renault 4) very few survive. Nowadays they are of course recognized as a classic on the local old car scene and the responses one would get driving a 4CV are the same as in France – everybody likes them.
That explains why I found an ad for the Contessa 1300 in Hebrew… apparently, Israel accounted for 10% of Hino’s automobile exports in the mid-60s.
http://www.automobiles-japonaises.com/Hino/Hino_Contessa1300_Israel.jpg
You’ll find much more here but in Hebrew (Google translate may help): http://israelmotorindustry.org/tag/%D7%A7%D7%95%D7%A0%D7%98%D7%A1%D7%94/
The later Contessa certainly looks more sophisticated than the R10.
+1.
I like the wheels, the negative offset gives the car a confident sporty look.
The cars at the motor shows even had the wheels chromed, very nice !!!
I wonder if the offset of the wheels had anything to do with improving stability, given the swing axle and rear engine.
Another terrific article, on a hugely popular car that I knew little about.
I must say, those Hino derivatives all look fantastic, particularly the sedans. I’d forgotten Hino made cars… that’s a history I would also like to read!
Head right this way: https://www.curbsideclassic.com/automotive-histories/automotive-history-1964-1967-hino-contessa-1300-the-japanese-corvair/
A childhood friends father had a 4CV but I never rode in it, quite a rare car here.
Never saw a 4CV in the frozen wastes of West Michigan. I think the oldest Renault I ever saw was a Dauphine, painted orange with a paper mache stem on the roof and “the great pumpkin” emblazoned on the side…to celebrate the then new “Peanuts” cartoon.
Understandable that crusty older sorts in France would go squishy at the sight of a 4CV, just as certain Americans go squishy at the sight of a Bug, because almost everyone had some experience with one when they were young and frisky.
I like that Ghia special pictured. Quite like another Ghia product, the Fiat Jolly, which, after hiding from me for over 60 years, two of them presented themselves to me this year.
My first car as a junior in high school in San Antonio, Texas was a 1959 cream 4CV Renault. I was a budding francophile having returned to the states after a 3 year stay in France – my dad was career Army and we were stationed in Orleans. It was a cool little car that I drove the wheels off. I averaged 35mpg and could fill up the tank for $1.35. Fast rack&pinion steering, pretty decent brakes (it was light). It had a locking seering wheel and all the controls for horn, lights and wipers were on stalks. It did have its quirks, such as a weak 6volt electrical system. I used the crank starter a lot when the battery wouldn’t hold a charge. Service staion attendants often mistook the radiator cap as the gas cap. I had to watch them like a hawk. It was light enough that some of my football buddies would lift up the front end and wheel it around to the other side of the school parking lot. For what I paid for it I could have had a mid 50’s Chevy or Ford but I wouldn’t have had the experience of driving a funny little French car.
Great article. I remember seeing them while growing up.
Went to Japan in 1962 and thought it strange that a French car would be imported. Did not see a lot of them. After reading the story I suppose they were Hino products.
Thanks for the yarn.
The first trophy that I ever won in a car competition was in a 4CV. An autocross event in 1965 in South Alabama. Much fun for a then young man.
A fraternity brother in about 1959 had one of these. His father gave it to him, presumably to keep him from getting into trouble. He was a brash sort and bad-mouthed it relentlessly, apparently to hide his embarassment for driving such a tiny car.
Always the contrarian, I thought it was neat.
Great writeup.
A buddy in my Metropolitan Nash Club found one of these unrestored and intact ~he bought it and made it run well, it’s a hit at the Unique Little Car Show whenever he brings it .
Maybe it’s a 1957 .
I’d love to try driving one of these .
(! hi Marv !) .
-Nate
I believe a great unjustice has been done to Louis Renault and the Renault family by accusing Renault of collaboration with the German occupation forces.
Renault was stuck between a rock and a hard place: if he refused to collaborate his factories would have been dismantled and brought to Germany, leaving thousands of workers unemployed.
He chose to collaborate with the Germans and keep some control over his factories.
If you search: Google louis renault camions LKW Wehrnacht, you’ll be stunned how many pictures you wiil find where Renault trucks appear, used by the German wehrmacht , they were especially popular on the Eastern front,.
This while Renault had his trucks sabotaged trucks, one famous story is that the markings on the dipsticks were wrong.
What I always understood is that the engineers did not inform Renault at all about the 4CV. All French manufacturars worked for the Germans, like Renault they had no choice.
In my village there resides an early maroon 4CV decaporable (convertible) in absolutely mint condition.
My wife and I call him little braveheart, he is so small, but does his thing in traffic.
I am always amazed how well these must drive and about how well it does in modern traffic. A Beetle seems much more slow.
The Twingo 1 is the spiritual successor of the R4 or 4L as they are called in the Dordogne, but that’s another story! The rear engine of the present Twingo has to to with the fact that
It shares its platform with the Smart car.
The genius of the first Twingo has completely vanished.
Thanks Tatra you could have called this : How the genius of Hans Ledwinka arrived in France !
Louis Renault made a lot of enemies over the years. A combination of people who were jealous of his success, people he slighted through his apparently rather abrasive and humourless demeanour, and people who he had fired over the 40 years he had run the company (i.e. his entire workforce, whom he fired en masse at least twice). He was a pragmatist – and pragmatists don’t do well when ideologues are in power, whether it be the Nazis or the Gaullists / Communists. His overarching principle was how to keep his factory running. That was perhaps not the most politically astute attitude.
Great article.
I did see a few as a kid in the ’70’s, because, I walked to school past the local outer-suburban garage. In a wholly unlikely scenario, the grumpy, racist old Australian owner was a French car nut!
Rare as hens teeth now, though I do see a blue one occasionally buzzing through my area on club plates. The photos give readers no clue as to just how weeny these machines really are, about 18 inches shorter, 4 inches narrower and 300 pounds lighter than the air-cooled Beetle.
There were quite a lot around in Melbourne in the fifties and sixties, so much so that I never really noticed them until one on my block disappeared. I guess everyone wanted to move on to a ‘better’ car once they could afford it.
I have wondered about the offset and wide bolt pattern wheels that I see on some 4CV’s. were they optional, from another car, or aftermarket?
“Some 4CV’s” All 4CVs had those wheels; they have a wide bolt pattern because they leave much of the drum exposed. Which saves some steel and weight on the wheels. A number of European manufacturers, even VW.
As to why they have such a deep offset, I can’t exactly tell you. But they do, and did from the first production models.
As I recall, Paul, my 4CV has a solid center section wheel with 3 lugnuts. The center hole of the wheel was treaded for a bolt that attached the hubcap. I’ve been trying to find a photo of the wheel sans hubcap on the internet but all the pictures of 4CVs are restored with their hucaps in place. Mine was a later model and Renault may have used the new design wheel from the Daupine. Perhaps the earlier model had the open centers.
I did find one image. Hope it works.
Yes, thanks for reminding me. Those later models did use different wheels and hubs, shared with the Dauphine to lower production costs.
VW, Vauxhall Ford US and UK used those wide bolt patterns years ago it wasnt unusual back in the day.
Just for shiggles look at 1937 Ford wheels .
-Nate
What a fascinating study of a car that I knew almost nothing about. The Dauphine developed a reputation for fragility, and from comments it does not sound like these were as robust as some other French cars.
I fell in love with the Dauphine when it appeared, at the New York Auto Show that year. Later, an uncle in Connecticut bought a Caravelle for his wife. I was amazed at how far back the door was placed relative to the front seat position. I never drove these cars, of course.
I was interested to see three-lug wheels on Citroens. Don’t know if that includes the pre-war TA. Americans must have been horrified. Even in recent years Honda and others have seen fit to replace 4-lug wheels with 5. Why not eight !
Why not just one wheel nut like Rudge and others used, 3 lugs worked fine on Citroens Peugeots Hillmans and others for decades.
Started reading, then scrolled back to the byline. Tatra87, of course!
Many thanks for this much needed part of CC history.
Thanks for a walk down memory lane. Had two 4CV sedans. The neighbors mid next block were very experimental with their cars, and on the corner the other direction was my friend that was stationed in Germany and kept sending strange vehicles home. They bought one of the later ones first (think a ’60 or ’61) with solid wheels and three lugs with bolt on hubcap. My Citroen DS 21 Pallas had the same pattern, the Renault did not terrify me, the Citroen did, it was a lot bigger and faster. I’d already had a Citroen 2CV, which felt a whole lot weirder than the 4CV. I tend to drive aggressively (a lot more then than now) the 2CV, other than extreme lean angles, and bounding down the road, most people wouldn’t know you were attempting to go fast (other than the little screaming engine). Putting it on the door handles in cornering was about 15, maybe 20 mph. The 4CV felt faster, and felt amazingly good in traction up to the moment the 4CV was on 2 wheels with me looking out the driver’s window with a view of the pavement way closer than the Citroen ever afforded. Turning that direction instantly brought it back down and wagging it’s tail slightly,seemed to say,”There, we’re all fine again. It scared the hell out of me. The second car then came into play. I bought it with the first one as a parts car (why they bought it) It was any where from a ’56 to a ’59, it seemed to have pieces from each years. It was spray canned semi gloss black all over, with fairly good red and yellow flames painted across the front, around the fenders and up the hood. It had chrome rims with hubcaps, bumpers that came with it but weren’t on, and most of all it had a totally different stance because it had been raced. It had a blown head gasket. I fixed that and found it not only quicker (had a pumped Dauphine engine), but cornered much better and much faster. I changed the others suspension and steering adjustments. It was still glistening black with light interior wide whitewalls and full chrome bolt on wheel covers. The jambs on the race car were a beautiful medium turquoise, I stripped it down, did the body work, painted it that color, and had the bumpers rechromed and then put very subtle “ghost” flames in a darker turquoise on the front before rubbing the paint out. I located a fresher interior in a wrecking yard (try that now) I also put wide whites on it (strange in the article the french police car had wide whites) I really did enjoy running 9/10 and 10/10 in these little cars, where for the same thrill I’d have to run 150+mph in my big block cars. It also lead to a Dauphin sedan I did the Gordini on and a R-8 special ordered by my aunt originally. She lost a leg to diabetes. She ordered it as a Gordini with the push button automatic trans. First time I drove it, I was driving easy, she said punch it. I did at about 20 mph. I didn’t realize it had the electric or whatever it was clutch. It suddenly was freewinding then slammed into a lower gear. My cousin outside the car said it did a mild wheelie when it caught the gear. I learned you applied power progressively. I had that car about a year, but never wanted to know how the trans operated inside, it would just worry me. I also had an R 10, and a lovely Caravelle, light tan with red leather inside and black top It was pumped and after almost losing it on a corner had suspension mods. Glynis Johns drove one in “The Cabinet Of Dr. Calgari” For anyone too young to have missed Miss John’s, more’s the pity, she was sexy, perfect, sang and danced as well as acting, just wonderful. I had the Caravelle several years and realized I wasn’t driving it enough, it deserved more. I sold it to a Francophile friend I’d sold french cars before. A few years later a friend in the Navy brought a couple of cars back from Japan. A Hino Contessa 1300 sedan, and a beautiful little thing called a Sprint. Even in faded emerald/jade paint it was gorgeous. I traded him a Triumph Spitfire I’d restored in a light haze green (for that Froggy look) I had no idea they were based on the 4CV, the Sprint suspension was decent and power was adequate, but that styling was sooo good. The sedan was more for parts, but did run. Before it came to the US the sedan had been in n accident. Repaired the front still had a slight downward bend to the front panel and somehow looked angry. I looked at the Sprint more than drove it, and I’m thankful more people know about Hino Contessa’s now. I’m tried for years to convince friends they actually were real. Also the photo of the Dunez convertible, I saw a couple of photos MANY years ago, it looked like a 3/4 scale 47 Studebaker convertible, gorgeous, never knew what it was.
My Dad had a ’68 R10, bought new at Almartin motors in South Burlington, Vt after his ’59 Beetle was totalled parked in front of our house when a teenager ran his car into it. The Beetle wasn’t too much of a loss, it was plenty rusty by then. The Beetle was my Dad’s first “2nd” car, the Renault was his 2nd. At the time he bought the Renault, he was making regular trips to Corbeil-Essones south of Paris on business, and probably a big reason he bought the Renault (he’d become something of a francophile at the time due to his travels). He had it through 1974.
I remember him keeping a battery charger in the front trunk, though I don’t recall whether it was 6V or 12V…the charger was dual range (we still have it) but he didn’t use the car for anything but commuting, so it wasn’t driven much…probably only had about 20k miles on it when he got rid of it in ’74. I started driving weeks after he sold it, so I never got to drive it. He had the clutch go on it coming back from a Washington Senators baseball game…we’d moved to Northern Virginia in the interim (before moving back to Vt for a 2nd tour) and that’s where he sold it.
It was his first car with Michelin tires and 4 wheel disks, think they were manual.
Mom didn’t like the styling of the car, she thought it looked too symmetric (as if you could turn around and drive the car looking through the back glass).
My Dad was in Germany in the early 50’s and that’s the first time he drove a Beetle; they assigned him one (no Jeep…guess they were in Korea) when he had to travel…he also drove a REO truck there. He owned the Beetle starting in 1966, before that he had to plan to go shopping with my Mother every weekend or at night since they only had one car….our house had a 1 car garage (which is why the Beetle was parked in front of our home when it was totalled).
Fascinating piece. The 4CV looks even more beetle-like than the VW.
Many thanks for your kind words, everyone. Great to know these little posts are appreciated, as are the cars themselves – this one especially, with its bags of character and massive influence on not just Renault, but also Hino, Alpine and others.
That’s it for French cars for a little while – but I did travel to the extremes of Europe (well, two extremes, anyway) over the summer, so more interesting finds coming up soon…
Superb writing, lots of informations about a car that have a special place in my heart.
They were quite popular in Brazil and the unofficial name down there is: Renault “Rabo Quente” ( Hot Ass) not because its sexy butt but because the little rear engine would easily overheat when abused, specially during summer time.
When I was 5 maybe 6 year old, my uncle bought a 4CV for almost nothing and I remember riding in that car with him all over our neighborhood. In my mind that tiny thing was more like a supersized toy than a real car. And I loved it, the suicide doors, the louvered hood, everything was so different.
One day he and his gang were doing “timed” laps around our block and he flipped over his 4CV.
When I saw the car destroyed I felt just like if someone had broken my favorite toy.
Great piece, filling many gaps for me.
This sounds like France’s take on the Morris Minor, dating from the same time though beating the Minor to the market, featuring 4 doors as the Minor did from 1950, and being at the leading edge of design, and the first of its nation to sell a million.
But unlike the Minor, it got proper development and replacement, and we know the story.
Thanks!
I remember as a child, reading a s/h copy of Autocar magazine with pictures of the Le Mans 24 hours, maybe 1952, and there among the racing cars and the odd Cadillac was a 4CV ! I guess the French didn’t have much else they could race.
LeMans in those days was a proper race in which there were classes for most sorts of cars, from the minis to the supercars of the day. Speed differentials caused a few memorable accidents ( or at least memorable for those who survived them!)
The French manufacturers were dead serious about both the class victories and the “Index of Performance” in which cars were rated by their performance by engine capacity and suchlike. It gave very real advertising clout in the business of selling cars.
The real winner at Le Mans was the winner of the Index of Performance and it was often one of the littlies – Panhard did particularly well in this with very advanced technology, despite diminutive motors.
The 4CV actually did quite well at LeMans, despite their size
Is any more information available regarding Renault’s planned big 6-cylinder luxobarge proposal?
It only took me a year to reply to you, dear Lotus…
I mentioned it in passing in this post, with a photo of its 4-cyl sister:
https://www.curbsideclassic.com/curbside-classics-european/big-rear-engined-four-door-cars-part-2-european-efforts/
Here’s all I know: the Vivasport was derived from the 1943 Primaquatre 4-cyl.’s body and chassis, using IFS / live rear axle and coils all around, Buick-style. (A 1940 Buick Super was apparently shipped back to France by Louis Renault himself.) The only difference was the 6-cyl’s longer nose. The engine of the Vivasport saloon was the pre-war Renault 23 CV flathead straight-6 (4080cc). A convertible and a coupe were also planned, but never made.
Renault sold a healthy number of 6-cyl. (and a few 8-cyl,) cars in the ’30s and Louis Renault figured these folks might want one after the war. He was probably wrong — the big Renaults would have been too big for the post-war climate.
Around 1968, I bought a 4CV for $25, and actually used it for daily transportation. It was fun to drive, and the rear engine made the car quieter and cooler than most small cars without AC. Often it wouldn’t start. (Pretty common problem with poorly maintained old 6 volt cars with low output generators.) More than once I rescued myself by starting it with the crank. This car had a finned aluminum valve cover and tubular exhaust headers attached with brass nuts, a brilliant idea as they never rust. It also had a steel radiator, used in the early models due to a copper shortage after the war. One problem in those days of full service gas stations, was getting out of the car before the attendant tried to fuel it through the radiator cap.
A good friend of mine and a friend of his showed up one night @ 1964 (?) in one of these. It belonged to my friend’s friend, and I had never seen one of these or even a picture of one! This was in Madison, WI where on the Capitol Square we teeny boppers “CRUISED” at the time: around n round the 4 sides of the Square which was distance of 1 mile.
The tiny car, with three of us in it, could not exactly give the HUGE, rumbling American V8s a “run”; for that matter we were lucky not to get RUN OVER! One might wonder if R&T’s Peter Egan ever wrenched on the lil car?? He did work in the Service Dept on a import dealer that handled various unusual-for the Mid West-European makes on Madison’s west side IIRC.
Looking at the pics of the car now, it appeals to my jaded designer eyes much more than back then. It simply looked strange to a teen ager who was in love with the 1963 Pontiac GP!! Those were fun, if naive, times. 🙂 DFO
I almost got the colour right!
It’s an old kit from Heller of France, that dates back to the 1970s.
Very very nice! Love the view selection, and the way you have ‘posed’ this Renault, with the front wheels tuned to the left. I find the successful design of the smallest cars, among the greatest challenges. And why I appreciate such attractive design, in such a compact package.
Thanks. I figured the tail is the most distinctive view of this cute little car. As I read the feature I was reminded just how tiny these are, amazingly so for a three-box design. Or should that be one and two half-boxes? 🙂
My father resisted buying a car for many years.
He claimed this was due to principles, but I believe it was his parsimony that led him to the choice of a used Renault 750 as the family’s first car. This, in car-mad Australia in the early 60s, when he could have picked up a much more capacious Holden or Ford, now seems a very odd decision. It formed a very snug fit for me a family of four.
This tiny vehicle was the unlikely conveyance for a much-anticipated trip to the snow one chilly day; mighty Mount Donna Buang, (1245 m /4084 ft), east of Melbourne, was the destination. The climb proved to be an almighty struggle for the car, which slowed to less than walking pace with a huge tail of other, more impatient drivers of normally powerful cars eager for some snow sightseeing behind us.
The 750 was very relieved when we at last made it to the top. Look! There was snow, fully three inches thick! Fantastic! Out I jumped. I instantly came down with a severe asthma attack; and still wince when I recall the large band of concerned tourists who gathered around this small boy struggling for breath. Even if I’d had medication with me, it was pretty ineffective; it was totally necessary for the family to immediately get back in the car and beat a retreat. The descent proved much faster than the ascent.
The car did come with a rare, exotic factory extra, a fitted suitcase made in Paris. This was a really bizarre shape, a compromise between a triangle and a rectangle, in order to fit the tiny boot – clothes must have emerged with very odd creases. It would nowadays merit an appearance on Antiques Roadshow.
The Renault was sold on after my mum, a timid learner driver, managed to collide at a very low speed with a road roller. It was replaced by a 1964 Ford Cortina, much more sensible.
The suitcase, for some reason, stayed with the family; I am ashamed to admit that I burnt it in the back yard. In those days, having a fire in the backyard was common and a source of great enjoyment for many kids; we had a 40 gallon drum incinerator. The finest blaze of my pyromaniac childhood was when I set fire to an old phonograph; blue flames rushed out!
So much clever, and beautiful, artistry on display here. Love it.
They were not common in Toronto, but in the mid 60s, when I was in high school in the suburbs, the parent’s of another student drove a black one. I am sure it was a second car, as at that time no one would have such a small car as their main transportation. Unfortunately I never had a ride in it.
I had a cousin with one in the early 70’s. He was even quirkier than I am on cars. I don’t know if I even rode in it, or how long or how much it was running. I do recall two things about it, the set of Michelin, X-stop tires, 135 section width, might have been stock might have been one narrower, that he got for a song, and I swear it had a semi auto tranny complete with a valve body. That he took off or something and there were a couple of check balls in it that had to be in the correct place with only a couple of hundred possibilities.
He might have also had a Dauphine, but I’m pretty sure the tranny was on the 4CV. I’m not sure he ever got it running and on the road, even thought it started and ran. It did seem small and fragile compared to the ’64 VW bug I was driving at the time.
Mike ;
I had a Dauphine with the “Ferlic Clutch” option, this was a three speed manual box coupled via an electromagnetic clutch that varies the magnet’s pull strength via a throttle positioner and the voltage in the field windings in the generator .
Renaults, like all French cars were different, *very* different .
Yes they were significantly more delicate but those who took the time to learn them got good service out of them .
Bummer he never got it sorted out, they were weird but fun to drive .
-Nate
I grew up in a small city with a lot of engineers (incl. my father) in the fifties, and there were so man fascinating foreign cars in that town. The mother of a friend of mine had a 4CV. I loved riding in it! What an adventure. I always wanted one but the closest I ever came was a Renault 5 in college.