The Car of the Future—That Only Lasted until 1975

In 1968 it was announced that Citroën, the idiosyncratic French automaker, would acquire control of Maserati, the storied Italian producer of thoroughbred sports cars. A strange pairing I thought at the time, and wondered what sort of Frankenstein the union would produce.

In 1970 the answer became clear when Citroën introduced the SM, it’s Maserati powered GT. Here was a car that built off of the fabled DS, but in style, specification, and price aspired to be much more.

But first, recall what the automotive landscape looked like in 1970. If you wanted a four-passenger (ish) luxury coupe there was the BMW 2800 CS, the Mercedes-Benz 280SE 3.5 Coupe, as well as the Cadillac Eldorado and Lincoln Continental MKIII.

All fairly conventional mechanically and visually indicative of the design trends of their respective countries.

In comparison, the SM looked other-worldly, like some alien object hovering just above the ground—especially true when dropped to its lowest suspension position. The car defied all normal design trends, except of course Citroën’s own.

Like the DS, aerodynamics played a large part in the way the car looked. A true fastback in profile, it also tapered toward the rear in plan view, adhering to the belief in the teardrop ideal that had been established back in the 1020s.

This resulted in a front track considerably wider than the rear, also like the DS (both cars were also front-wheel drive). But unlike the DS, which dated back to 1955, the SM was a fresh and perhaps more approachable take on modern streamlining.

A large vehicle by European standards, the SM had a long wheelbase with relatively short overhangs. It also had a very long hood and dash-to-axle, the result of the Maserati V6 mounted behind the front axle with the transmission forward of it, which contributed to its distinctive profile.

Equally dramatic was the car’s front, made of six separate headlamps under glass covers that spanned the width of the car. The two inboard lamps steered with the wheels (first used on the DS).

This unfortunately did not meet US federal standards at the time, and US versions of the car instead got four separate lamps without the glass cover, sadly spoiling the look up front.

The front grille was under the bumper, not unlike the Studebaker Avanti, as were separate ducts to cool the inboard brakes.

The rear of the car was somewhat more conventional with horizontal lamps framed by what appeared to be upper and lower bumpers in stainless steel (all brightwork on the car was stainless). A co-worker once described the rear design “only a mother could love.” And he owned one!

Yet, there were some beautiful surface details that may not have been apparent at first glance. The aluminum hood had subtle undulations that formed blisters (or bulges) on either side.

The area just forward of the rear wheel skirt bulged out ever so slightly—as a result of the plan view taper to make way for the rear wheel—to create a surface transition that was both aesthetic but clearly dictated by necessity.

This was in fact the entire design ethos of the car—one of a visual purposefulness that transcended mere styling (even though the car was definitely styled).

The interior of the car was equally unusual with the two front buckets resembling lounge chairs with seat cushions that flowed into the seatbacks, one continuous form.

Elegant, but slightly awkward comfort-wise with backrest adjustment happening more in the middle of your back rather than the typical lower intersection.

All the gauges were oval. With the exception of the instrument panel—on US-specified cars at least—leather covered everything: seats, door panels, and rear quarter trim. The result was both avant-garde and luxurious, befitting a Citroën in this price class.

I’ve concentrated on the visuals of the car because that’s what this column is mostly about, but I would be remiss in not mentioning the crazy, advanced engineering that distinguished the SM from its competition.

Here again most of it was based on the DS—the central hydraulic system that operated the suspension, brakes, and steering, which was an ultra-quick two turns lock to lock that built up resistance with higher speeds.

The four-cam 2.7-liter Maserati V-6 was not the smoothest engine of its type, having been quickly developed off the Maserati V-8, but it did provide enough punch to propel the car to 130 mph and, perhaps more importantly, came with the right credentials.

But you had to drive an SM to realize how well all this worked together in creating a uniquely satisfying car.

The last SM was built in 1975, after Citroën had declared bankruptcy and was absorbed by Peugeot. It was the last French car that recalled the past of greats like Bugatti, Delage, Delahaye, and Talbot-Lago.

For most, it was always too strange, too complicated, too different compared to the ordinary cars of the time. The problem with the SM was that it was designed to be, and was, extraordinary.

Dave Rand (pictured right) is the former executive director of Global Advanced Design for General Motors.