Feathered Resilience - In the years following World War II, Japan was a nation rebuilding not only its cities but its confidence in innovation. Amid the shortages and the slow pulse of recovery, a new generation of engineers and dreamers sought to redefine what mobility could mean for ordinary people. Among them was a man with a vision as light as air yet grounded in practicality. The Suminoe Flying Feather, displayed at the Petersen Automotive Museum, was born from both necessity and imagination during a time when Japan in the late 1940s struggled to restart production of even the most basic consumer goods.
The Suminoe Flying Feather, displayed at the Petersen Automotive Museum, was born from both necessity and imagination during a time when Japan in the late 1940s struggled to restart production of even the most basic consumer goods. (Picture from: Hagerty)
Its creator, Yutaka Katayama, had long worked at Nissan, guiding the company’s advertising and promotional efforts. But as Nissan resumed building cars after the war—largely British-derived Austin models—Katayama saw a problem. Japan’s people were not ready for large, expensive sedans when food and fuel were scarce. What the nation needed, he believed, was a car that was small, affordable, and approachable. His vision mirrored the logic that had produced Germany’s Volkswagen Beetle and France’s Citroën 2CV: a “people’s car” designed for survival, not status.
The Suminoe Flying Feather, an early 350cc cycle-car crafted by Yuaka Katayama and Ryuichi Tomiya for Suminoe Manufacturing back in 1954. (Picture from: Flickr-MrScharroo)
To bring his idea to life, Katayama joined forces with Ryuichi Tomiya, a designer renowned for his creativity and precision. Tomiya, who would later establish the Tomiya Research Institute and design the distinctive Fuji Cabin three-wheeler, shared Katayama’s conviction that mobility should be simple, efficient, and within reach of ordinary citizens. Together, they imagined a car that stripped away everything unnecessary, leaving only what was essential to move people forward—both literally and symbolically.
Yutaka Katayama posed along with the Suminoe Flying Feather in 1954. (Picture from: Hagerty)
By 1950, their imagination had materialized into the first prototype of the Flying Feather. It was a tiny, doorless convertible that resembled a toy Jeep,perched on motorcycle wheels and powered by a small air-cooled Nissan engine mounted at the rear. The design was radically minimalist, yet spirited. When Katayama presented it to Nissan executives, they were intrigued by its novelty and considered adding it to the company’s lineup as a complement tothe larger Austin sedans. For a brief moment, it seemed Japan’s postwar “people’s car” might become a reality.
The Suminoe Flying Feather features a minimalist gray body with a cheerful front design, round headlights, and a compact stance that perfectly reflects its lightweight, postwar Japanese engineering spirit. (Picture from: RoadAndTrack)
That hope quickly faded when Katayama’s sense of humanity collided with
corporate politics. During a factory strike over poor working
conditions, he brought food to hungry workers—a gesture that, while
compassionate, angered Nissan’s management. The incident ended his
tenure at the company, but not his determination. He and Tomiya
continued refining their vision independently, creating a second
prototype that embodied their design philosophy with greater
sophistication and grace.
The Suminoe Flying Feather features an extremely simple interior with a bare metal dashboard, two basic gauges, a thin steering wheel, and plaid-upholstered seats that emphasize its minimalist postwar design philosophy. (Picture from: RoadAndTrack)
This evolved Flying Feather featured an air-cooled 350cc V-twin engine producing 12.5 horsepower, independent suspension at both ends, and a curb weight of just 935 pounds. It gained real doors, a cleaner silhouette, and a playful, aerodynamic shape highlighted by its bug-eye headlights and tapered rear vents. The car’s windows didn’t roll down—they swung upward like wings—while the interior was stripped to the bone, its seat frames and springs left exposed beneath a thin fabric pad. It was not luxury; it was liberation on wheels.
The Suminoe Flying Feather's interior was stripped to the bone, its seat frames and springs left exposed beneath a thin fabric pad. It was not luxury; it was liberation on wheels. (Picture from: RoadAndTrack)
After approaching several suppliers, Katayama finally found a partner in Suminoe Engineering Works, a company that specialized in interiors and components for Nissan. Suminoe agreed to produce the Flying Feather, and the project soon caught the attention of Japan’s Ministry of International Trade and Industry (MITI), which expressed interest in nurturing it as a domestic “people’s car.” In 1954, the production version made its public debut at the Tokyo Auto Show, where it was hailed as “the smallest, cheapest, and most economical practical car in the world.” For a moment, it seemed that the Flying Feather might truly take flight.
The Suminoe Flying Feather featured an air-cooled 350cc V-twin engine producing 12.5 horsepower, independent suspension at both ends, and a curb weight of just 935 pounds. (Picture from: RoadAndTrack)
But that moment was short-lived. The promised government backing never arrived, and when Suminoe lost its contract with Nissan, financial ruin
followed. Production halted after only about 200 cars were built. A handful of them survived, some restored decades later as rare relics of an era defined by both hardship and hope. The Flying Feather’s wings were clipped before it could soar, yet its story refused to fade. | h3T8nSRLfDo |
Katayama’s own story, however, continued to rise. He reconciled with Nissan and went on to transform the company’s fortunes abroad, bringing the Datsun brand to the United States and overseeing the birth of icons like the Datsun 510 and the legendary 240Z. By the time of his passing at 105, his name had become synonymous with Japan’s automotive ascent. And though the Flying Feather occupies only a small corner of his legacy, it remains a symbol of postwar resilience—a reminder that progress often begins not with grandeur, but with a light, fragile idea daring to lift off the ground. *** [EKA | FROM VARIOUS SOURCES | TOYOTA AUTOMOBILE MUSEUM | HAGERTY | ROADANDTRACK ]
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Ingenious Whimsy - When people today think of futuristic car design, they often imagine sleek electric vehicles, self-driving systems, and AI-assisted dashboards. Yet, over eight decades ago, in the middle of wartime Europe, one Dutch inventor envisioned a very different kind of future on wheels — one that could literally fit through the front door of your house. That peculiar yet brilliant idea materialized as the DAF Rijdende Regenjas, or “Driving Raincoat,” a one-of-a-kind microcar that remains one of the most eccentric yet innovative creations in automotive history.
The DAF Rijdende Regenjas or “Driving Raincoat,” a one-of-a-kind microcar crafted by Hubert van Doorne that remains one of the most eccentric yet innovative creations in automotive history. (Picture from: Thingies in Facebook)
The story begins in the early 1940s, during a time when resources were scarce and the Netherlands was under occupation. Hubert van Doorne, a mechanical genius and the founder of Van Doorne’s Aanhangwagenfabriek N.V. — later known simply as DAF — was not the type to sit still, even during a war. His factory, originally dedicated to trailers and machinery, became the birthplace of an idea both whimsical and practical: a tiny, single-person car that could serve as an alternative to bicycles for elderly nurses and factory workers who still needed to travel efficiently.
The DAF Rijdende Regenjas or “Driving Raincoat,” was a tricycle-like car so compact that could serve as an alternative to bicycles for elderly nurses and factory workers who still needed to travel efficiently.(Picture from: WeirdWheels in Reddit)
Van Doorne’s challenge was as peculiar as it was ambitious. The vehicle had to be small enough to fit inside a hallway — literally. The result was a tricycle-like car so compact that it earned the affectionate nickname“Rijdende Regenjas,” or “Driving Raincoat,” because, in essence, it was like wearing a machine rather than sitting in one. At roughly 80 centimeters wide, the three-wheeler could pass through most Dutch front doors with ease.
The DAF Rijdende Regenjas was powered by a 125 cc single-cylinder motorcycle engine connected to a hydraulic torque converter developed by DAF itself — a system that would later evolve into the CVT (Continuously Variable Transmission).(Picture from: Thingies in Facebook)
Despite its modest appearance, the Rijdende Regenjas was far from a toy. It was powered by a 125 cc single-cylinder motorcycle engine connected to a hydraulic torque converter developed by DAF itself — a system that would later evolve into the CVT (Continuously Variable Transmission) still used in millions of cars today. The car’s front wheel could rotate a full 180 degrees, allowing it to reverse without the need for a traditional gear system, and even pivot in place if turned 90 degrees. In essence, it was an early exercise in maneuverability and design efficiency that most modern city cars still aspire to achieve.
Van Doorne thought through every detail. The car had only one door, but he anticipated the risk of it tipping over — after all, it was a three-wheeler — so he fitted it with a folding roof that could serve as an emergency exit. The ingenuity was typical of his practical engineering style: function first, but always with a touch of human consideration.
The DAF Rijdende Regenjas’s front wheel could rotate a full 180 degrees, allowing it to reverse without the need for a traditional gear system, and even pivot in place if turned 90 degrees.(Picture from: Thingies in Facebook)
Production plans were on the table once the war ended, but reality had other ideas. Europe was rebuilding, priorities had shifted, and the Rijdende Regenjas never went into mass production. Still, its story was far from over. In 1947, the whimsical little car found a new purpose at the children’s circus ’t Hoefke in Deurne, a local troupe co-founded with Van Doorne’s support. His twin daughters, Anny and Tiny, performed there with their horses, and it’s likely that the car was either donated or loaned to the circus rather than sold.
The DAF Rijdende Regenjas had only one door, yet its design cleverly included a folding roof that doubled as an emergency escape in case of a rollover.(Picture from: WeirdWheels in Reddit)
At the circus, the Rijdende Regenjasbecame part of a comedic act starring clowns Rits and Rats — Fried van Moorsel and Piet van Hoof — who were famously “chased” around the ring by the tiny car, driven either by Van Doorne’s chauffeur Harrie van der Heijden or Frans Baarends. The car that was once conceived as a wartime mobility solution now brought laughter to children — an unexpected second life for a machine born out of necessity.
A decade later, when the circus closed its tent for good in 1957, the little car returned home. Van Doorne had it restored, and it eventually found a permanent place in the DAF Museum in Eindhoven, where it still sits today — a compact testament to imagination, adaptability, and the joy of invention. | vkwlM2QXCV4 | z3XFYskqe14 |
Looking at it now, the DAF Rijdende Regenjas feels both quaint and visionary. It may look like something from a cartoon, yet its design principles — efficiency, compactness, and mechanical innovation — are surprisingly aligned with the values of today’s urban mobility. Electric scooters, microcars, and foldable e-bikes all chase the same goal Van Doorne had in the 1940s: freedom of movement in a crowded world.
So, while the Rijdende Regenjas never rolled off a production line, it rolled into history with quiet significance. It stands as a delightful reminder that true innovation doesn’t always roar — sometimes, it hums softly through a 125 cc engine, wearing a raincoat. *** [EKA | FROM VARIOUS SOURCES | WIKIPEDIA | THINGIES IN FACEBOOK | WEIRDWHEELS IN REDDIT ]
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Mini Masterpiece - There’s something endlessly fascinating about cars that dared to be different. Long before SUVs and minivans became the go-to family transporters, a few brave innovators imagined compact vehicles that could carry both people and spirit — blending function, character, and an unmistakable charm. Among those visionaries stood Fiat, and perhaps one of its most captivating creations was the Fiat Abarth Multipla, a tiny yet spirited machine that managed to be practical, playful, and surprisingly ahead of its time.
The Fiat Abarth Multipla, a tiny yet spirited machine that managed to be practical, playful, and surprisingly ahead of its time. (Picture from: Wikimedia)
Mechanical Whimsy - There’s something endlessly charming about how post-war Europe embraced creativity on wheels. Scarcity gave rise to innovation, and few examples better capture that spirit than the enchanting yet obscure Citroën 2CV Radar — a unique creation by Belgian Citroën dealer Robert Radar. It's a car born not from a major automaker’s drawing board, but from the mind of a passionate man with racing roots, mechanical precision, and an eye for unconventional beauty.
The Citroën 2CV Radar in its full form, showcasing the two-tone fiberglass body with distinctive flowing lines and compact proportions. (Picture from; QuirkyRides in X)
Robert Radar, a trained mechanic with racing experience from the roaring ‘20s, poured his ingenuity into creating something exceptional. After years of hands-on experience with Citroën and running his own garage in Liège, he designed a roadster in 1956 that was unlike anything else on the road — sleek, curvy, and distinctly French, yet built on the famously utilitarian Citroën 2CV chassis. His creation was so unconventional that it still turns heads today with its surreal, almost dreamlike shape.
A closer look at the front profile reveals the smooth bonnetless nose and rounded curves that give the 2CV Radar its whimsical character. (Picture from; Facebook)
Visually, the 2CV Radar is a car that seems torn between the world of engineering and artistic sculpture. From certain angles, it looks like it belongs in a museum of modern art rather than on a city street. Its exaggerated curves, wing-like rear fenders, and bulbous proportions might strike some as odd or even whimsical. But that’s precisely what makes it stand out. It's not trying to mimic the sports cars of its time; it boldly carves its own path, unafraid of looking different.
Robert Radar originally built the car as a minimalist open-top roadster, like the one shown here, with later versions gradually evolving into fixed-roof coupés.(Picture from; Corfo.JouwWeb.be)
Robert Radar initially built the car as a minimalist open-top roadster, with later versions evolving into fixed-roof coupés like the one shown here. This is the kind of car that walks the fine line between “weird” and “wonderful,” and ends up owning both labels with confidence.
Front view of a bonnetless red Citroën 2CV Radar roadster, showcasing its fluid fiberglass curves, distinctive grille with Citroën chevrons, and exposed headlamps—an example of Robert Radar’s minimalist, hand-built design.(Picture from; Corfo.JouwWeb.be)
The body is crafted entirely from polyester — a cutting-edge material at the time — with an organic flow that almost seems to melt into the road. From the exaggerated, flowing rear fenders to the low-slung nose and minimalistic grille, this car radiates aerodynamic ambition and creative freedom. One of the most distinctive features is its roofline: a fixed hardtop that seamlessly curves into the body, contrasting in color (usually white over deep red or burgundy) and housing what appears to be a rear window froma Citroën DS, cleverly repurposed as a windshield. Even the bumpers and side trims feel custom-made, cleanly integrated into the design without distracting from the smooth surface. Every curve, every bulge, serves both form and function, a visual poem written in fiberglass.
Robert Radar behind the wheel of his creation, the ‘Radar’, a uniquely styled vehicle based on the Citroën 2CV platform.(Picture from; TotalKitCar)
Step inside, and you’ll find the simplicity of the 2CV still present, but wrapped in a slightly more elegant shell. The dashboard and interior layout remain faithful to the original, but with subtle upgrades like improved trim and modest upholstery enhancements to match the Radar’s grander presence. Don’t expect luxury, though — this was still an affordable, lightweight roadster designed to retain the spirit of the 2CV’s simplicity.
A rare coupé-style variant of the 2CV Radar, featuring a two-tone fiberglass body and elegant roofline, photographed at a vintage car gathering.(Picture from: M124a.LiveJournal)
Under the skin, things get more interesting. Originally powered by a standard 425cc flat-twin engine, Robert Radar didn’t stop there. He boosted the performance by upgrading to a 500cc displacement and fitting a dual-carburetor setup. With a reinforced suspension system and the addition of a stabilizer bar, the Radar wasn’t just a showpiece — it could reach up to 120 km/h, a genuinely impressive feat for a car that started life as a humble people’s vehicle. Light weight, clever aerodynamics, and a peppy heart turned it into a surprisingly spirited drive.
Rear view of the Radar, highlighting its sculpted fenders, minimalist taillights, and the DS-sourced rear window repurposed as the windshield.(Picture from; QuirkyRides in X)
What truly sets the 2CV Radar apart is how rare and it is. After Radar built a few bodies himself — some assembled in his own garage, others sold as kits — Citroën Belgium became intrigued. From 1959 to 1962, they produced about 60 fiberglass bodies, of which only 20 were completed as full vehicles. The production process was split between facilities in Belgium and even extended into northern France, involving several craftsmen who ensured the assembly quality met the unique vision.
This is one of the earlier models of the 2CV Radar, shown with a bonnet, with an optional windscreen available to customers at the time.(Picture from; TotalKitCar)
Changes were made during this limited production run: some lost the original bumpers in favor of sleeker side bars, the door handles disappeared, and the body was slightly reworked to ease access to mechanical parts. But the soul remained intact — a quirky, sculptural reinterpretation of the 2CV that was both accessible and unlike anything else Citroën ever offered.
These are two roadster variants built by Robert Radar on the Citroën 2CV chassis—one on the left featuring a bonnetless nose with smooth curves, and the other on the right equipped with a full bonnet and lacking a windshield. (Picture from; Classic And Recreation Sportscars in Facebook)
The 2CV Radar even played a minor role in history. It appeared at the 1958 Brussels World's Fair and in showrooms, proudly wearing its uniqueness like a badge of honor. For 75,000 Belgian francs — around 25% more thana regular 2CV — buyers could own something exceptionally rare, fun, and fashionably French.
Rear view of a pastel-blue Citroën 2CV Radar roadster lacking a
windshield, highlighting its fluid fiberglass curves, exposed cockpit, and minimalist rear styling. (Picture from; PreWar)
Only a handful of these rolling sculptures survive today, with perhaps fewer than six known examples still in existence. Each remaining car is a rolling tribute to Radar's vision and the post-war spirit of creativity. They may look a bit odd today, parked among modern machines, but that’s exactly what makes them so captivating — they were never meant to fit in. | ovoIP1fIXmI |
Maestro Works - There was a time when small cars carried big personalities, and one of the most eccentric examples came from the unexpected collaboration between Ford and the legendary German designer Luigi Colani. Known for his obsession with organic, flowing forms, Colani believed that good design should imitate nature — and in 1998, that philosophy took shape in one of the most unusual Fords ever built: the Colani Ford Ka.
The Ford Ka highlights its sweeping side and rear contours, where Luigi Colani’s flowing design transforms the compact hatch into a sculpted piece of motion. (Picture from: LuigiColani in Reddit)
It all began when Ford wanted to inject more attitude into its then-new city car, the Ka. At the Essen Motor Show in 1998, they asked Colani to reimagine the compact hatchback into something bold and aerodynamic — something that could stand out from every other small car on the road. What resulted was less of a simple facelift and more of a design statement that seemed to bendthe Ka’sshape into a liquid form.
The Ford Ka flaunts its bold front design, featuring Colani’s signature aerodynamic curves and futuristic lines that give the small car a fearless personality.(Picture from: LuigiColani in Reddit)
From the front, the Colani Kalooks like it’s been sculpted by wind rather than by human hands. The headlights stretch upward into teardrop shapes, while the bumper forms two gaping intakes that give the car a quirky but aggressive face. The fenders are dramatically widened, housing distinctive Schmidt Revolution alloy wheels that look like they came from a racing car. Along the sides, the body swells over the rear wheels in a fluid motion, leading to an unmistakably bulbous tail — round, smooth, and unlike anything else on the road. Even the mirrors were reshaped with aerodynamics in mind, echoing Colani’s signature futuristic curves.
The Ford Ka welcomes with a playful yet functional cabin, blending smooth curves, soft materials, and Colani’s signature organic design touch. (Picture from: LuigiColani in Reddit)
The rear is perhaps the most polarizing view. The taillights are tucked into those oversized hips, creating a shape that feels almost biological — like something designed by evolution, not engineers. The Colani signature sits proudly on the back, reminding anyone following that this isn’t just another city car.
Inside, the interior remained largely faithful to the regular Ford Ka, but it still carries that late-’90s playfulness. The rounded dashboard and soft, wave-like forms blend perfectly with Colani’s exterior vision. It’s minimalist yet characterful, with a leather steering wheel, an electric sunroof, and a small plaque confirming its authenticity as a Colani Edition. Every car also came with a certificate signed by Colani himself, turning what could have been a quirky concept into a collector’s dream.
The Ford Ka shows off its right-side stance with fluid curves and bold proportions, embodying Colani’s aerodynamic vision in a sleek, futuristic silhouette. (Picture from: LuigiColani in Reddit)
Beneath all the design drama sat a modest heart — a 1.2-liter four-cylinder Ford Endura-E engine producing 60 horsepower and 105 Nm of torque. Paired with a five-speed manual gearbox and front-wheel drive, it could reach 158 km/h and sprint from 0 to 100 km/h in just over 15 seconds. Not exactly lightning fast, but speed was never the point. This was about aerodynamic exploration and design artistry in motion.
What’s truly fascinating is how well the public responded. The Colani Ka wasn’t just a design study — it generated so much buzz at Essen that Ford approved a limited run of 200 units, sold exclusively through the Cologne dealership R&S Mobile. For a car this unusual, that’s a remarkable achievement.
The Ford Ka showcases its distinctive rear curves and sculpted bumper, where Colani’s aerodynamic vision turns practicality into pure design artistry. (Picture from: LuigiColani in Reddit)
Today, the Colani Ford Ka stands as a charming relic of a time when automakers dared to experiment. It’s strange, bold, and a little bit impractical, but also wonderfully creative. Luigi Colani’s influence can still be felt in the car’s curves — a rolling sculpture that challenged the very idea of what a small city car could look like. Unfortunately, no video of this car exists — only the standard Italian Ford Ka commercial is available. | WJfGQseFzp4 |
In an era where modern cars often blend into one another, the Colani Ka reminds us that automotive design can be both functional and fantastical. It may not have been everyone’s cup of tea, but it was proof that imagination still had a place in the automotive world — and that sometimes, the most memorable cars are the ones that refuse to play it safe. *** [EKA | FROM VARIOUS SOURCES | CULTOBJECTS IN X | LUIGICOLANI IN REDDIT | STORYCARS | LOT-ART | CARSTYLING.RU | AUTOBLOG.NL | AUTOMOTO.IT ]
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Heritage Recharged - When many images and rumors about a possible electric version of the Citroën 2CV surfaced on X—one of them sparked by a post from Quirky Rides asking, “The #Citroën #2CV returns: it will be electric. Would you?”—the internet lit up with excitement. For a car that once helped put France on wheels, even the hint of a return was enough to reignite nostalgic curiosity and prompt a bigger question: could this quirky icon really be making a comeback?
Rumors and images of a possible electric Citroën 2CV—sparked by a Quirky Rides post on X—quickly stirred excitement online. (Picture from: QuirkyRides in X)
For decades, the Citroën 2CVstood for freedom and simplicity, created post-war to give rural communities practical mobility. Now, nearly 80 years later, that same spirit may be returning—only this time, reimagined for the electric age. According to Citroën leadership, reviving the 2CVas an EV is no longer out of the question.
The origins of the Citroën 2CV can be traced all the way back to the 1930s, when initial concepts were developed to bring mobility to rural France. (Picture from: EFE)
Thierry Koskas, CEO of Citroën, recently acknowledged that early design work ona potential electric 2CVis underway, with a possible launch aimed for 2028—just in time for the model’s 80th anniversary. Citing the car’s global recognition, he emphasized how its legacy could be key to carving out space in today’s crowded EV market.
Citroën CEO Thierry Koskas recently confirmed that the company has started early design work on a potential electric 2CV, with a possible launch in 2028 to coincide with the model’s 80th anniversary. (Picture from: Telegraph)
However, the project has yet to receive official approval. While Citroën is experimenting with design ideas and gauging public interest, insiders say the biggest challenge isn’t engineering or demand—it’s strategic positioning. A budget-friendly 2CV EV might risk cannibalizing sales of Citroën’s own ë-C3, raising internal competition concerns.
Still, the idea gained traction for a reason. The massive success of the retro-styled Renault 5 EV—charming, affordable, and wildly popular—has proven that buyers crave electric cars with personality. Selling nearly 10,000 units in its first full month in France, the R5 even outperformed the ë-C3, offering a strong case for Citroën to tap into its heritage.
Citroën’s design chief, Pierre Leclercq, noted that while the brand isn’t ruling out retro design cues, the focus is on reviving the 2CV’s philosophy rather than merely replicating its shape—striking a balance between vintage charm and modern minimalism.(Picture from: Telegraph)
If greenlit, the new 2CV is expected to closely resemble the original, unlike the Renault 5which blends old cues with modern lines. Citroën design chief Pierre Leclercq confirmed the brand isn't turning away from retro elements, but stressed the focus is on revivingthe 2CV'soriginal philosophy—delivering honest, simple mobility—not just replicating its look. The approach would blend classic charm with minimalism.
Rendering images of a possible electric Citroën 2CV were created as artist impressions by Dejan Hristov.(Picture from: ElectricDrives)
From a technical standpoint, the plan aligns with Citroën’s cost-conscious ethos. The electric 2CVwould likely sit on Stellantis’s Smart Car platform—already used inthe ë-C3 and Fiat Grande Panda—though potentially simplified further to cut costs. This could position it between the ultra-affordable Ami and the more capable ë-C3, targeting rivals like the Dacia Spring and Leapmotor T03.
Rather than chase range records, the 2CV EVwould focus on daily practicality with a compact battery offering around 140 miles—comparable to the Dacia Spring. That keeps pricing in check while staying true to the original’s purpose: mobility for all.
An Autocar rendering offers a visual take on what a modern 2CV might look like if it closely followed the design of the original classic.(Picture from: Autocar)
And unlike the original 2CV, often stored away in winter, its electric successor could be used year-round with far less maintenance. In fact, electric conversions of vintage 2CVs already exist—and are beloved for blending classic character with modern ease. It's that very appeal Citroën is aiming to recapture.
Still, no final decision has been made. Multiple sources have confirmed that the project remains exploratory, with concerns over internal overlap and market timing still under review. Koskas has hinted that Citroën isn’t planning a retro lineup—just select models that connect emotionally and tell a meaningful story.
The facelifted Citroën Ami, inspired by the 2CV and shown at the 2024 Paris Auto Show, reflects the brand’s growing taste for retro-flavoured design.(Picture from: Autocar)
Even so, momentum is building. Designers are sketching. The public is engaged. Whether as a production model or a celebratory concept, the 2CV’s electric rebirth feels closer than it has in decades. And if it does happen, it might once again give drivers what they’ve been missing—something practical, playful, and proudly different.
Until then, all eyes remain on Citroën. Because the thought of a quiet little “tin snail” zipping through modern streets feels less like fantasy—and more like perfect timing. *** [EKA | FROM VAROUS SOURCES | QUIRKYRIDES IN X | ELECTRICCARSCHEME | AUTOCAR | ELECTRICDRIVES | EFE | TELEGRAPH ]
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Katayama’s own story, however, continued to rise. He reconciled with Nissan and went on to transform the company’s fortunes abroad, bringing the Datsun brand to the United States and overseeing the birth of icons like the Datsun 510 and the legendary 240Z. By the time of his passing at 105, his name had become synonymous with Japan’s automotive ascent. And though the Flying Feather occupies only a small corner of his legacy, it remains a symbol of postwar resilience—a reminder that progress often begins not with grandeur, but with a light, fragile idea daring to lift off the ground. *** [EKA | FROM VARIOUS SOURCES | TOYOTA AUTOMOBILE MUSEUM | HAGERTY | ROADANDTRACK ]
