Perfectly AbnormalFelix Russell-SawYou'd never guess from this photo that the author's favorite car is a Porsche 997 GT3 RS 4.0.Felix Russell-SawI do not see myself as weird. Not in a cool, disarming, or intriguing way, at least. In fact, I often wish I could have more esoteric tastes, that my brain weren't so slavishly devoted to cars that operate in a narrow, highly focused window. I adore cars that forgo niceties for response, that amplify feedback to provide perfect clarity right at the edge of grip. I want to live in those rare moments, and I'm happy to sacrifice the mundane—refinement, sound systems, adjustable backrests, rear seats, you know the stuff—for real dynamic accuracy and excitement. Those fleeting moments of joy instantly outweigh the pain. A 12-hour journey to the Nürburgring without air conditioning on a blazing summer day? Forgotten as soon as the noisy, ride-ruining semislick tires bite into the first turn.This story originally appeared in Volume 35 of Road & Track.Hearst OwnedAnd yet, I own a Citroën DS. To be totally accurate, it's a Citroën D Super that was delivered to Athens, Greece, in 1972. The D Super is a less expensive, more utilitarian version of the DS, with a slightly less plush interior and without the high-pressure hydraulic brakes. Still, it remains a thing of absolute beauty and elegance, a paragon of alternative, almost surreal thinking. Everything about it is, I suppose, weird. But it's also born of an inspired Gallic logic that even an Englishman can only admire and celebrate. One thing is indisputable, though: Citroën's effortlessly regal Déesse is about as far away from a Porsche RS, a Ferrari Speciale, or a McLaren LT as you can get. So, how did I end up here?(left) As the household's primary car, the D Super features in many a family photo. (right) The Bovingdons' DS23 on a camping trip to France in the early Eighties.Courtesy of Jethro BovingdonThe die was cast back in 1973, when Leslie Bovingdon, my grandfather, walked into S.E. Thomas & Co., located at 258/264 Goldhawk Road in Shepherd's Bush, London. Already a serial DS owner, he bought the dealership's SM floor model on the spot. It was finished in Blanc Meije and had a green-velour interior, and his interest in it was purely from a design perspective. As a fellow architect, he appreciated Robert Opron's aerodynamic wonder. As a car enthusiast? Well, he wasn't one. At all. His son, Roger (my father), on the other hand, loved cars. And on those rare evenings when his dad would let him borrow the SM, it blew his twentysomething mind. Roger vowed to own an SM one day. And he would. But not before a couple of examples of the much more attainable DS.AdvertisementAdvertisementThe first was also Blanc Meije. A four-speed manual D Super, bought as a replacement for a very ordinary Ford Escort, unbeknownst to my heavily pregnant mother. She burst into tears when she attempted to drive it, but the love grew over time. It was this car that carried me home from Amersham Hospital in Buckinghamshire when I was just 24 hours old. A gorgeous fuel-injected DS23 Pallas in Bleu d'Orient followed. Dad polished it incessantly and won all sorts of awards at various shows, but it was also our everyday driver. Mum went shopping in it. It took us to France on a camping trip. It was just "the D," the sixth member of our immediate family.Now more than ever, the DS looks like it comes from an alternate reality.Felix Russell-SawSo Citroën has always been the cornerstone of my own love of cars. Passed down from Dad, shared with my brothers, and, I guess, completely at odds with my own sensibilities, which developed much later as I started to read car magazines and eventually wrote for them. For anyone not accustomed to Citroën life, the DS is a strange, exotic beast. For me, it feels like home.Hearst OwnedI bought my D Super in Athens on May 29, 2015. I drove it onto on Grimaldi Lines' Olympia ferry at 5:30 p.m. in Patras, Greece, and arrived in Brindisi, Italy, at 8:30 a.m. the following day, a perfect morning. Shortly afterward, I picked up my dad and brothers at the airport. We headed northwest, eating in Rimini and then staying in Maranello on night one, traveling over the Gotthard Pass on day two, and arriving home in England on the third day. Over 1438 miles, the D didn't miss a beat.Not just a nostalgic toy, the author's D Super sees regular action for errands and school runs.Felix Russell-SawThat tale of surprising dependability doesn't really capture the majesty of the DS, though. It truly is the automobile reimagined from the ground up. Aside from the wheezy iron-block inline-four engine, it feels like the product of an alien culture. Or, perhaps more accurately, a parallel universe. Everything about the DS is like the cars we know and love but not quite the same.AdvertisementAdvertisementThis uncanny quality has a strange effect. It puts Citroën's sedan outside normal time and space. Remember, this was always intended as a mass-market machine, and more than 1.4 million were produced from 1955 to '75. It's an old car but somehow modern too. Futuristic, even. The steering is light and fast, even if it is directed by a huge single-spoke steering wheel. The brakes are responsive, and the car squats at the rear under heavy application to keep level—a bit like the Taycan and the Panamera E-Hybrid do, courtesy of Porsche's recently introduced and much-heralded Active Ride. The headlights turn to illuminate the road ahead. And the hydropneumatic suspension is otherworldly.Ahead of its time, yes, but still conventional when it comes to manually adjusted side mirrors.Felix Russell-SawNow, I don't want to blindly repeat too many of the clichés. Let's deal with the ride. There are modern cars that are better at managing high-frequency bumps and choppy, broken tarmac. Even so, the D is supremely adept in all conditions, and its capabilities over big, singular obstacles remain unmatched. You can hit a series of speed bumps at undiminished velocity and literally not feel them. In fact, the faster you go, the more magical the Citroën's built-in resurfacing technology appears to be.Using nitrogen gas as the "spring" and mineral hydraulic fluid as the damper within those distinctive green suspension spheres remains a fascinating and effective technology, one that requires very little in the way of maintenance despite the myth of incredible complication. That suspension, coupled with deeply cushioned seats and a torquey (if a little harsh) engine, gives the DS a unique gait: unhurried, unflappable, and yet extremely accurate, thanks to the responsive steering and immediate brake bite.The Bovingdon boys taking stock of the SM on the day their father bought it. The suspension is raised to make sure everything was working properly.Courtesy of Jethro BovingdonThe key to experiencing the DS at its majestic peak is simply to drive better. Slow your hands and feet, and the suspension settles beautifully into turns. Beyond the first few jumpy reactions to brakes and steering, you discover honey-smooth consistency and a tangible sense of engineering depth and clarity. A car that can feel slightly foreign at first soon transforms into the rational product of an enlightened, alternative logic.AdvertisementAdvertisementAnd the SM? Dad finally bought his in 1997 and passed it on to me and my brothers last year. A fever dream of DS comfort, bold architecture, hard-edged Maserati V-6, and even more extreme hydraulic assistance, the SM is, on paper, about as weird as it gets. Would you believe me if I said it's completely intuitive and deeply satisfying? Midcentury Citroën was a collective thought experiment. The company's people saw a different reality from the rest of us. The DS and the SM are manifestations of that vision and will forever be glorious anomalies. As a driving experience, though, they make perfect sense. Weird, right?Felix Russell-SawA car-lover's community for ultimate access & unrivaled experiences.JOIN NOW Hearst OwnedYou Might Also LikeIf You Can Only Own One Car, Make It One of TheseThese Are the Most Popular Cars by State