1971 Citroën SM: Maserati Dream Ride
The 1971 Citroën SM feels less like a car from the past and more like a concept vehicle that accidentally escaped into production.
From a distance, its shape is impossibly smooth—long, low, and aerodynamic in a way that still looks modern. The nose stretches forward like a bullet train, with six headlights hidden behind a single pane of glass, giving the front end a mysterious, almost predatory stare. Nothing is upright or aggressive; instead, everything flows. The body sides taper gently, the roofline melts into the rear hatch, and the back end finishes in a subtle Kamm-style tail that looks deliberate rather than decorative. It doesn’t shout for attention—it commands it quietly.
Up close, the details are pure French engineering eccentricity. The headlights swivel with the steering wheel, illuminating corners as if the car is thinking ahead of you. The suspension sits low when parked, but once started, the car rises gracefully, like it’s waking up and stretching before a long journey. This hydropneumatic system doesn’t just smooth bumps—it erases them. Speed bumps, rough pavement, freeway expansion joints—all reduced to distant suggestions beneath the wheels.
Under the hood lives the most unexpected element of all: a Maserati-designed V6. Quad cams, triple carburetors, and a willingness to rev, it brings Italian urgency to a French chassis obsessed with comfort and stability. The result isn’t brute force—it’s effortless speed. The SM doesn’t lunge forward; it gathers momentum smoothly, surging ahead with composure and confidence. At high speeds, where most cars start to feel nervous, the SM feels planted, calm, and almost serene.
Inside, the cockpit is unmistakably 1970s futurism. The dashboard curves around the driver, filled with oval gauges and satellite-style switchgear that feels more aircraft than automobile. The single-spoke steering wheel gives an unobstructed view of the instruments and reinforces the car’s obsession with driver focus. The seats are wide, deeply cushioned, and built for long-distance travel—not racing posture, but relaxed dominance of the road. Leather, brushed metal, and unconventional shapes make it feel handcrafted and experimental rather than mass-produced.
The steering is one of the most alien sensations you’ll ever experience in a classic car. Citroën’s DIRAVI system provides strong self-centering force, meaning the wheel naturally wants to return to straight ahead. At first it feels strange—almost alive—but at speed it becomes addictive, offering rock-solid stability that makes highway cruising feel effortless and controlled, even at velocities that would make other cars sweat.
The SM is not a muscle car, not a sports car in the traditional sense, and not a luxury car by conventional standards. It is a high-speed grand touring machine built with the confidence of a company willing to ignore norms entirely. It assumes the road ahead is long, fast, and demanding—and it is designed to dominate that road with intelligence rather than aggression.
Driving a 1971 Citroën SM isn’t about nostalgia. It’s about experiencing a moment in automotive history when engineers were allowed to dream without limits—and somehow, against all odds, that dream actually made it onto the street.
Stepping into a 1971 Citroën SM is like stepping into a time machine, but not to the past – it’s like glimpsing a future that never quite arrived. I've been fascinated by these cars for ages, and finally getting to experience one completely blew me away. You see photos, you read about them, but nothing truly prepares you for the real thing. First off, let's talk about that incredible side profile. I've seen these beauties in so many colors – a vibrant green really pops, but there's something so elegant about a beige or silver one too. And that dark red, wow! Each one highlights that incredible long, low, and aerodynamic design, especially with those distinctive covered rear wheels. It’s just pure art, looking like it’s gliding even when parked. The smooth, flowing bodywork isn't just for show; it hints at the car's high-speed grand touring capabilities. It’s not aggressive; it's confidently sleek, a true design marvel that still looks modern today. Then there's the famous DIRAVI steering. When you first try it, it's wild. That strong self-centering force is no joke! It feels almost alien at low speeds, like the wheel has a mind of its own, eagerly returning to center. But once you're on the open road, especially cruising at speed, it transforms the driving experience. The stability is phenomenal. You barely need to correct your line; it just tracks straight with minimal effort. It makes long journeys so much less tiring. I remember my first time taking a sharp turn – the precision, once you get used to it, is incredible. It’s not a sports car, but it corners with such confidence, you almost forget its size. It’s a truly unique sensation that makes other power steering systems feel dull by comparison. And under that sculpted hood, seeing the Maserati V6 engine with those tell-tale green hydropneumatic spheres and triple carburetors is a sight to behold. It's a mechanical symphony, and the sound is just divine – a cultured growl that hints at Italian passion beneath French composure. It gives the SM this effortless surge of power that perfectly matches its grand touring intentions. It doesn’t lunge; it gathers momentum with a serene confidence that's addictive. The feeling of the hydropneumatic suspension is something else entirely. It truly glides over bumps – it’s not just smooth, it’s almost meditative. You really feel like you’re floating. And the way it rises when you start it up? Pure theater! It’s these little details that make the SM more than just a car; it’s an experience. Every time I see that distinctive low stance, whether it's a gold or orange one, I'm reminded of Citroën's boldness. It truly was a car ahead of its time, and still feels incredibly futuristic today. It’s a car that dared to dream, and delivered a truly unique vision of luxury and performance.