Phone: 06-83250898 or email: info@toereendfriesland.nl
The year is 1935. Citroën's management has a brief: build a car for rural France. Not for the wealthy Parisian, but for the farmer who needs to take his goods to market. The requirements are legendary in their simplicity: four wheels, a roof, fifty kilos of potatoes and a basket of eggs, without breaking a single one.
Chief designer Pierre-Jules Boulanger added one requirement of his own: if I keep my hat on, I must still be able to drive comfortably. The 2CV was designed for people, not showrooms.
In 1948 the 2CV was unveiled at the Paris Motor Show. Reactions were mixed, to put it mildly. Journalists called it an "umbrella on four wheels" and "the ugliest car in the world." One photographer deliberately posed it next to a pig, as a joke. Citroën did not respond. They simply took the orders.
Because the public understood it. Not because it was beautiful, but because it did exactly what it promised. It drove. It was cheap to run. It went everywhere. And it swayed gently over every bump in the road, as if rocking you to sleep.
In the Netherlands it quickly earned a nickname that stuck: de Lelijke Eend, the Ugly Duckling. A term of abuse that was embraced. Because whoever drove a duck, drove it with pride.
"You can't go fast in a 2CV. And that's exactly the point." Unknown owner, somewhere along a Frisian dyke
Modern cars try to erase the road from your awareness. You sit in a soundproofed capsule, the dashboard beeps, a screen tells you what to do. You drive, but you don't really move.
In a 2CV it's different. Here you feel the road. Literally. The unique suspension with long springs and soft damping means the car leans slightly into every corner but stays stable. It's a sway, not an uncontrollable wobble. You roll rather than drive.
You change gear with a rod that sticks straight out of the dashboard and moves horizontally forwards and backwards. It looks odd, it feels odd at first, and then it feels like coming home. No hidden lever between the seats, just straight ahead.
In good weather the entire roof rolls back. Not a sunroof, but the whole roof. Suddenly you're in a convertible that isn't a convertible. The sun, the wind, the sound of the road: it all comes in. This is not a feature, this is a feeling.
The air-cooled flat-twin sounds like nothing else. A kind of gentle humming purr, like a large contented cat. No roaring engine, no whisper of an electric motor. Just a friendly sound that says: I'm driving, I'm here, don't worry.
There is no better place to drive a 2CV than Friesland. The quiet dyke roads, the open polders, the villages where time moves at a different pace: it fits perfectly with the tempo of the duck. You don't need to be anywhere in a hurry. You have all the time in the world.
At Toer Eend Friesland three 2CVs are waiting: Yfke, Renske and Johannes. Johannes even took part in an actual Eleven Cities Tour and is the only 2CV in the Netherlands with that story. Each duck has its own character, its own colour, its own little quirks.
Step in, roof open, and let Friesland roll past. It's the best way to understand why millions of people worldwide are so fond of this small, simple, beautifully ugly little car.