The Bohemian Budgie: May 2018

Tuesday, 1 May 2018

Citroen Type H and C-10

Here is a strange blog topic for me. I went to a giant car storage park in Rochdale on a grimy day in winter 2018, and was struck by the presence of a Citroen Type H van warmly masquerading as a fire engine amongst the army of camper vans and motorhomes. Naturally I took a few photos, did a bit of research, and a Bohemian Budgie Blog was born.

Of all the quirky workhorses to ever rumble along Europe’s backroads, the Citroën Type H van holds a special kind of charm. It’s the sort of machine that makes people smile when they see it, even if they don’t know what it is. It’s unmistakably French; practical, a little eccentric, and deeply rooted in the post-war spirit of making do with what you’ve got, but doing it with style.

Born in 1947, the Type H was Citroën’s answer to a pressing problem: France needed to get back on its feet after the devastation of World War II, and businesses across the country needed a simple, rugged, and affordable way to move goods. Citroën, already known for its engineering ingenuity, took the challenge seriously. What they came up with wasn’t just functional; it was revolutionary.

The van’s corrugated metal panels were its signature feature, a clever design trick borrowed from German wartime aircraft. The ridges added strength without piling on weight, giving the Type H the durability of a tank with the agility of a city van. Its front-wheel-drive layout, taken straight from Citroën’s Traction Avant, allowed for a low, flat load floor; easy to climb into, easy to load, and far ahead of its time. Every inch of the Type H was built with purpose, but in that distinctly Citroën way, practicality didn’t mean sacrificing personality.

Over the decades, the Type H proved itself endlessly adaptable. It hauled vegetables to market, delivered fresh baguettes, served as a mobile butcher’s shop, and even ferried the wounded as an ambulance. Craftsmen loved it. Street vendors depended on it. It became part of the scenery in villages and towns, blending into daily life until it was impossible to imagine the French countryside without one.

But to understand how Citroën arrived at something as charmingly utilitarian as the Type H, you need to look at the ideas bubbling inside the company during that same period; ideas that led not just to practical vans, but also to some of the most imaginative concept cars of the time. One of these was the Citroën C-10, a tiny teardrop of a car that couldn’t have been more different from the workaday Type H, but was born from the same restless curiosity about what cars could be.

The C-10, sometimes called the "Coccinelle" (French for ladybug), was a study in minimalism and aerodynamics. It was designed to be ultra-light and ultra-efficient, a futuristic pod for a post-war world hungry for affordable mobility. Its slippery, egg-like shape couldn’t have been further from the corrugated bulk of the Type H, but both vehicles shared a single guiding principle: make the most of what’s available, and don’t be afraid to solve problems in unconventional ways.

In a sense, the C-10 and the Type H are like two sides of the same coin. One explored efficiency in motion, while the other mastered efficiency in function. Both showed that Citroën was not just in the business of building cars and vans; they were in the business of rethinking what vehicles could be, with an eye for practicality and a flair for the unexpected.

The Type H finally bowed out in 1981, after more than three decades of faithful service. By then, the world had changed, and newer vans like the Citroën C25 were ready to take over. But the Type H never really disappeared. It lived on in memory and affection, its silhouette instantly recognizable and its spirit woven into the cultural fabric of France. Today, restored Type H vans still roam the streets, repurposed into coffee trucks, food stalls, or stylish vintage haulers. It’s a machine that was built to work; and somehow, it became a legend.