A Citroën, a Dream, and 3,000 Miles of Trouble

By Alison Hartzler….

Traveling around the world in 80 days using cars, boats, and hot air balloons is a big feat. Driving across Canada and America in 9 days with a 50 year old Citroën SM? Nearly impossible. 

Our journey began over a year ago when we decided the SM would be our next car. Usually, when it comes to buying classics, we look for a project then plan to spend a few months in restoration . After some research, however, we realized that working on a project SM would be excruciating. Not only would parts be near impossible to come by, but these engines are notoriously difficult to work on. So for the first time in our car-collecting careers, we started searching for a turn-key Citroën SM. 

After months of fruitless searching on Bring a Trailer and Marketplace, we finally found our car—clear across the continent in Montreal, Canada—on none other than Citroënvie. This wasn’t just any SM, this was THE SM. Having originally been purchased in Paris, France, this was a low miles, late-spec European model without any of the detriments that marred the US spec models. Furthermore, the car had clearly been well cared for by former owner Stephane Palumbo.

Citroenvie made it incredibly easy to communicate with Stephane. Although this car seemed too good to be true, we felt quite confident in pushing forward with the sale on the site.

Many advised us to just ship it the 3,000 odd miles from Montreal to Marina Del Rey. The car only had 41,000 miles — so why tempt fate by driving it so far, risking inevitable issues or worse: catastrophe?

Of course we had considered this. Since we plan on keeping the SM for years, being as careful as possible makes sense. But then, another thought came to mind. Driving this classic across America would be a trip filled with priceless memories lasting a lifetime. We dreamt of seeing Niagara Falls, driving through the Great Plans, and climbing the Rocky Mountains. How could we pass that up? And so, that is how we found ourselves packing our bags and flying across the continent to Montreal, kicking-off a nine-day journey back to Marina Del Ray. 

As our Uber pulled up to Stephan’s home, our nerves were, understandably, charged. We had just transferred a large sum of money to a man we did not know for a car we had not seen. Our trip could have ended before it even began. 

But, as we walked into his garage, our eyes fell on the breathtaking magnificence that is the SM and our fears washed away. Not only did the champagne gold exterior match perfectly with the tobacco-brown eames like seats, but the immaculate leather and anodized dashboard embodied James Dean’s classical elegance. Armani’s favorite parts were the carbon reinforced resin wheels, making it look like a 70’s concept of what the future is to look like.

This car was truly magnificent. Excitement reared in us like stallions facing the horizon. We could not wait to climb inside and start our journey.

However, at the first turn off the driveway, we were immediately taken back by the sharpness of the wheel. That steering is tight! A quick reassessment was definitely needed. Though we were accustomed to the quirky ways of the DS, the SM clearly had a new level of impressive technology and we were more than ready to push it to the limit. Little did we know, however, that we would be reaching that limit fairly quickly.

For the most part, the first leg of our trip could be summed up as a mixing pot of unstoppable discovery.

Although Armani and I had been researching the process of crossing the Canadian/ American border, and had all the paperwork on hand, we were still a bit nervous as we drove into the station. Our nerves frayed even further after being asked to pull over and head inside.

Since we had done our research, we knew that the SM was exempt from border fees due to its age. The border officers, on the other hand, did not realise this yet. As we sat in the waiting room we could hear the back and forth arguments about what to do with us. I even heard one of them say, “According to this Google search…”

Eventually they came to the same conclusion we did and finally permitted us to continue our trip.

After 1,000 miles, nothing had gone wrong. Our naive brains convinced ourselves that we’d be the outlier—that somehow we’d found a 50-year-old classic with no issues whatsoever. Man, were we wrong.

After driving only five miles into Kearney, Nebraska the car began rumbling like a train on a roller coaster jolting up a hill preparing for the descent. But there would be no free-falling fun through these streets. After somehow chugging ourselves into a dilapidated auto-parts parking lot, hours were spent wrestling the fouled spark plugs out of a scolding hot engine while rain poured from the heavens like a curse. Who thought it would be a good idea to drive a classic French car across America?

Luckily, we were still able to see many amazing and unexpected sites. The most surprising of these being Iowa. As I had never been to the Midwest, my expectations were built on movies such as “Children of the Corn” and “Field of Dreams.” My husband, a classical, perhaps a bit pompous, British man, was even more captious. 

Therefore, we were pleasantly surprised as we drove through endless fields of rolling green hills blanketed with wildflowers and picturesque farmland. 

Nestled in these hills and hidden a few miles down pebbled country roads, was a small farm filled with baby goats, horses, bunnies, ducklings, and even a few peacocks. This was by far our favorite resting stop. After being awoken by melodic roosters, we spent the morning feeding all the animals on the farm, taking photos as they came to investigate the car. It was a picture-perfect moment — one we’ll cherish even more in hindsight, knowing what awaited us in Nebraska.

Driving across the Nebraska state line was like entering into The Twilight Zone. Our scenery transformed from picturesque farms to desolate wastelands. Even worse, the car began to shake and rumble. 

We tried ignoring the problem for as long as we could, but as we stumbled into Kearney, stalling at every red-light, it became clear things were going downhill fast. Somehow we pulled into a car parts shop in Kearney and mentally prepared for the unimaginably difficult task of diagnostics.

Thankfully, due to Armani and my experience fixing beautiful but finicky classic cars, we had a rough idea what to look for and soon found ourselves digging through the engine bay to get ourselves back in gear.

A few hours, and far too many burns later, we were on the road again. And things were… not great. But at least we had a refuge on the horizon. A friend living in Denver had offered up her garage and a place to rest our weary heads. I never thought I would compare a garage to a refuge, but my heart fluttered at the prospect of having tools in arms reach and a roof above our heads.

If we weren’t already panicking about having to drive into the Colorado mountains in a car that was starting to struggle, our situation became even more precarious once the rain started. And by rain, I mean biblical thunderstorm. Who knew those Midwestern storms could get so crazy? Well, I guess the Midwesterners would. 

Whilst white-knuckling it through the apocalyptic storm, a loud shattering noise caught our attention. However, as we were a bit distracted trying to stay alive, it was quickly dismissed.

The rain did not let up throughout the entirety of the Midwestern leg of our trip. We were still fighting our way through the storm as we entered Denver. What made this challenge immensely worse was the fact that our wipers stopped working 20 minutes from our destination. We were so blinded by the rain, it felt like driving into hyperspace but surrounded by invisible ships. Memories surrounding this stretch of our journey are hazy at best.

About five minutes remained and we were forced to admit defeat. We pulled into a covered gas station to try to fix the wipers when we were struck by the worst sight of our trip by far: the cause of that shattering noise we had heard earlier. The passenger-side glass headlamp cover had smashed, along with the remnants of our sanity. Once the initial heartache over the destruction had passed, a new worry crept in — would anything be left of the car by the time the trip was over?

Eventually we pulled into my friend’s garage like a pair of battered and bruised vagabonds, promptly drowning our sorrows with laughter and cocktails. Though it was nice to forget our troubles for an evening, the next day was spent tirelessly fixing what we believed to be a fueling issue. I cannot stress enough what a game changer it was to have not only a garage, but also tools at our fingertips. 

“To begin is half the work, let half still remain; again begin this, and thou wilt have finished.” – Marcus Aurelius

And so, after hours spent either buried in the engine bay or driving my friend’s Subaru back and forth from the auto shop, it was finally time to begin again. Although it was far from perfect, we felt fairly confident that we would at least make it to Utah. 

The trip that followed was a hodgepodge of clashing weathers, endless problems, and unbelievably beautiful sights. Through it all, Armani and I had the most amazing experience of our lives. We laughed after stalling for the billionth time, sang karaoke-style through the blistering Death Valley Heat, and fell into perfect synchronization fixing each and every problem. 

In between breakdowns and tune-ups, we drove through a snowstorm along the Eisenhower-Johnson Memorial Tunnel one day, then battled sweltering 110 degree heat across Death Valley the next.

Driving along Utah’s canyon roads during sunset hour was undoubtedly one of my favorite views.

Though it was touch-and-go for a long while, I am extremely proud to say that on June 9th at around 5:00 pm, we completed our 3,000 mile trip from Montreal, Canada to Marina Del Rey, California.

This was an unforgettable trip and though we encountered many hardships, we would have done it again in a heartbeat. Thankfully! It turned out there were just many small issues that arose on this very long drive, based entirely on us driving it and not at all on the pristine car we bought. Now that the car is safely parked at home with us, the fun begins – fixing all the damage we’ve caused.