A special edition Citroën BX, the 1989-1990 Palmares.
It’s named after a place that’s hard to find on a map. It might be in Buenos Aires. This example lurked in a gravelly forecort in the east of Jutland, about half an hour from Aarhus. Seeing it came as a surprise. It has been a while since I had the pleasure of slamming on the brakes and pulling up so I could hop out of the car to take some hasty photographs. The kids simply hate this kind of adult behaviour, that and visits to castles, roadside churches, ancient monuments, striking views and pretty much anything that isn’t a petrol station, shop or other opportunity for retail activity. But, now and again, I insist on making the kids wait and use some time to explore interesting things in grotty places. Leave nothing but photographs and take nothing but footprints, as the saying goes.
We’ve talked a lot about the Citroën BX here recently so I will instead consider the diminishing opportunities to see interesting cars teetering between life and death in garage backlots. The same day I zoomed through a Peugeot dealer in the countryside and saw nothing from before 2010.
The dealer in Skive also had nothing of interest (if you are interested in old cars). I’m pretty sure that the situation was different about ten years ago. When I cycled around Germany between 2006 and 2018 I would often find roadside wrecks like this Citroën, as morbidly intriguing as the vernacular architecture and pastries that are the ostensible objects of scrutiny on such wanderings.
I really ought to save my disc-space for more important memories. However, it is clogged with recollections of sightings of old friends like the Lancia Phaedra I saw along the Danube in 2009, the red Citroën 2CV spotted amongst red things along the Limes Cycleroute, or the resplendent mid-1970s Mercedes S-classes found near Zell-im-Fichtelgebirge (the Saale Radweg, which was incredibly tough: Google it).
Oddly, I can recall these memories a lot more easily than some of the other things I saw whilst cantering through the countryside. I presume other, normal people retain vivid impressions of the castles, churches and monuments they spy while immersed in tourism. I tend to recall townscapes and café interiors more than castle elevations. And old cars like the one that is today’s start-point for this discussion.
You’ll be pleased to know that the price of entry for the BX club is still very low. My brief inspections of some of Europe’s leading car re-selling portals shows that a perfectly good BX can be had for approximately one to two thousand Euros. Some fetch more – most don’t. So, if you are pining for some BX memories of your own, it really isn’t that hard to get on board.
This car is doomed. I am not sure why it’s even still there, other than perhaps laziness on the part of the garage owner. There are not very many BXs still on the roads in Denmark so I don’t imagine there’s a lot of demand for spares. In any event, I don’t imagine this white corpse has many useful parts left to offer. Labour in Denmark runs at about 80 Euros an hour so, if you can’t fix it yourself, you need a bank account bigger than Jupiter. More sensibly, snap one up that is at least still running.