Driving a 1935 Avions Voisin C25 Aérodyne
The 1935 Avions Voisin C25 Aérodyne.
SANTA MONICA, Calif. — To take a spin in a 1935 Avions Voisin C25 Aérodyne, first one must learn how to get into it. Of course, it has doors – with delicate nickel-plated handles – but you must tug on them with just enough pressure to flex the handles outward. This effort separates a catch from a door-frame latch; there is no mechanical locking mechanism. The door is now free to open. Inside, to coax the door back into its frame, pull on a leather strap that comes out of the door panel, rather like summoning one’s servant.
The aircraft-style cockpit is surprisingly narrow for a car that seems so grand and flowing from the outside. Five can fit inside, although four will sit pretty much shoulder to shoulder. The two front seats are pedestal style, like one might expect in a parlor. The woven cloth upholstery is adorned with a busy confettilike design that evokes modern origami.
The model I drove, on a sunny day here near the offices of the Gooding & Company auction house, was right-hand drive, which seemed a disconnect for a car from France.
The driver is confronted by an enormous steering wheel and an impressive but almost bewildering array of toggle switches, organ stop pulls, button, dials and gauges, including rudimentary turn signals, a fuel advance lever, mixture, a petrol gauge, light switches, oil temperature gauge and cowl vent. Handsome Jaeger instruments included a 160 k.p.h. speedometer with an odometer and trip meter, a tachometer and a 12-hour clock.
It was very much like the cockpit of an aircraft. Gabriel Voisin, who designed the car, was a pioneer aviator long before he began to make cars.
An elegant touch: even the ashtrays are etched Lalique crystal.
I must also mention the radios. The C25 has two. One is a shortwave. “We aren’t quite sure what band the other radio operates on,” said David Gooding, the auction house principal. “It might not even be a frequency in use anymore.”
Do they work? Who knows? I wasn’t going to be the one to break them trying to find out.
Finally, like a pilot who has gone through a checklist, we are ready to start the car: ignition switch located, transmission in neutral, starter button pressed, and, then … nothing. The Voisin has an engine with sleeve valves, not conventional poppet-type valves or a clattering valve train.
Silence is normal during the starting process. But if you’ve done everything correctly, the silence might give way to the Voisin suddenly coughing to life; the puttering exhaust is your first real clue the car is actually running. Oh, that and the smoke coming from the tailpipe. This is endemic with a sleeve-valve engine, as the engine oil constantly lubricates the sleeve movement. Everything gets good and smoky once everything inside the block is heated up.
“They say if your Voisin doesn’t smoke, there’s something wrong with it,” said Peter Mullin, a collector of Voisins.
When the manual shifter is thrust forward into first gear and the clutch pedal released, the engine purrs confidently, and this long, low-slung rolling sculpture begins its regal procession down the street, trailing blue, black or white smoke –- or some combination of the three.
The steering wheel requires some effort; this was a machine definitely made for the gentleman adventure. The effort involved in operating the clutch, brake and accelerator pedals (carved with GV, Voisin’s initials), likewise requires a rather masculine amount of input. The manual transmission needs a good yank, with about a 15-inch throw, to shift between first and second. That’s it, though; the transmission only has two forward speeds. An overdrive switch is on a stalk on the steering column.
The fastback body design allowed the trunk to be integrated into the back of the passenger compartment. To expand the luggage capacity further, the rear seatbacks could be folded forward.
If it’s a sunny day, the driver may wish to activate the Aérodyne’s sunroof. Because the car has such a geometrically precise fastback design, Voisin conceived a sliding roof panel that could be raised or lowered via a clever 2-cylinder pneumatic motor in the trunk (an old-fashioned crank was available as a backup). The car’s sweeping, arched profile included tracks at the roof edges in which the retractable top could slide. Four skylightlike portholes in the roof panel were more than mere adornments. When the top was retracted, the portholes could be aligned with the back window, helping to eliminate the rear blind spot.
There is no frame at the top of the windshield, so when the roof is retracted the sky seems to blend seamlessly into the road ahead.
The Aérodyne might look as if it could fly, but it is not a fast car. Raw speed was not the C25’s strong suit; the maximum is around 85 m.p.h. The 3-liter in-line 6-cylinder engine produces only about 90 horsepower, barely half the output some of its competitors had.
Despite a four-wheel vacuum-assisted drum braking system, stopping capability does not inspire confidence, but what 80-year-old car has great brakes?
Gabriel Voisin broke ground with his flowing Art Deco styling and his streamline designs. These would be among his most significant and lasting contributions to the auto industry, but public awareness of the value of these elements was slow in coming.
While there were cars of this era with more power – even, arguably, some more luxurious – there was probably nothing as flamboyant as the Aérodyne.
http://wheels.blogs.nytimes.com/2013/07/29/driving-a-1935-avions-voisin-c25-arodyne/?src=recg&_r=0
