In fact, my father once had exactly the same car.
His was silver in colour. The car had personality. The car had a look that was distinctive, masculine, inquiring and purposive. Solid too.
My brothers and I would sit on the red-leather back seat (it was a bench seat) and, as he drove his wonderful car, my father would tell us stories – and worry about things like the decline of good manners and the importance of integrity. He taught us to show an interest in, and a respect for, others. I think that he tried to make us into the kind of people who would be worthy of inheriting the Citroen.