Peugeot 504

Late French-built Pejo 504

Once upon a time, in 1968, somewhere in the land where people casually devour snails by the hundreds for a midday snack, the Peugeot—today one of the least respected carmakers on the planet, rivaled only by Tesla and now a limb of some monstrous Dutch conglomerate—produced something that looked modest, bland, and even by the standards of its day, elegantly dull. And yet, the most important thing is its name: 504. It is the automotive equivalent of a giant cockroach or a mule—repulsive to the wealthy, scorned by the upper classes, but a hero to many. And believe it or not, despite being a Peugeot, it's a hero.

Development

Peugeot 404 was an extraordanary car, but quite old looking...

Development began in the mid-1960s, at a time when Peugeot—still a brand of rustic logic and mechanical common sense—finally realized that its beloved midsize family car, the 404 (produced since 1959), while essentially a Swiss army knife on wheels capable of circumnavigating the globe twenty times, fixable with a piece of wire, and able to haul twenty people to a picnic without complaint, was beginning to look like something out of a Cold War postcard. Its tailfins, a lingering tribute to 1950s America courtesy of the ever-flashy Pininfarina, were starting to seem a bit... dated.

Even the tanned puppet regimes of postcolonial Africa were demanding something a little more modern-looking—though just as indestructible. So once again, Pininfarina was brought in to draw the box, and Peugeot’s own team of practical sorcerers got to work on the inside. The result? A miracle of understated design: angular lines, a tasteful interior, front lights shaped like trapezoids (for reasons no one ever quite explained), and a slightly awkward sloped rear end that together formed what would soon become a new people’s hero—the 504.

Launched in September 1968, the car arrived just in time to witness a France still reeling from that year’s massive strikes and civil unrest. Ironically, while the country itself was having a prolonged existential crisis, the 504 emerged cool, collected, and unbothered. Unlike the French economy, the 504 didn’t flinch. It didn’t strike. It didn’t demand social reform. It just worked—and it kept on working, long after the barricades were dismantled.

Lifespan

504 Coupé. Sleek (looks better than BMW)

When full production of the Peugeot 504 kicked off in late 1968, nobody—not even Peugeot’s own overworked engineers—could have guessed that this minimalist, mechanically ascetic hunk of French steel would go on to enjoy a production run longer than many monarchies. But it did. Because the 504 wasn’t just a car—it was an appliance of survival.

504 Familiale: Most overengineered station wagon of its time

By 1970, the 504 lineup was already evolving, with the arrival of the 504 Ti, which, despite being just as indestructible as the standard version, came with fuel injection—a dark sorcery at the time, typically found only in overengineered German machines and laboratory test rigs. And yet Peugeot, that awkward French uncle of the automotive world, had already been dabbling in this black magic since 1965. Quietly. Confidently. As if they knew the rest of the world was still catching up.

Soon came the extended lineup. There was the painfully elegant coupé and cabriolet, which were so tasteful they looked like something a 1970s Bond villain might use for grocery runs. And then, the Familliale—a station wagon that completely ignored how station wagons are usually made. Instead of stretching the boot like an American would, Peugeot cut the car behind the front doors, slapped on a taller roof, and for reasons known only to some grumpy engineer in Sochaux, extended the wheelbase by 15 centimeters. The result was a rolling chapel of practicality—utterly unrelated to the sedan, but built with the same bomb-proof attitude.

And then it spread. Production moved out of France like a colonial echo. Factories popped up in Nigeria, Kenya, Argentina, China. The car became globalized in the truest, least glamorous sense: not as a symbol of prestige, but as a tool of necessity. In 1983, France finally pulled the plug. But the 504 wasn’t done. It couldn’t be killed off that easily.

These things are beasts...

Instead, it thrived where others perished: in places where roads are optional, fuel is adulterated, and mechanics are armed only with a hammer and a prayer. It became available only in sedan, wagon, and eventually pickup form—essentially turning into an agricultural implement with headlights.

Production limped on until 2006, ending not in Paris, but in Kenya, where the final 504 rolled off the line like a stubborn ghost refusing to pass on.

And here’s the twist: they’re still running. Today, in places where heat, dust, and utter neglect murder modern vehicles within months, the 504 continues to crawl along like a diesel-powered zombie, consuming bad fuel, terrible roads, and whole families with the same quiet resignation.

Even the so-called “legendary” Toyota Hilux, plastic idol worshipped by Western car journalists, has proven itself fragile in comparison. Toyota may have a reputation for reliability—but in Africa, that reputation melts in the sun, cracks on the roads, and dies at the hands of neglect. Meanwhile, the 504 just keeps going, usually on three functioning cylinders, without oil, and with a door held shut by twine.

United States

1980 Peugeot 504 Diesel infected by US Road safety restrictions..

The United States: land of freedom, excess, and cars the size of aircraft carriers. Today, barely anyone in America remembers Peugeot—and if they do, it’s probably thanks to Top Gear (the British one; the American version is barely watchable) as the punchline to a joke about flaky French metal. But the older generation? They remember. They remember the 504. Not as a joke, but as a reliability nuke dropped into the soft underbelly of Detroit iron.

In 1970, Peugeot launched its full-on invasion of the U.S.—a second French expedition, this time not with muskets and powdered wigs, but with pragmatic steel and long-travel suspension. And unlike most European brands that simply tossed their cars across the Atlantic and hoped for the best, Peugeot actually tried. The 504s shipped to America were pre-adapted at the Sochaux factory to meet U.S. regulations. That meant—tragically—they were fitted with four sealed-beam headlights awkwardly crammed into a trapezoidal housing, ruining the clean European front fascia like a botched nose job.

Then came 1974. Thanks to new crash regulations, Peugeot was forced to raise the ride height and bolt on massive plastic battering rams in place of the original chrome bumpers, lest some wandering hippie lose their legs in a parking lot collision. Aesthetically, it was catastrophic. Functionally? Irrelevant. Because somehow, they still loved it.

American buyers—at least the rare few who dared wander off the Big Three’s plantation—actually embraced the 504. Journalists praised its no-nonsense engineering, frugal fuel consumption, and the kind of rugged durability normally associated with agricultural equipment. Compared to the bloated Impalas, LTDs, and Gran Torinos of the day, the 504 was one-third the size but three times as comfortable. Because while Americans made cars with horsepower and air conditioning, the French made cars with suspension. And shockingly, that mattered.

Until French production ended in 1983, the 504 enjoyed a modest but respectable run in the U.S. It never sold in massive numbers, but it carved out a niche—among professors, architects, slightly oddball intellectuals, and people who liked the idea of driving a European car that didn’t explode if you skipped one oil change.

The 504 was the cockroach among dinosaurs. It didn't need to be loud or flashy. It just needed to outlive the others, and it usually did.

Special variants

Diesel

Least used 504 Diesel in Africa

The diesel-powered Peugeot 504 wasn’t built to go fast. It wasn’t built to thrill. It was built to exist—relentlessly, ungracefully, and far past the point where most of its competition had already rotted into powder. While other manufacturers were experimenting with performance, innovation, or at the very least basic dignity, Peugeot quietly rolled out diesel versions of the 504 that could best be described as rolling agricultural implements.

Starting one was like waking a bear from hibernation—long, grumpy, and full of smoke. The early diesels wheezed out barely 50 horsepower, producing more vibration than motion, and made sounds that suggested internal suffering. But they would run. On anything. Rotten diesel. Used cooking oil. Something a goat peed in. The fuel quality didn’t matter. Maintenance didn’t matter. The car didn’t care. It simply kept going.

And in Africa, it found its true calling. There, a Peugeot 504 Diesel isn’t just a taxi—it’s public infrastructure. Fifteen people? Standard. Five goats? Routine. An angry sheep? Strapped to the roof. Ten chickens? On someone’s lap. And somehow, through heat, dust, corruption, axle-deep potholes and engine oil that hadn’t been changed since the Reagan administration, the 504 just droned forward—smoking, rattling, and eternally unbothered.

Meanwhile, Japanese rivals like the Toyota Corolla or Hilux, praised by the West as models of reliability, showed up, ran for five years, and expired from cultural shock. They weren’t built for that kind of abuse. The Peugeot was. It thrived in abuse. It was abuse.

Dangel

504 Dangel. That car kicks ass

The Dangel 504 was the natural conclusion of a dangerous question: What if this thing also conquered terrain? Enter Dangel, Peugeot’s off-road enablers, who jacked up the suspension, installed 4x4 hardware, and unleashed onto the world what looked like an off-road estate car but behaved like a half-track with a union card.

Most 4x4s of the era had some pretense of comfort or style. The Dangel 504 did not. It was for people who needed to cross rivers, deliver medicine to a rebel-held village, or drive 300 kilometers across dried lava with one functioning gear. It was the car you bought when even a Land Cruiser gave up. And the Land Cruiser often did—its electronics hated the heat, its interior rattled apart, and parts were priced like aircraft spares. The Dangel? It had no electronics to fry. You could fix it with a brick and a borrowed wrench. Most often, people did.

It was a workhorse in a world where horses had already died.

Rally

Yep. Also kicked ass

In normal rallying, the 504 was too civilised, too soft in the knees, and too unwilling to dance. But throw it into a 6,000-kilometre continental death march like the Safari Rally, and it became clear that Peugeot hadn’t built a race car. They’d built a pestilence-grade endurance beast.

While the Lancias and Opels crumpled in the heat, burst their suspensions, or burst into flames, the 504 cruised through the carnage like a Parisian undertaker—dry, steady, and faintly disgusted. It didn’t need to be quick. It just needed to stay alive longer than the others, and it did. Consistently.

Even when leaking everything except hope, the 504 would finish. It was slower, older, and looked like it hadn’t slept in weeks—but it was still moving when the sleek turbocharged rivals were coughing out steam and being helicoptered home in disgrace.

The 504 was never the fastest. It was simply the last one standing. And in Africa, in rallies, in life—that’s the only thing that matters.

Counterparts

Peugeot 604

Peugeot 604: 504, but refined

The Peugeot 604 is what happens when the rugged, no-nonsense 504 gets handed a tie, a glass of wine, and told to behave at a diplomatic reception. Under the polished sheet metal and Pininfarina lines (yet again), it’s still a 504 at heart—less tough, maybe, but still dependable, still rational, still built by people who knew that comfort doesn’t mean fragility.

It was meant to compete with the Mercedes S-Class, and while it never quite managed to intimidate the Germans, it did carve out a niche: a luxury car that didn’t forget where it came from. A 504 with manners. A tuxedo over work boots.

Yep, that's best counterpart of 504

Cockroach

The 504 is like the cockroach of the automotive world—not because it’s dirty or unwelcome, but because it is everywhere, uninvited, and completely unkillable. You will find it in deserts, mountains, jungles, on roads, off roads, and places where roads used to be. You will find it in cities, villages, and post-apocalyptic wastelands. It will be there. Running. Somehow.

Rich people hate it. American suburbanites flinch at the sight of it (at least modern). Porsche owners scoff. But while their shiny toys die at the first whiff of adversity, the 504 keeps crawling forward. It doesn’t want praise. It doesn’t ask for service. It exists. Like a biological constant.

You don’t own a 504—you coexist with it. Until death. Yours, not the car’s.

Mule

Comparing the 504 to other cars misses the point. The correct comparison is a mule—an actual, biological, slightly resentful working animal. Not beautiful, not fast, not glamorous—but ceaselessly capable.

A mule doesn’t complain. It just carries. It climbs mountains. It pulls loads. It survives heat, cold, violence, and neglect. It doesn’t care if it’s overloaded or mistreated—it endures. It’s a creature of utility, not pride.

So is the 504. It is not here to impress. It is here to perform, again and again, until the job is done—or the sun dies out. Comparing it to a car is like comparing a windmill to a ceiling fan. They spin, yes. But one feeds nations.

Specs & Comparisons (504 L Diesel - Berlina)

Unkillable motherfucker

Specs

Engine:

• 2.1L naturally aspirated inline-4 diesel (2112 cm³)
• Power: 49 hp
• Torque: 108 Nm

A slow, rhythmic death-rattle that somehow lasts forever. There is no joy, no thrill, no urgency—only the eternal groan of resistance. But that’s the point. This is a machine built for warzones and economic collapse, not for traffic lights. It will start on rotten diesel filtered through a sock. It will run with no oil, a cracked head, and a family of rats nesting on the intake manifold. It will go on, and on, and on............

Performance:

• 0–100 km/h: 26 seconds
• Top speed: 130 km/h (if chased by death and pushed by the wind)

These aren’t numbers. They’re irrelevant. Because you will arrive. Maybe not today. Maybe not this month. But you’ll arrive long after the fast cars have died in a ditch, their fuel pumps crying and their owners screaming into Bluetooth headsets.

The 504 doesn’t care how fast it is. It only cares that it is still moving, long after your patience, your civilization, and your government have collapsed.

Transmission:

• 4-speed manual

Shifting is approximate. Vague. More an art than a science. But the linkage will outlive you. Clutch cables snap? Shift without one. Syncros gone? Double-clutch. It is not smooth. It is not refined. But it is eternally functional.

Suspension:

• Front: MacPherson struts
• Rear: Live axle on coils

Tuned for a world without asphalt. For post-roads. It ignores potholes, shrugs off ruts, and regards axle-snapping craters as mild inconveniences. This suspension could cradle a casket through a warzone without spilling the flowers. It doesn’t handle corners. It endures geography.

Brakes:

• Front discs, rear drums.

They function. That’s it. They are not progressive. They are not ventilated. They will not save you. But the car is too slow to hurt anyone anyway, including you.

Fuel Economy:

• ~7.5L/100km

But you’ll never know for sure, because it will run on anything: fryer grease, paint thinner, goat piss. Fuel quality is a suggestion, not a requirement. The tank is less a fuel system than a digestive tract for industrial waste.

Weight:

• 1315 kg: Not because of features. Because iron weighs a lot. And this thing is made of real metal, not recycled yogurt lids.

Comparison

Parameter	Peugeot 504 Diesel	African Cockroach	Sabrina Carpenter	Dua Lipa	Lada 2107	Jack Doherty	Concrete Brick	Andrew Tate	Tesla Cybertruck	Taylor Swift	SpongeBob SquarePants	Peter Griffin
Type	Post-colonial mechamule disguised as a car	Biological terror with apocalyptic resilience	Pop hologram with a throat	Balkan-techno humanoid with vertebral control	Soviet coffin with headlights	Content-based carbon hazard	Pure cranial consequence	Weaponized ego reactor	Chrome calamity with AI marketing	Algorithmic witchcraft	Sponge-based manic psychotrope	Suburban entropy mammal
Origin	France (1970s) → Sahel	Everywhere nightmares live	Disney LA, glass lab	London, Albania, Spotify core	USSR’s vodka hangover ending by bastardation of FIAT 124	Vine, steroids, insurance scam	Earth, despair, wall	Luton → Bucharest pipeline	Elon’s ego x stainless	PA → fame vortex	Pacific trench + meth animation	Rhode Island + Fox News fever
Passenger Capacity	5 humans, 3 goats, 2 rebels	1–3 roaches, 1 trauma orb	1 clutch bag + 3 insecurities	1 leg, 2 lawyers, 1 Bosnian uncle	4 drunk men, 1 destiny	1 ego, 2 minions	0. Can only be thrown.	0 morals, 3 Bugattis	6 + shattered dreams	All your regrets	Fits in a snail, contains 40 personalities	Family of 5, IQ of 0.7
Top Speed (True)	81 mph (during freefall)	3 mph, endless terror	0 mph alone, 60 mph when ashamed	11 mph in boots	55 mph + rust bonus	20 mph or 2 felonies	Terminal	100 tweets/sec	130 mph (in theory)	Speed of sorrow	Physically fast, metaphysically unhinged	Falls over own shadow
Structural Durability	Outlives war, time, God	Acid-proof, nuclear cozy	Fractures on impact of TikTok	Dancer ligaments, Balkan bones	Rusts into oblivion	Snaps under IRS audit	Only vulnerable to gravity	Crumbles if doubted	Dents emotionally	Emotionally resilient	Regenerates. Immortal under capitalism.	Bounces. Sues wall for it
Hammer to the Occiput	Hammer cracks, Peugeot drives on	Hammer bounces, roach flexes	Skull fracture, brain swelling, unconsciousness	Atlanto-occipital dislocation, spinal shock, PR meltdown	Hammer embeds, Lada coughs	Hammer livestreamed, title in all caps	Hammer = event	Yells “Matrix!” while filming injury	Hammer shatters. Truck gets update.	Fans cry in harmony	Explodes, reforms. Laughs hysterically.	He operates the hammer while yelling "I hate Ni-"
Weaponization Potential	Civil war veteran	Fear-based dispersal agent	PR frag grenade	Gluteal smartbomb	Vehicle of youth disillusion	Riot catalyst	Ancient war tool	Redpill clusterbomb	Techno-shield	Emotion minefield	Kinetic chaos elemental	Wields hammer of stupidity
Collapse Survival	Becomes king’s APC	Becomes overlord of cockroach nation	Drowns in perfume and shame	Survives as Balkan cyborg	Still drinks, still moves	Dies during livestream	Used as barter	Leads testosterone sect	Still bought	Composes mourning anthem	Laughs forever	Eats the concept of collapse
Sexual Market Value	None but romanticized	None unless broken	High for chronically online	Extreme + geopolitical	Fetishized by post-Soviets	Conditional on Lambo	Weaponizable in trauma rituals	Weaponized misogyny	Steel = sterile	Divine to some	Sponge, no boundaries	Depends on beer & T-shirt fit
Therapy Compatibility	Doesn’t need it	Eats therapists	Needs it, avoids it, sings it	Dance = trauma exorcism	No known cure	Turns therapy into vlog	Healing hazard	Kills therapy on entry	Firmware only	Turns it into trilogy	Was therapy, then untherapy	Therapist leaves session screaming
Fire Resistance	Laughs in flames	Fireproof by God	Melts down, cancels show	Fire hazard by wardrobe	Paint peels, vodka protects	Ignites own ego	Survives Pompeii	Converts flames into followers	Thermal anomaly	Folkloric combustion	Burns, reforms, mocks fire	Starts fire by opening fridge
Cultural Legacy	Warlord icon	Apocalypse mascot	Sad-girl brand pillar	Balkan club goddess	Ironic relic	YouTube Babylonian	Tool of memory	Meme tyrant	Silicon Sisyphus	Goddess or ghost	Meme-god, Gen Z godparent	20 seasons of functional brain rot
Market Value (Actual)	$200 + bullets	None, infinite fear value	$8M	$35M	$400 or your shame	$10M of chaos	$2.50 + regrets	Ego-backed crypto	$70K + $50K shame	$1B of melody mind control	$0 net; $∞ influence	$60 in gas station merch
Ability to Be Sexually Harassed (µZeglers)	12 µZ	0.1 µZ	480 µZ	520 µZ	88 µZ	340 µZ	0 µZ	120 µZ	280 µZ	800 µZ	300 µZ (fishnet edition)	10,000 µZ in Quahog alone
Resistance to Brainrot (TPD)	90 TPD	Infinite	20 TPD	35 TPD	200 TPD	0 TPD	0	Converts to content	10 TPD	500 TPD	Negative TPD. Causes chain reaction	Is the origin of most
Parasocial Toxicity (PPM)	22 PPM	85 PPM	3,100 PPM	2,800 PPM	140 PPM	6,500 PPM	0	9,000 PPM	4,500 PPM	1,000,000 PPM	9,000 PPM in meme form	Off the charts since 2005
Can Mount AR-15?	Yes	No	No	No	Yes	Yes, poorly	Can be thrown near one	Yes	Not legally	No, fans are weapons	Uses jellyfish rifle	Accidentally mounts cat
Legal Immunity (Kardashian Shield Units)	1.1 KSU	0 KSU	1.7 KSU	1.5 KSU	0.5 KSU	2.0 KSU	N/A	1.9 KSU	3.2 KSU	5.0 KSU	0.3 KSU, lives in pineapple	-3.2 KSU, weaponized lawsuit magnet

See also

• Cockroach
• Brick
• France
• Peugeot
• Weapons of Mass Destruction