T was designed to carry a basket of eggs, unbroken, across a plowed field, but its fortunes rose and fell on the streets of Paris. On Sunday, the earnest little Citroën 2CV — the Deux Chevaux — will enjoy an annual rite of homage that is as much an outgrowth of its own charm as a creation of the event's organizers, Howie Seligmann and Ed Merryman.

Tiny but sedate, except for the headlights popping from its front fenders, the 2CV is familiar in France but causes a stir wherever it goes in the United States. Still, Mr. Seligmann, an investment consultant from Cresskill, N.J., and Mr. Merryman, a cabinetmaker from West Nyack, N.Y., were not expecting quite the attention they received when they drove their 2CV's through Manhattan one Sunday in 1999. Heads turned and horns honked; people gathered to ask questions and make comments at every stop. Mr. Seligmann and Mr. Merryman had so much fun that they decided to do it again in 2000, accompanied by a few more Citroën-driving friends, and the annual Bastille Day rally, now in its third year, was born.

On Sunday, as the French celebrate their independence day, a lengthy procession of 2CV's, other Citroëns and French-made vehicles, with some VeloSolex motorized bicycles, is expected to make its way through the city.

The star of the show is unquestionably the 2CV, whose nickname, literally "two horses," is a mostly fond reference to the modest engine power that came with its eminently parkable size. The cars, which were made from the late 1940's to 1990, actually had 9, 12, 19 or 29 horsepower, depending on the model year. But power was never what they were about.

The 2CV, like the German Volkswagen Bug and the American Model T Ford, was designed as a car for a country on the brink of becoming a mass market for automobiles, and the French responded.

The 2CV was a real workhorse, with a utilitarian feel and an affordable price. It was maneuverable in the city, and it had front-wheel drive, a surprisingly roomy interior and a roll-back canvas roof. Though it is noisy and can barely make 70 miles per hour, it was serviceable. Some models had a rear seat that could be removed for cargo space or double as a picnic or beach seat for a Parisian on an excursion. "The whole bench seat comes out," Mr. Seligmann said, "and is light enough so you can shake it and the sand comes off."

The egg basket test used by its designers helped make it comfortable as well. "For a small car, the ride is exceptionally smooth," Mr. Seligmann said.

By the 80's, the 2CV had gained a cultlike status as the favorite car of European hippies and had become an icon as recognizably French as the Eiffel Tower. But it was already on the wane, unable to reap profits or meet safety standards.

"For French people, the 2CV brings them happiness and memories," said Xavier Audran, who works for the United States government in Paris and will be in New York for the rally. "Even if now they switch to a bigger or more modern car, it reminds them of their youth." His own first car was a 2CV, and he met his wife, Anne, when they were fellow members of a 2CV club.

The Manhattan parade has grown rapidly — from the two-car trek in 1999 to dozens of vehicles last year and more than 100 expected this year — largely because of the Internet, which brings Citroën lovers together. Rémy Colinet, an engineer from Avignon, France, used the Internet to search for Citroën owners' groups near Charlotte, N.C., to which he was recently transferred by his employer, but found none close by. "But I saw that each year something was organizing in New York," he said, and through the rally announcements he made his connection to other Citroën lovers.

Mr. Colinet also likes the VeloSolex — the gas-and-oil-powered bicycle first made in 1946. Its heyday coincided with the 2CV's, and fans of one tend to be fans of both. "In France, everybody used to have at least one VeloSolex in his life," he said.

He has eight in his, and four Citroëns.