COAL: 1990 Volvo 240DL Wagon – Swedish Rhapsody Part 1 (A Love Song in Three Movements)

After a three year hiatus that included a worldwide pandemic and a long-distance move across the country, I’m excited to be back with a new series of COALs.  Neither the pandemic nor my relocation from Minnesota to Washington State changed my love for automobiles – indeed, I now live in one of the world’s prime locations for vehicles long departed in other parts of the country. The Pacific Northwest (or PNW as the locals call it) is almost like a nature preserve for cars rare and old.

For my first post of the new series, I want to tell you a love story that started in the great white north of the upper Midwest over 14 years ago and continues to this day.  A tale that transcends time, space and language – I’m talking about the fact that I really, really like old Volvos.  Maybe it’s that no nonsense squared-off look. Or the connotation of Volvos with urbane sophistication that developed during the 80’s and 90’s – the proverbial college professor in tweed jacket with elbow pads car.  I have owned three in my life – a 1990 Volvo 240DL wagon, a 1996 Volvo 850R wagon and (currently) a 1994 Volvo 940 sedan.  Each had a different personality and represented some aspect of what I like about cars overall.  Let’s start with the first one – the 240.

My sons and I have debates all the time about the use of the terms “icon” and “legend”.  What makes a music artist one and not the other or both?  In the automotive world, Volvo managed – perhaps unwittingly – to create a vehicle that fits both terms.  I’m not going to duplicate the many posts that already exist on the long-running model line – except to say that any car that could hang around for nearly two decades of production with still strong demand nearly 50 years after it first hit the market has something going on.  After I sold my first automotive legend (or icon) – a 1983 Mercedes Benz 240D sedan – in the fall of 2009, I managed to fall under the spell of a locally-owned Swedish Brick in the form of a blue 1990 wagon.

The wagon had been owned by a single older woman in my leafy neighborhood in St. Paul.  I had seen it at various times out and about – and it was pristine.  One day, I saw a flyer on the community bulletin board in the local coffee shop advertising the for sale for $2500.  This gave me the chance to see the car up close and take it for a spin.

Since I love wagons (see my 2000 Passat wagon post here), this car was kind of a Holy Grail.  Solid, yet charming.  Spacious, yet easy to maneuver.  Vintage, yet practical. Millions have used Volvo wagons for all sorts of purposes and, with two grade-school aged sons and their friends, I could use the funky, rear-facing third row seat that attached to the floor in the cargo area to ferry them around.  Once I started the car and heard that agricultural grumble from the famous Volvo redblock 2.3 liter four-cylinder, I was hooked.

Now, for all of the claims of longevity, the 240 is not without its quirks.  Like the fuse panel located in the front driver door pillar under the dashboard where it can easily get damp.  The prior owner had a 10 pack of different fuse sizes and I definitely used them when something weird happened.  The wiring harness that degraded due to movement from the rear hatch hinge.  The overdrive button that mysteriously activated and caused the car to rev high on the freeway (with a telltale up arrow on the dashboard).  The a/c that worked – or not.  The seat heater that looked liked it was on but didn’t warm up.  None of these were fatal – rather, they added to the charm of the car.

I got compliments everywhere I went with my 240 wagon.  People offered to buy it.  Told me stories of how so and so got hit and walked away fine due to the solid body structure.  The solid Swede – while never the fastest or best handling car – seemed to reflect the values of my upper-middle class Nordic neighbors.  (They weren’t all Nordic, but it was Minnesota after all.). A solid no no-nonsense car for folks who didn’t like to show off.

Sadly, the wagon’s solid body structure was put to the test the next summer when a local college student in a Dodge Durango ran a stop sign and slammed into the front passenger side.  The car wasn’t driveable and got towed to a local body shop.  The insurance company couldn’t find a lot of comparable sales and totaled the car, sending me a check for $2100.  I was in mourning. This was the second car I owned to meet an untimely demise.  But I was smitten by the Volvo wagon bug and, later that summer, resumed my search for another example.  What came next was, for Volvo, something completely different.