My Newly Acquired 1967 Volvo 1800S – “Is That One Of Those James Bond Cars?”

Photo of a red 1967 Volvo 1800 S coupe parked on a country road

I am on the whole an indecisive man, but put me in front of an internet auction with a car I’ve never seen, and I will never waver. That’s how I ended up with a 1967 Volvo 1800S that has some needs, some of which have yet to be met, and others that may never be.

In those giddy moments after reading the portentous words, “You won!” a few things happen.

First, if she is not at home, I text my lovely bride something resembling the following: “Do you know any Swedish?” Then, I call my dad, who in some ways lives vicariously through my nonsense, to tell him what I’ve done, to which he replies with the following statement: “Is it one of those humpback Volvos?” No, Dad, it is not. Upon sending him a picture, he replies by saying the following: “That looks like one of those James Bond cars.” No, Dad, it is not. I thought it was just my dad being my dad, but it turns out that it might be a generational thing.

Old color photo of Roger Moore leaning against a white Volvo 1800S

Roger Moore was The Saint on TV from 1962 to 1969, years before he became James Bond.

When the car showed up on the trailer in front of my house, my very nice neighbors, both of whom are roughly my dad’s age, said, “That looks like something James Bond would drive!” I couldn’t help laughing. Of course, we all know the mix-up by now; Roger Moore, who eventually was James Bond in the films, drove an 1800 in The Saint television series. Looking for a star car and being turned down flat by Jaguar, producers made a call to Volvo and found that the Swedish concern was more than happy to play along, and supported the show with several 1800s throughout the ’60s. Roger Moore also got his own 1800s to use as personal cars.

Press shot of an early red Volvo P1800

The early P1800. Photo credit: Volvo Car USA

Many Curbside Classic readers probably also know the background of the P1800 and its successors. Volvo, seeking a replacement for its ill-fated P1900 “sports” car, shopped around for an Italian designer to pen them a new sports coupe. Consultant Helmer Petterson’s son Pelle had recently graduated with a degree in industrial design and had started working at Pietro Frua in Italy. Mr. Petterson surreptitiously slipped one of Pelle’s designs in the mix with four others, and it was unanimously chosen as the next sporty Volvo. Upon discovering the ruse, Volvo chief Gunnar Engellau didn’t find it so funny and claimed that Pelle would never be given credit for the final design, but the truth came out eventually.

Jensen in England was in charge of assembling the cars for the first few model years, before dubious construction quality and some misunderstandings among the involved parties brought production back to the Lundby factory in Sweden in 1963. The car was renamed P1800S (the “S” standing for “Sweden”) before simply being christened 1800S shortly afterward. By the way, bodies were built by Pressed Steel in Scotland from the beginning of production all the way through 1968 or 1969, depending on whom you believe, which means that my ’67 model got its start in the UK before being shipped to Sweden to be shipped to America.

Another photo of the red Volvo 1800S on a tree-lined street

So, why an 1800S, when I’ve never owned a foreign car in all of my years? It’s simple: I just like them. The 1800 was on my list of a handful of cars I wanted to add to the collection before I check out, and as usual, I found a mediocre example, paid about half the going rate for a decent driver, and will have spent more than the going rate for a decent driver by the time I can trust it to be a decent driver.

The others on the list? A ’66 Toronado, a ’40 or ’41 Lincoln Continental, a ’55 Coupe De Ville (but it won’t fit in the garage), and a Studebaker GT Hawk.

Interior of the 1967 Volvo 1800S coupe, with black seats and red carpeting plus a leather-wrapped steering wheel

I’m fairly forthright about my stupidity, so I don’t mind telling you that I paid $8,400 for this car and had to have it shipped to my house from Tennessee. Good drivers (not show cars) have been selling for uncomfortably close to twenty grand, so I felt I did all right, even though the car had some obvious flaws. The car has clearly had some poor rust repair (the body tech really liked fiberglass). Mine has had some substandard work in all the spots you’d expect on an 1800: the lower fenders, rockers, quarter panels in front of the wheelwells, and the lower wheelwells, front and rear. By Michigan standards, it’s nothing shocking at all; in fact, the subframes, crossmembers, and suspension mounting points are completely solid. It could use front floorpans, but it’s not a “right now” necessity. That sounds bad, but the floors are a couple days’ work for me. The car looks fine unless you really get up next to it (and look down low, like really low).

But it’s going to need a lot of work to be a reliable driver (notice the drip on the driver’s floor mat — it’s waiting for a clutch master cylinder as I write this).

Volvo B18 engine under the hood of the Volvo 1800S

Yes, as usual, I’ve bought a poor, neglected old car that’s been passed from owner to owner and has traveled America over the last decade-and-a-half. In 2012, it was in Washington State. In 2015, it was in Studio City, California. In 2018, it was in Dallas, Texas. In 2025, it was in Tennessee. And now it’s in Michigan. I have an inquiry out to Volvo Historical for a little background, so it will be interesting to know where else it’s been.

What are the car’s immediate needs? Under the hood, it’s had a variety of issues that I’ve been working through (and will still take some more time). More to come in a future installment. I immediately replaced the tires and the dead battery.

The Volvo 1800S in the garage with the passenger door open

I did have to break into my own car with a coat hanger. After a recent vacation, I went to pick up the Volvo in storage and snapped the key off in the driver’s door. The passenger lock already didn’t work, so I had to improvise (by the way, I have a great deal of mechanical sympathy…I have no idea how that key broke). I have already replaced the lock cylinders with a set straight from Sweden.

The 1967 Volvo 1800S in the garage next to a bicycle and a blue 1950s Buick

Although the Volvo’s long list of to-dos has been demoralizing but not unexpected, there’s a lot to love about the Volvo. It’s the smallest thing I own at about 173 inches long, so it leaves me a lot more space to work in the garage. That’s one thing.

Fin of the 1967 Volvo 1800S, with the tail of a blue Thunderbird in the background

Another is that it’s unique. I’ve never been able to quite decide if the 1800 is a beautiful car or a quirky car or an awkward car, but in a lot of ways it’s a timeless car. It was almost outdated when new (those fins!) but somehow didn’t look too out of place even in its final years. People today go nuts for it; everyone who talks to me about it thinks it’s gorgeous.

As I was contemplating the Volvo one day, I noticed that its fins were similar to those on my ’63 Thunderbird. Was it also influenced by the Ford X-100?

Another photo of the red 1967 Volvo 1800S on a country road

The Volvo has been a lot of work so far, and I’m already “looking forward” to pulling the intake and exhaust manifolds to look for an exhaust leak (gosh, I hope it’s not a crack, but the gooped-on sealer at the exhaust ports gives me a little hope). The Remflex gaskets are on order, in addition to a few other parts. It’s been a steady stream of boxes from Sweden on the porch lately, but we’ll get into that later, assuming I haven’t given up and sold this little Volvo for a loss. Stay tuned if you’re at all interested in how a Volvo 1800 works. I’m learning about it, too.

Related Reading

Volvos and a Saab at Waterford Hills by Me (with a prescient comment near the end)

Curbside Classic: 1970 Volvo P1800E: About Lars, Who Bought a Stylish Italian Suit and Wore it for Twelve Years  by J P Cavanaugh