I drive a 1986 Volvo 240 DL; the DL stands for DeLuxe. Not that is any glamorous about the car. I have named her Vivian (I’m a sucker for alliteration) and have only had her for about a year and a bit yet I am utterly attached to her.
Yes, she looks like a brick and is the color of boring but she is solid and dependable. She is definitely not fast; the thing can barely keep up with a Toyota Prius, forget any modern car. The only tickets I’ve received have been parking tickets. Speeding in the 240? Not likely. Yes, the car will get up to 90 (don’t ask me how I know), but it hates being at that speed. Besides, which car is a cop going to pull over first: a beige brick or a flashy BMW? Chances are it’s the BMW that the hypothetical cop will pull over first.
One of the best parts about driving this car is the looks that are cast my way. It’s usually people doing double-takes or gazing at in admiringly. I’ve even had people lean out their windows at red lights to talk to me about the car. No other car I’ve owned to this point has caused that much of a reaction in people.
Sam Smith in Hagerty’s video on the Volvo 240 said it right when he said this car either makes you a Volvo lover or you will never love Volvo. I happen to fall into the first camp.
Yet not everything is peachy. Unfortunately, before I was able to finish this post, the car was scheduled to do a smog test and it failed — miserably. Fast forward about a month and a half and it still hasn’t passed smog. My dad and I have replaced the oxygen sensor, cleaned the engine, fixed the timing, and made sure there is no carbon build-up on the cylinder heads. It still hasn’t passed smog. Currently, the car is in the shop because not even my dad could get it to pass California smog requirements. It is heartbreaking. It is infuriating.
The heartbreak here is obvious. The fury comes from the fact that I see countless other vehicles come through the smog shop and pass within 15 minutes yet my poor little car isn’t good enough. Trucks and RVs with massive V8 and V10 engines pass. My dad even had a work truck from 1997 pass with hydrocarbons that were roughly 1000 parts per million while my Volvo fails at 130.
The worst part about it all is that I understand why the smog test is in place. I get it. Keeping the air clean is never a bad idea. I just despite the double (triple even?) standards. I own an old car and would like to drive it. It has no horsepower, has a small engine, and is a box on wheels. Why can’t I drive it? There are lifted trucks that pollute more than me. All I can really do is throw my hands up in disgust and exasperation. “Oh well” is really the only thing worth saying.
So Vivian sits in the shop, with the fix possibly being a split intake hose (my dad and his smog expert friend have their doubts) and I won’t be able to drive the car in a minimum of 10 days.
How about I stop complaining though because this has illustrated something rather interesting about my current situation in life: I need a basic and reliable modern car. I do choke a bit saying “modern” but the reality is I can’t be carless because it is in the shop. If I move and this happens again I’m boned. Maybe I’m being a bit too paranoid, but I think the best thing is to get Vivian fixed, save up, and get a car that works for me; it just needs to work.
All this to simply say: I love my little Volvo 240 and she has been a blessing and a curse.
Until next time.