The first car that was mine, all mine. A friend’s father sold it to me on a handshake loan and off I went. Blissful ignorance is the best way to describe my relationship with this one. I don’t recall the exact span but it had been some time since the car was last driven regularly. The first night I had it the heater valve blew. Within the first three months I had a tire blow out on the highway, and eventually all of them would need to be replaced due to age. Then the speedometer stopped working.
Over the next year and a half the timing belt was changed, along with several fuel pumps, a radiator, and another heater valve. More than a few improvised repairs would have to be made in miscellaneous areas. Eventually I got the hang of driving clutch, and even rev-matching on downshifts was getting easier. Alas, a blown head gasket and another fuel pump would see me throw in the towel. Away it was to the yard in the sky. I did manage to keep the rear license plate though. Rare was it that I bothered with mementos after this.
Still, for the little while I had her we made a lot of memories. Some of them were even intentional. I did a lot of dumb things in the name of stupid fun, and my only regret is not knowing enough to take care of the maintenance and repairs properly. I will find another Swedish Millennium Falcon some day, but it will never replace the first one.
Driving wise? I can hardly remember. With a 2.3-liter turbocharged inline-four, back then it felt like a rocket ship. Winding out second gear may as well have been the jump to hyperspace, but with more body roll than a Nimitz-class aircraft carrier I wouldn’t have called the limits “high.” I was the only one of my friends with a rear-wheel-drive car that wasn’t a pick-up truck, and the weight and long wheelbase were extremely forgiving of my ineptitude. Despite all the fun, it did everything as Volvo advertised and kept me safe throughout my silliness. My memories are dominated by wastegate whistle and the inside rear tire lighting up as the fronts howled in protest…or perhaps that was one or two passengers.
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