On tonight’s episode of Dammit, Craigslist…
My first car and the first entry in this History of Vehicles series was a 1985 Volvo 745ti. I’ve always had a thing for older, quirky cars even before I had my license. My high school binders always had photos of Porsche 914s, gloriously boxy eighties Toyota Celicas, Volkswagen Cabriolets, Saab 900s, and a smattering of turbo Volvos.
Oh yes. Volvos.
Similar to my fondness for E28 and E34 M5s, my affection for these turbo bricks is borne out of an appreciation for machines that can haul ass and people and their junk all at the same time. I salivate over sports cars as much as the next petrolhead, but the image of a good sized sedan or estate flying down the highway with four friends and stuff for the weekend has its own appeal.
The want for another turbo Volvo has never been far out of mind. A couple friends from my Miata network are also into Volvos, one of them even having a 242 with a forever-in-progressB230FT swap. My now thematic Late Night Craigslist surf brought me upon this poor thing.
It was covered in dirt, healthy moss, shod in tires from the Bush Era (dare which administration I’m referring to), and body-wise a little worse for wear. I literally called my girlfriend after the test drive and said, “It’s such a piece of s**t, I’m totally buying it.”
The countdown to the title’s arrival (and subsequent vehicle sale) started from there. I was dumb enough to buy it without a smog cert but lucky enough for it to pass. I spent an entire day pressure washing every visible surface, vacuumed the years of pet hair out of it, and cleaned what I hoped was just half a liter of dried Pepsi off the dash. I even bothered to get the timing belt and water pump changed the first week. All of the other issues the car had were readily addressable with Amazon or IPD and a couple weekends, but by this point I’d already resolved that this was just another impulse buy, and if I was going to resurrect a brick it would have to have five doors.
My chaperoning of the Volvo was just long enough to highlight the positives. The ability to cruise down a two lane road with the (manually operated!) sunroof open and all four windows down was brilliant. I shall not venture to use the word “handling” here. Every spin of the tiller was an adventure over the high seas, playing telephone with the front wheels as the slop in all the ball joints and bushings eventually bound enough to create steering movement. But the car was a hoot to aim at broken pavement, feeling it disappear beneath me compared to crashing over the same stretch in my S2000.
Acceleration was an event because of everything except the actual change in velocity. The motor would hunker down for a moment before delivering the shove; turbo noises like an Isuzu NPR, the shifter vibrating from lack of bushing support, and the tail stepping to the side as it blew away the offside tire. It also did great burnouts, allegedly.
It was never meant to last, I knew it as soon as I handed over the cash. More than owning this particular car though, what I got from it was the assurance that I still like these cars. Not just basketcase Swede buckets with Exxon Valdez engine bays and disinterested chassis bushings, but a good sized sedan with a little extra character.
I’m not alone in this. After a couple emails, an entire family came out early one morning to look at the car. Sure, the guy had managed to get the family on board with the idea that it’d be a great father/daughter project, but you could see his own enthusiasm during the test drive.
After a few more miles and a stack of bills exchanged, the new owner accepted the keys with the most ridiculous grin. If you’ve been reading this series, you’ll know it’s not often I sell cars to strangers, but for once I felt good about releasing the car to an unknown who seemed genuinely excited about diving into the car’s needs.
Another Three-Week-Ownership Special in the books. Now, to [not?] see what’s languishing on Craigslist this evening…
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