My New 1988 Volvo 240

Here I am, enjoying the aesthetics. Like by a magic wand my clothes and my new wagon, are blending in to this late autumn scenery, on our way from Trondheim to Oslo. 

Some choices and decisions in life are better made with a cold heart and a rational mind. But for me, choosing a vehicle is all about the feelings.

Ever since the first time a saw a square brick shaped Volvo, reminding me of the Sovjet cars I grew up with, I knew I wanted one. But as with many of the good things coming our way, this one came unexpectedly.

My girlfriend’s father lives up north in Norway. In a place right above the Lofoten islands - which most people have heard of if they have ever considered Norway as a travel destination. We did not get the chance to visit him this summer, and with our plans of traveling in November, we realised that it had to be now in October or not for a long time. With older parents, we should grab the opportunities we have to spend some quality time with them.

Inland flights in Norway are quite expensive, so I was playing around with the idea of driving the 2000 km up north. Just a note, 2000 km in Norway is not like 2000 km in a country with no mountains, fjords, tunnels, ferries, all types of weather conditions in one day and quite strict speed limits.

At the time I was scouting the used car market for a rear wheel drive winter beater. (A “winter beater” is a term for a reliable, inexpensive car primarily used during the winter months. And some sideways fun). After rallying, crashing, but luckily not totally destroying my BMW, I decided to get a second car for more active driving.

I saw the Volvo 240 up north. About a two days drive from our goal destination. And God, it looked nice. Matt black, well kept, 1988 wagon. Built as a two seater to be a working vehicle that could carry heavy loads. And very reasonably priced.

Timeless, classic, well kept brick.

I went out of my way on a phone call to the owner. He turned out to be one of those decent, honest and true to themselves folks that live up north. They are different from the city inhabitants. They tend to give a first impression of tough and reserved, but often turn out to be the nicest people out there. I remember telling my girlfriend, after talking to him on the phone, that the seller seems like a guy that never smiles. My assumption was crashed when he picked us up at the airport; his genuine smile did not leave his face during the entirety of what became a warm hangout rather than a trade.

I was only allowed to buy the car because the seller liked my plan to road trip it, and my knowledge and enthusiasm for older vehicles. All the others who contacted him - and there were many - either had no idea what they were trying to buy or wanted to end its life on a rallycross track. But not me.

That smile says it all.

I remember the excitement of seeing it the first time, parked around the corner of a gas station. All the laughs we shared with the seller about the quirks of an old Volvo while I was inspecting it. And my surprise and satisfaction, when I realised how good of a deal I had made.

So yeah, it is mine now. A matt black 1988 Volvo 240 pickup with a roof, 2,3 engine and a rear wheel drive. I am excited, inspired and grateful.