1978 Volvo 240 Reviews, Pricing & Specs

Of all the cars I've ever owned (and I've owned many), this is one of my favorites. The real mystery, though, can be summed up in one word: "Why?" Is it fast? No. Does it handle well? Only if you don't have to turn. Is it sexy lookin'? Yes...if you have an odd attraction to shoe boxes. Is it luxurious inside? As luxurious as the lobby at Ikea. So why should a self-confessing motor head express any semblance of affection for this ungainly, brick of a car? You know what--I'm not sure I know how to answer that question. But I loved it. I even named it...Helga. Thing is, there is a certain charm to the Volvo 240 Series that has more to do with engineering than with style. Like, a lot more. Just like a tabloid diva, there are cars that catch your eye and cause your pulse to race. But they are likewise often out of reach and very high maintenance. The 242 is the antithesis of the supermodel. Appropriate adjectives for this car are words like: solid, dependable, functional, comfortable, reliable. There is an elegant simplicity to the design and engineering of this car that warrants great respect and admiration. Ask any engineer who knows, and he/she will tell you that making something simple is often far more difficult than making something complex. That irony was not lost on me during the time that I owned this car. For the most part, everything worked together seamlessly and the car was amazingly reliable. I acquired it during my senior year of college, when the car was already 11 years old. No creaks, squeaks, or rattles. No mechanical foibles. Ran like a top until I sold it a couple of years later, with close to 250,000 miles on it. And you know what? This car was so unconventional as to be really kind of cool. All my college friends loved it. One of them even gave me a license plate that said 'Helga' in lettering that matched the light tan paint scheme. The only person who didn't like Helga was my girlfriend and I think that was mainly because Helga didn't like her. Really. For some strange reason, my girlfriend was the only person who had trouble getting the car in gear. She would have trouble opening the door and I would reach over and with no more than two fingers pop the door open. Helga would even make strange noises when she was in the car that I never heard when she wasn't...weird stuff. But my girlfriend got the last laugh. I decided to propose to her when I was in graduate school but couldn't afford a nice ring. So in order to raise some cash, I sold Helga. My girlfriend said, "Yes." Nineteen years later, we are still happily married. And now that I think about it, maybe my wife and Helga had more in common than she'd like to admit--smart, dependable, trustworthy, solid. But of course, my wife is much better lookin'! Sorry, Helga. Dec 30, 2008