A Tale of Two Bricks: My 240 Story
#1
05-02-2013, 12:15 PM
A Tale of Two Bricks: My 240 Story
A Tale of Two Bricks: My 240 Story
I have been enamored with RWD Volvos ever since I was a child. I remember jealously lusting after the straight lines of solid Swedish steel as other kids were dropped off at school. Or as I gazed at passersby on the highway, trundling down the black ribbons of asphalt in their moose-proof rides. Oh yes, I was definitely a sick child. Let me preface this post by saying North Dakota really doesn't have a lot of classic Volvos. In fact, I could probably count the number of them currently in the state on one hand. This is just one thing that makes my 240 so special to me. In fact, I remember one day that I spotted this brick-beauty on a chance outing to Wal-Mart of all places. With a sharp glare and muttered threats of divorce, my wife tried to reel me back into reality. You see, people don't always appreciate strangers shoving their nose 3 inches away from the greenhouse of their classic Swede. Finally, she pried my back to the drudgery of our shopping list...I trudged in her footsteps with a whimper and numerous over-the-shoulder glances.
Some months later, I found where this car lived. It was always parked under the covered entry way to a local motel where folks often paid for longterm lodging. Many times I asked my wife to pull into the parking lot and let me drink in the image of beauty, but she wouldn't have it. She wasn't cruel of course - she just knew that if I got emotionally attached to it, I'd never stop thinking about it. Unfortunately, she was already too late. Several months too late. Nevertheless, I tried to force this car into the recesses of my mind. Obviously, the owner wasn't selling. In the following months, my Volvo fever flared up, worse than ever, inflamed by this local beauty. I had driven to South Dakota, even Minnesota in hopes of finding a great 240 (though a 700 or 900 series would suffice). All I met was disappointment after disappointment, built up on a seller's exaggerations and compounded by hours upon hours of travel time back home to reflect on the circumstance.
Yet there was a glimmer of hope. In the same town I lived in, there was an '87 240, burgundy in color with about 170,000 on the clock. It was in poor shape and the price reflected it somewhat. At only $400, this 240 had an interior that was totally roached, bad motor mounts, a possible head gasket leak, bad air mass meter, tires that make a baby's *** look as though it's covered by an underwear model's stubble and, oh, did I mention it got hit by a deer? Well, it did. Because the AMM was disconnected, I had to feather the gas pedal just to see if it could shift into second. In the 10° weather, restarting the car every 15 feet as it sputtered out go old really fast. Although I believed I could fix it like some crazy ex-girlfriend, I also knew it'd be a money pit in a similar way. I gritted my teeth, offered the man $200 and walked away when he declined my offer.
More months passed and dreams filled with haunting echos of "bork de bork de brick de bork" came and went along with them. Having all but given up, I had recently bought and sold a '93 Olds 98 Regency Elite (hurt my back), a '99 Jeep Grand Cherokee (hurt my wallet) and a 2000 Mitsubishi Mirage (hurt my pride). A week ago, while messing around on the internet and casually perusing the auto listings on a local ad site, my mouth dropped. That gorgeous 1988 Volvo 240 I had seen, now years ago, was listed for sale. I couldn't believe my eyes, but there it was. I'd know that 240 anywhere. When I saw the price, $2,500 or best offer, I knew that I would buy it. My mind was made up in less than a second. My heart fluttered, nervous at the possibility of missing this fleeting opportunity. The seller was a kind-sounding older man, the owner of the motel I had seen it at before. He patiently detailed the 240's loving history of maintenance and how important the car was to it's owner. You see, the owner had been stricken with stage 4 cancer and his son wasn't interested in the Volvo, so he put it up for sale as he got his estate and affairs in order.
It was explained to me numerous times how important it was to this gentleman that his pride and joy be well-taken care of. I eagerly assured him that I would take excellent care of the Volvo and likely be buried in it. He laughed and said he'd hold it for me so I could see it the next day, since it was 9:30PM. I thanked him again and made arrangements to see him tomorrow. Because I'm writing this, you obviously know how the rest of the story goes. I came, test drove it, fell in love and happily paid the man $2,200 (he said he just wanted to sell it to someone as appreciative as me) and drove it home with a bill of sale. The best part? It's just getting broken in at 113,406 miles. It also came with a Rubbermaid tub full of typical failure parts. There were overdrive relays, fuel pump relays, a Jetronic box and a lot more. This guy definitely knew his Volvos. :haw: Long story short, I got it home, cleaned it up meticulously, changed the oil/filter, spark plugs, rotor, cap, air filter, rear diff fluid, ATF and a whole lot more. Right now I'm waiting on the DMV for custom plates saying "I ROLL." So, without further ado, here is my gorgeous 240 beauty.
Here's some of that wonderful 240 imagery:
Yep, I think I'll make arrangements to be buried in it.
I have been enamored with RWD Volvos ever since I was a child. I remember jealously lusting after the straight lines of solid Swedish steel as other kids were dropped off at school. Or as I gazed at passersby on the highway, trundling down the black ribbons of asphalt in their moose-proof rides. Oh yes, I was definitely a sick child. Let me preface this post by saying North Dakota really doesn't have a lot of classic Volvos. In fact, I could probably count the number of them currently in the state on one hand. This is just one thing that makes my 240 so special to me. In fact, I remember one day that I spotted this brick-beauty on a chance outing to Wal-Mart of all places. With a sharp glare and muttered threats of divorce, my wife tried to reel me back into reality. You see, people don't always appreciate strangers shoving their nose 3 inches away from the greenhouse of their classic Swede. Finally, she pried my back to the drudgery of our shopping list...I trudged in her footsteps with a whimper and numerous over-the-shoulder glances.
Some months later, I found where this car lived. It was always parked under the covered entry way to a local motel where folks often paid for longterm lodging. Many times I asked my wife to pull into the parking lot and let me drink in the image of beauty, but she wouldn't have it. She wasn't cruel of course - she just knew that if I got emotionally attached to it, I'd never stop thinking about it. Unfortunately, she was already too late. Several months too late. Nevertheless, I tried to force this car into the recesses of my mind. Obviously, the owner wasn't selling. In the following months, my Volvo fever flared up, worse than ever, inflamed by this local beauty. I had driven to South Dakota, even Minnesota in hopes of finding a great 240 (though a 700 or 900 series would suffice). All I met was disappointment after disappointment, built up on a seller's exaggerations and compounded by hours upon hours of travel time back home to reflect on the circumstance.
Yet there was a glimmer of hope. In the same town I lived in, there was an '87 240, burgundy in color with about 170,000 on the clock. It was in poor shape and the price reflected it somewhat. At only $400, this 240 had an interior that was totally roached, bad motor mounts, a possible head gasket leak, bad air mass meter, tires that make a baby's *** look as though it's covered by an underwear model's stubble and, oh, did I mention it got hit by a deer? Well, it did. Because the AMM was disconnected, I had to feather the gas pedal just to see if it could shift into second. In the 10° weather, restarting the car every 15 feet as it sputtered out go old really fast. Although I believed I could fix it like some crazy ex-girlfriend, I also knew it'd be a money pit in a similar way. I gritted my teeth, offered the man $200 and walked away when he declined my offer.
More months passed and dreams filled with haunting echos of "bork de bork de brick de bork" came and went along with them. Having all but given up, I had recently bought and sold a '93 Olds 98 Regency Elite (hurt my back), a '99 Jeep Grand Cherokee (hurt my wallet) and a 2000 Mitsubishi Mirage (hurt my pride). A week ago, while messing around on the internet and casually perusing the auto listings on a local ad site, my mouth dropped. That gorgeous 1988 Volvo 240 I had seen, now years ago, was listed for sale. I couldn't believe my eyes, but there it was. I'd know that 240 anywhere. When I saw the price, $2,500 or best offer, I knew that I would buy it. My mind was made up in less than a second. My heart fluttered, nervous at the possibility of missing this fleeting opportunity. The seller was a kind-sounding older man, the owner of the motel I had seen it at before. He patiently detailed the 240's loving history of maintenance and how important the car was to it's owner. You see, the owner had been stricken with stage 4 cancer and his son wasn't interested in the Volvo, so he put it up for sale as he got his estate and affairs in order.
It was explained to me numerous times how important it was to this gentleman that his pride and joy be well-taken care of. I eagerly assured him that I would take excellent care of the Volvo and likely be buried in it. He laughed and said he'd hold it for me so I could see it the next day, since it was 9:30PM. I thanked him again and made arrangements to see him tomorrow. Because I'm writing this, you obviously know how the rest of the story goes. I came, test drove it, fell in love and happily paid the man $2,200 (he said he just wanted to sell it to someone as appreciative as me) and drove it home with a bill of sale. The best part? It's just getting broken in at 113,406 miles. It also came with a Rubbermaid tub full of typical failure parts. There were overdrive relays, fuel pump relays, a Jetronic box and a lot more. This guy definitely knew his Volvos. :haw: Long story short, I got it home, cleaned it up meticulously, changed the oil/filter, spark plugs, rotor, cap, air filter, rear diff fluid, ATF and a whole lot more. Right now I'm waiting on the DMV for custom plates saying "I ROLL." So, without further ado, here is my gorgeous 240 beauty.
Here's some of that wonderful 240 imagery:
Yep, I think I'll make arrangements to be buried in it.
#2
05-02-2013, 03:27 PM
Member
Join Date: Mar 2011
Location: North Myrtle Beach, SC
Posts: 80
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Thread
Thread Starter
Forum
Replies
Last Post
