I bought this car because one day it took forever to get my hair cut.
In the dark ages before Great Cuts or Super Snips or whatever the strip mall chains that cut hair are called, there were these places called neighborhood barbershops. Lurking in out of the way storefronts, they could be pretty hit-or-miss in terms of service, especially if you weren’t a regular. One Saturday morning in 1987 I made the mistake of wandering into one such establishment, expecting to walk out less than an hour later with newly shortened hair and my whole weekend in front of me.
Hours later, my hair remained uncut as the barber and patrons laughed and shot the breeze and ignored the newcomer customer in the corner. My fresh-bought edition of the newspaper had been thoroughly read through by this time, from the front page to the tiniest print at the back of the classifieds, and bored silly, I was going through it for about the third time when a classified ad for a car caught my eye: A 1983 Volvo DL wagon.
Car enthusiasts on the internet like to tout our bona fides by bemoaning the decline of the manual transmission and bragging about how cool we think station wagons are. Let the normies dismiss wagons as dull mommy taxis; we alone have always known and understood the wagon’s inherent cool factor; we alone intuitively get that a long body with extra doors, if properly designed and/or modified, has the potential to be a sleeper sports sedan or muscle car with room for subwoofers and an extra set of track wheels. Well, I’m calling it now: I knew way back then, pre-worldwide web, that wagons were cool.
My interest in wagons was pragmatic, though: I was still figuring out what my life’s journey was going to be, but I pictured lots of road trips and camping, so a wagon was a no-brainer. Even better if it had the reputation of a Volvo.
My hair finally cut some four hours after entering the barbershop, and with half my day shot, I took my battered Saturday classified page and drove out to the selling dealership. And there she was, the Volvo DL wagon (also known as a 245 – as in 200-series, 4 cylinders, and 5 doors – but I’m using Volvo’s simplified model designation for the 1983s). Resplendent in light blue (“Smurf blue”) with a dark blue vinyl interior, factory A/C, and a 4-speed manual with an electric overdrive button on the shift knob, she stood tall and boxy and sported thick rubber VOLVO mudflaps like a dump truck.
I named her Inga before I ever test drove her. She was only four years old, which compared to all my previous purchases was basically brand new. Best of all, Inga was Bosch fuel injected. Experience with a cavalcade of unreliable old carbureted hoopties had put me off ever again buying anything that didn’t have its gasoline introduced through little electronically-controlled nozzles.
The asking price, $6500, would have seemed as unattainable as a Fabergé egg just a couple of years earlier, but I was determined. I secured financing, and Inga was mine. The LH-Jetronic fuel injection performed flawlessly. Let the old timers have their carbs and their chokes and their heat risers; I remain a devotee of Robert Bosch’s engine management systems to this day.
One day after owning the car for about a year I had the driver’s side inner door panel off for some reason and while poking around in there, I discovered a switch with wires attached to it that had somehow come disconnected from the driver’s door lock. I reattached it and Voila! My Volvo now had 4-door central locking! (Also supplied by Bosch.) I could lock and unlock all doors by operating the driver’s lock. It was like finding a huge secret room in your house.
Less thrilling was having to remove the tailgate to R-and-R all the wires going through the hinges – for lights, wiper motor and door lock – which had begun breaking from years of constant flexing. That was a two-man job.
The Volvo wagon should have been a dream for camping. With the seats folded, there was just over 6 feet of stretch-out space in the back. The rear fenders, dating back to the late 1960s 140 series wagons, were each sufficient to hold a full-sized spare tire, and there was loads of room for gear under the load floor.
Alas, those dreams of heading out to Wyoming and sleeping in the back of my wagon never materialized. But the Volvo’s wagonish ways proved indispensable just the same. I biked a lot then and Inga swallowed my 18-speed with ease. Always on the lookout for better living arrangements or cheaper rent, I moved myself and all my possessions in that car two or three times, and I helped friends move too. Its high – for a car – ground clearance came in handy during a heavy rainstorm when I was able to carefully maneuver up onto curbs to bypass flooded sections of road.
Inga’s original color. Photo credit: Tom Klockau
At some point I decided the light blue paint was not to my liking and had it redone in a Ford truck shade of dark blue. I still love the color. I removed the luggage rack too, for a cleaner look. No longer so interested in camping, I envisioned undertaking a sort of Sportwagon transformation that would culminate in a Ford 5.0L engine swap (and would, I’d like to point out, predate the Audi RS Avant by more than a decade – I was way ahead of that curve).
But that never happened, either. I discovered Nissan’s new Sentra SE-R instead and traded the Volvo in on one, which would ultimately prove to be one of my earliest automotive regrets. After the SE-R, I returned to the Volvo fold in a 1985 740GLE, which, although it had basically the same engine, could not replicate the experience of owning the 240DL.
I’ve never camped out west in the back of a Volvo wagon. But displaying independence and resourcefulness of a different sort, I now avoid barbershops and cut my own hair in the backyard with a mirror and a set of Wahl clippers.
Related CC reading:
Curbside Classic: 1978 Volvo 245DL – The Quintessential Volvo
Curbside Classic: 1979 Volvo 244 DL – Swedish Sense And Sensibility
Ahh, the old local Barbershop! I became a regular at one as a teen/young adult. I have never been able to match the combination of haircut and ambiance of Gene’s Parkview Barbershop on East State Boulevard. My friend and I once had Gene’s last two appointments on a Friday afternoon. He sent me next door to a restaurant for 3 cups of ice, then he poured us each a stiff drink. It has all been downhill since that day. 🙂 But I agree, I didn’t like those places if I had not invested in becoming a regular.
I found a nice Volvo wagon in the same color when my eldest kid was looking for a car. Same color even. He could not see in it what you (and I) did.
We bought a 1985 245DL when our second child announced he was showing up in a few months. Two car seats and a golden retriever were not going to fit well in our 1982 Honda Accord sedan.
I was at a loss for what wagon to buy. It seemed that a Chevy Eurosport was going to be the one (this was before the Taurus was introduced). We had the Honda on the driveway with a For Sale sign. A neighbor a few doors away was a Volvo dealer, and asked me what we were going to buy. I told him, and he asked “why don’t you look at my cars?”
I explained that I couldn’t afford a Volvo, and he told me I might be surprised. Anyway, for just $1500 over the cost of the Chevy we ended up with a metallic blue 245DL with a 4-speed/electric overdrive gearbox.
There had been a strike at Bosch, and Volvo supply was short, but Art sent his son and a couple friends to Sweden to pick up a few cars under the European delivery plan, and immediately shipped them to the US. Ours was one of these.
When we were between kids three and four I needed a replacement for my work car, then a ’75 Opel Sportwagon. We bought a new Taurus wagon and I inherited the 245 from my wife.
I ran the miles up to about 150,000 and sold it when I took a company car (5-speed ’95 SHO… yes!). We listed the Volvo in the newspaper, and before noon several people were on the way to see it. The first guy offered my wife a few hundred dollars above asking to hold it while he went to the bank.
Great car that served us well. Thanks for stirring the memories, Mark!
Two things I don’t miss – barbers and carburetors! I miss my hair, but since going bald I’ve just used clippers.
First ‘injection’ cars in the mid 90s were actually throttle body injection, but the difference in cold running and the lack of flat spots and surges was a revelation, as was the fuel economy over 50 (British) mpg from my Citroen AX and Renault Clio the best fuel economy of any petrol cars I’ve ever owned.
Ah carburetors I’ll gladly forget. FI was a big game changer. I can still hear my Mom grinding away on the old Dart on cold mornings, and being both amazed and disturbed to hear her use curse words. And I’m glad your Volvo had the OD. Miy 78 242 sedan didn’tt. Cruising fast at 4000 plus rpms accross the vast Texas plains often got tedious but never hurt it’s longevity nor use too much gas.
I thought about getting a 240 a few times, specifically a 242GT or later a Turbo, but never felt a huge attraction. In 1986 my mom bought a DL wagon, 4 speed with overdrive. She absolutely LOVED the central locking, appreciated the heated seats and almost never used the A/C. “Who needs air conditioning when you can open the windows?” She drove that car for 24 years. I only drove it a few times, but having learned to drive in a 122S with no power steering, a ribbon speedometer and a 2 foot long gear shift, it never really felt like a Volvo. Snicking the switch into OD was very satisfying, though.
“I bought this car because one day it took forever to get my hair cut.” My people!!
When we moved to Kansas City, my wife and I briefly lived in an apartment while we shopped for a house. It had one garage bay that she used, and the front door had a dead bolt that we didn’t have the key for — which was fine when we had the garage remote . One Day I got back from whatever work trip I’d been on but she wasn’t home yet and the front door was bolted so I couldn’t go inside. Left to my own devices (literally), I opened my laptop, connected to our home WiFi and started browsing Craig’s List, where of course I happened to find a smoking deal that just couldn’t be passed up. I’d already called the seller and struck a provisional deal by the time my wife finally came home.
Still hear about that one, but she doesn’t leave me unsupervised as much anymore.
Greetings from the resident Certified Volvo 240 Nut™! What a great car!
After my wife’s ’67 122S bought at 3 yrs old and kept for many years it was followed by an ’81 240 sedan, ’82 wagon, ’83 sedan, and ’87 sedan. A number of SAAB 900s and a 99 kept them company during those times as well, starting in ’74, along with some big Mopar and GM US boat-hauler sedans and wagons.
I’d still feel perfectly comfortable and safe in daily driving a 240 Volvo or 900 SAAB, given their advanced safety designs (while putting up with the electrical glitches); they were great cars both. Our ’82 wagon (4 Spd manual w/o/d) was that same shade of perriwinkle blue. Our younger son drove it and eventually sold it for a ’99 SAAB 9-3 5-spd.
Well, it was a Volvo 145 in baby puke yellow, but I did drive one all over the West, mostly carrying a bird dog in the back, but driving all over field and forests. You should have done so.
And yes, Frieda (my German Shorthair retriever) and I slept together in the back with the seats down, shotguns in the front.
Very common cars in OZ when I lived there and they were cheap, but not desirable the granma grocery getter image did them no favours, a workmate bought one and loved it.
“At some point I decided the light blue paint was not to my liking and had it redone in a Ford truck shade of dark blue.”
Is the car in the first and the third image yours ? If yes, it is amazing to read that this dark blue was a Ford truck color. It looks spot on (at least in the images) as the dark blue Volvo used in later years (code #604 – not available in 1983, yet).
Had such a dark blue one, MY 1991, with beige leather interior. Best car ever. Miss it each and every day.
I have a 1989volvo 740turbo brilliant car i bought it from new and I’m still driving it the overdrive plays up from time to time but I’ve learned to live with it but this car is flawless best car ive ever had im moving to kenya and i want to take it with me but the import tax would be to much have to find as way
I’ve said before that I’m sorry that your SE-R experience was so dismal, given the general impression (including mine) that those early 1990s SE-R’s were fantastic. Nevertheless, I will say that they are about as different from a mid-1980s Volvo Wagon than wine is to milk. It’s good to be able to appreciate both. I’m just a bit amazed at how you went from one automotive extreme to another in succession.
I love my Volvo wagon precisely for its vaguely agricultural driving behavior. Sitting bolt upright, with a school-bus sized steering wheel, and winding out the revs as I slowly get on to going 40 mph. Noting like it. Certainly not anything like my SE-R driving experience.
I do like the darker blue (much rarer even when it’s a factory color as Midsommar notes) over the original light blue.
Your posts have been wonderful to enjoy, and appreciate. Great car, and paint choices!
I moved to Iowa to help my grandpa in a SAAB 95. Went to get my haircut in the town of 700. Bob is still in business after cutting my hair back in 1964. I took a little cardboard number from the nail and waited. Guys came in and butted in front of me. Turned out they could leave and do errands and their number was still good. Haha.
Met my wife in Dumont and we now have two VW diesel wagons. 50 mpg all the time. The 2003 has a swapped 5 speed. Wagons make sense where you don’t have to hide stuff. Or have dog you love.
Also. If you are a movie fan: A Man Called Ove. SAAB Volvo rivalry and more. The Tom Hanks remake doesn’t work as well.
Yes, A Man Called Ove is a really sweet and singular piece, very likeable: sure, it’s hardly the world’s best film, but it’s miles ahead of the twee and pretty-much unbearable remake.
I’ll never make up my mind if these are good or a con-job, the latter for being overweight, a bit slow, vastly too thirsty – think automatic – questionable-looking, too expensive, and never as reliable in the functional details as their reputation might suggest, but still yet, the former, for comfort, safety, a bit quicker than you might think, absolute longevity (of the essentials), and surprisingly good dynamics from seemingly basic underpinnings. Undoubtedly, somewhere in that fabled land that lies between the fanbois and the disdainers, is the truthiness.
I reckon I’d still rather have a really good haircut, but then far-from-refuse a lift home from the guy in the 240.