For a guy who is perfectly at home taking a nap under a ’74 Firebird, I am a snob. I mostly read classic books, I visit art museums whenever I can, I’ll only drink bourbon if it’s at least from the second shelf, and I love foreign films. Recently, I watched Swedish director Ingmar Bergman’s challenging Persona for the second time, hoping for a lightning bolt of illumination; but like many others, I found myself again asking more questions than I got answers. Regardless, all people wear a mask before others, and even before themselves to some extent. Of course, this must have something to do with cars, right?
Of course it does. I own nine American cars, but as I’ve previously attested, I’m presenting an incomplete image of myself as a person in doing so. For several years, I’ve harbored a not-so-secret desire for a Swedish car. As indecisive as I am, I cannot decide between a Volvo Amazon or a Saab 96, but on a hot July day in 2018, a showroom opened up under the cloudless sky as open-headered vintage race cars rumbled past.
The first car in line was a Volvo 122 wagon, from the second half of the 1960s if the grille and wheels are any indication. I love wagons, but this bodystyle of Amazon is a mixed metaphor for me: The boxy roof predates the hipster-friendly 240 of later decades while the rest of the car looks like something from 1966’s Persona itself.
Oh yeah, it was. Regardless, this model is not the Swede for which I seek.
Next in line was this PV544, a model that lasted all the way into 1965. It looks for all the world like a small 1939 Ford, but underneath the facade is a durable Swedish car that was as comfortable on the Midnight Sun Rally as it was on the streets of Dearborn.
I’m including this photograph for reference, mostly because it’s awesome.
Our featured PV544 was built toward the end of production, since it wears a B18 badge, indicating that it has a B18 engine. Unfortunately, it too will be a dead end. My wife dislikes the appearance of the PV544, and although she doesn’t particularly care what I buy as long as I’m happy with it, it’s the least I can do to take her opinions into account.
The next car in nature’s showroom was this Volvo 122, or Amazon, as the rest of the world called it. This very nice version is an early model, 1956-61, judging by the grille and hubcaps.
Although I own some fairly flashy American iron, my true self prefers a conservative look. It’s impossible to not draw attention in an old car, but I like that attention to be indicated through admiring glances rather than through some hyperbolic windbag talking about the one he used to have while I am trying to fill the car up at the gas station. This subdued hued Amazon is nearly perfect.
Please allow me to post several pictures so you too can admire all the nerdy loveliness of the Amazon sedan.
You’d never know how tank-like and durable the Amazon is from this angle.
One more and we’ll move on. I obviously love the Amazon, but at this moment, my ardor for it may be surpassed by an even quirkier Swede.
It’s the Saab 96. This is a later model, a few years into the Ford V4 era. It’s the perfect color (I love most blues: three of my seven old cars are blue).
I prefer the 1966-’68 front end. This 1967 96 appeared on eBay a couple of years ago; it was the last of the two-strokes and it sold for under $7000. Maybe I just wasn’t feeling it that day, but another reason I’ve avoided buying a 96 is that parts are not as easy to come by as they are for the Amazon.
A two-stroke three-cylinder and a V4 were both available in 1967, but by the time our featured 96 was built (1969 at the earliest), the V4 was the only option. Although the snotty snowblower would be an unbelievable amount of fun, I imagine the V4 would be a much more practical experience, and if I’m buying a Swedish car, practicality is something I must take into account, even if it’s against my nature.
Therefore, if I were going to buy my Swedish car today, I’d buy a 1967 or ’68 Saab 96 with a V4, in blue or that really nice Seafoam Green on the eBay car. It’s not like the 96 is falling out of garages in America, so it might be a while before I find the right one, and by that point, my vacillating self may have moved back to the Amazon. Or maybe I’ll find a P1800 that I can afford.
On this particular July day, however, I showed up and left in my weirdest car, as I often do when watching the vintage races. As odd and cool as a four-speed Corvair convertible is, however, it’s not even remotely Swedish, but who knows? Maybe that grille-less face is hiding something after all.
Like the Swedes, but am absolutely in love with the Corvair. I still feel they’re the greatest car of the Sixties.
For me the Amazon sedan. That body was just made for those red centred hubcaps.
Another Amazon vote. It would be nice to have a car that almost never needs fixing. But if you are going to go weird, you might as well go all the way and get the one with the Lawn Boy engine. The V4 just takes the odd out of a Saab.
My wife’s father sold Saabs for a time in the 60s. Not many of them, of course.
That’s funny you should mention Lawn Boy; I just bought some old catalogs from a “gone out of business” century old local hardware store, and one was for Lawn Boys from the late-’60s or early ’70s.
Well, it’s new enough that the mower is green. 1966-67? I once owned a tan one that was pre-66, I think. 16:1 gas/oil mixture. When I got done using it the grass was short and the mosquitoes were gone. 🙂
A friend of mine had a 61 model 93 with the 3-cylinder.
My memories are:
– slow
– odd sound
– blue smoke
– freewheel
– overheating, the radiator is placed behind the engine…..In long uphills we had to turn the heater on to slow down the inevitable boiling.
Grey by the way.
…except Canada, where it was badged the Volvo Canadian.
(Sweet set of pics!)
I think only the ones assembled in Halifax wore the “Canadian” badge, but my memory for such trivia grows weak.
It was never badged “Amazon” anywhere except possibly in Sweden. And it’s a name that only came to be used commonly in more recent decades. At the time, and for quite a while afterwards, I had no idea of or exposure to the Amazon moniker. These were simply Volvo 122s. As they were officially called and known.
So the rest of the world did not call it Amazon, until much more recently.
And yes, there’s probably no doubt thta only the Hailfax-built 122s were badged “Canadian”, for obvious reasons.
Here’s a page from the April ’63 issue of “Canada Track & Traffic”, perhaps the only Canada-based car magazine. This page is an adjunct to a feature article about Volvo’s decision to build cars in Canada. I’ve highlighted the text that makes me think the badges were “Canadian” before the build was Canadian.
As to “Amazon” versus 121/122/123, the Wikipedia article‘s third graf presents an interesting explanation for why they were badged “Amazon” in Sweden only.
(Thank you, Paul; “probably no doubt” is a phrase I’m going to make an effort to use! (-; )
I just looked at the Wikipedia article, too. I always thought that the US was the only country in which the Amazon name was unavailable, especially considering that almost everyone refers to them as Amazons these days. That’s what you get for making assumptions, I guess.
Scandinavia: Amazon.
Elsewhere: 121/122S/123GT.
According to Swedish Wikipedia: https://sv.wikipedia.org/wiki/Volvo_Amazon
BTW, everybody called these the Amazon right from the start, objections by Kreidler or not.
I’ve written about my family’s Volvo’s, including my own 122S, but at the risk of being pedantic, a few comments. The wagon is probably a ‘65-67, based on the grill and wheels, but the California license plate is all wrong for those years, so presumably not original. My parents’ 1964 122S registered late in ‘64 was MLT001 and my own ‘65 122S was NKX129. Unless there was an excess supply of plates starting with DLA at some small town DMV, the plates are much older than the car. And they are not transferable (unless personalized, which came along much later). The sedan, with the earlier style wheels and grill could be as late as 1964, though it is missing the B18 grill badge. Finally, I too only heard the Amazon name used more re entry, but various configurations of these cars were sold as 121, 123, and 131 as well as 122.
If it’s a Volvo, then it’s gotta be a wagon…I’d take the 122 wagon in the first picture above. Until now, I’d never noticed how similar the 122 wagon roofline was to that of the 145 – boxy Swedish goodness!
An old friend of ours had a blue 96 V4 just like the one you showed. He had it for quite some years, as his DD in LA. I rode in it a number of times and drove it once or twice. terrific little car; utterly unique in its sensations of interior space, engine sounds, steering feel, and others. It was a strong contrast to the Peugeot 404 I had at the time, which was boxy, airy, RWD, and had an exceptionally smooth engine.
The Saab was a roarty Viking; the 404 a smooth and elegant French madamoiselle. I loved them both, but was quite happy to live with my French mistress for the long haul.
My Swede count is probably higher than most, but not all of them were great. 1965 Volvo 544 (Good, but high miles). 1971 Volvo 144 (Deferred maintenance). 1972 SAAB 95 wagon (Great looking but bad Trans). 1966 SAAB 95 wagon (Been through flood, bad electrical). My favorite was the 1968 SAAB 96 (Last of the 3 Cylinders, also known as “The Shrike.” Really cool, fun to drive).
I came home from the hospital in a PV544 named Erik the Red. When my sister was born my parents traded him in for Sonja, a tan ’67 Saab 95 (wagon) with the 2 stroke. I have fond memories of road trips to Maine in that car, and of my mom getting airborne (or close to it) coming down Westbourne Rd near our childhood home. Of course I also remember watching blue electrical arcs under the hood with my dad on a humid evening, as well as the family waiting one November day at a toll plaza in CT to be picked by my uncle when Sonja (as she frequently did) decided that she really didn’t like the rain.
For years I was a Saab freak of the worst kind. Seven moving parts (in the engine)–my kinda simplicity. Roll off a mountain and step right out at the bottom. What’s not to like?
Owned two or three of them including a blue sedan with V-4 as pictured and a tan wagon with the V-4. You should know that the weird transmission used with the 2-stroke was only slightly beefed for the V-4. A weak link.
I also owned a ’67 Volvo 122 wagon, purchased new. Except for a tendency to diesel upon shutoff I was quite fond of it.
That would be my choice.
I’ve had two Saab 96’s: ‘73 and ‘71 V-4s. Both were blue and quintessential Swedes. I finally had to consign the last one to a dedicated Saab graveyard in upstate New York.: victims of rot to the floorpans. Great fun and great memories!
Had several classic 900s including two SPGs: would still have one, but rust won out again. Had a 2002 95 wagon which was superb- until a woman pulled out in front of me and totaled it. Driving the last of several 9000s, a ‘98 CSE with a five speed. It’s the limit! Zero envy when sailing down the road.
I live less than 10 minutes away from Waterford Hills, and have been in the area for almost 30 years. My wife and I never went there until about 3 years ago. We love it!
And I think the tan station wagon may belong to a Facebook friend of mine.
I’ve been going to the vintage races in July since 1995; there aren’t as many race entrants as their used to be, but the parking lot is almost always interesting.
Every year I say I’ll go down and watch a regular race weekend, but I never have. Maybe this year!
The Amazon sedan looks a great example and is my choice, though the green 96 with the older grille could be tempting for a left field choice.
Perhaps you should follow modern fashion and get one of Volvo’s first crossovers 😉