All things considered, I like Volvos. Probably because, at their best, they are cars that don’t pretend to be something they’re not.
These cars are nothing more than sound, comfortable, safe and long-lasting transport, of an ilk best typified by the 140/240 series.
Rugged and civilised, these were cars that made no apology for being that slightly dull but dependable – and likeable – friend.
Our Martin Buckley appreciates the quality and honesty of Volvos
I’ve owned Amazons, and the first car I ever drove after passing my test was my dad’s 245GLT estate.
I had a 740GLT for a while in the ’90s, a really shockingly boxy shape on the rare occasion you see one today.
The pre-big-bumper 140s were really quite handsome (although I didn’t think so at the time), and the P1800 got away with trying to be glamorous, although it was a bit of a fraud: not so the 262C, a flagship coupé that was completely at odds with the image of clean-lined rationalism the firm had nurtured for decades.
Comfort and space are key to the Volvo’s appeal
Somewhere in between came the 164, a bid for the 3.0-litre luxury saloon market first seen in 1968.
Almost 105,000 were built in five years, so the 164 was very far from being a flop, yet somehow you feel it should have been.
Although not immune to rust they were more resilient than most in this respect, so I suspect the survival rate of 164s is fairly good, particularly because they were not a car that had an attraction for hooligan owners.
The Volvo 164’s unapologetically boxy profile
It probably found its most appreciative audience in North America, where the 164 was seen as a genuine threat to Mercedes-Benz, and faithful long-term Volvo owners brought up on the Amazon and 144 were looking for something with a degree of prestige value to trade up to.
Visually, the 164 made no attempt to hide the fact it was a 144 saloon with a nose job.
Behind its boxy ‘prestige’ grille was a straight-six pushrod engine developed from the existing ‘four’, which required an almost four-inch wheelbase stretch.
The 164 was one of the new breed of Volvos, with a grille modelled on British classics
The resulting car understeered like a pig at the first hint of a corner, and also offered a poor performance versus mpg equation: 107mph and 0-60mph in 12 secs at 17mpg must have made buyers think twice, even those who could afford to lob out £2200.
Yet it was a restful, refined car for those temperate drivers who simply wanted to waft around in leather-lined luxury: a decadent barge in the great tradition of the 3.0-litre Vauxhalls, Fords and Austins that were beginning to fall out of favour.
In fact, for those British caravan-towing types who were missing their Rover 3-Litres, the big Volvo was a natural replacement. They would certainly have been at ease with its fuel consumption.
When the 164 went on sale in 1968, the marque was growing in the UK
The 164 at least had build quality and a certain cool Scandinavian charm on its side.
With injection as the 164E from 1971, the big Volvo became a genuinely quick car, freakishly so in manual form where some tests recorded a 0-60mph time of 8.5 secs with a 118mph top speed.
It was a shame there was no estate version.
In this 164, the Volvo’s straight-six engine gives 130bhp
And, yes, I did once own a 164, a carburettor automatic complete with a column shift, that I sold to a friend so I could buy him out of a Flaminia.
It was dull but in a smooth and pleasant way and, unlike the Lancia, it never broke down, which just about says it all.
Images: John Bradshaw
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