1990 240, B200E - Scotland, UK Topic is solved

[callumalden]

Willing to delivery anywhere in the UK or mainland Europe if you do not mind paying towards the fuel! She is ready for the next custodian, I am far from thrilled to be selling my 240. Needs must.



VIN YV1245243L1860202
Car Model Volvo 240 GL
Body shape 5-Doors
Model year 1990
Factory code 1
Power 2.0 86kw / 117 cv
Chassis No. 860202
Engine type 2.0L L4 8V RWD
Engine type B200E
Transmission M47

Short list of parts replaced:

• Feb 2024 - New Fuel Tank & Pump, New Timing Belt

• Nov 2023 - New Fan Blower Motor, New Exhaust (Down-pipe, Middle, Rear), New Cold Start Hose, NSF Door Lock Actuator

• Oct 2023 - New Break Pads, Fuel Filter, Tie Rod Ends, Thermostat, Spark Plugs

• July 2021 - New Spark Plugs

• April 2021 - Remanufactured Steering Rack, New Radiator Hoses, Thermostat, New Rear Break Callipers, New Break Pads & Hand-break Shoes

• Mar 2020 - New Ignition Coil

• Aug 2019 - New Tyres

• May 2019 - New Headlights, New Alternator, New Rear Wiring Harness, Remanufactured Wiper Pumps

• Feb 2019 - New Rear Suspension & Springs

• Oct 2018 - New Exhaust (Middle, Rear), New Ignition Amplifier

• Aug 2017 - New Battery, New Timing Belt, New Suspension Bushes, New Break Pads & Hand-break Shoes, New Water Return Pipe

There is a problem with the steering rack, caused by over-tightening the low-pressure return hose at the banjo bolt, the remanufactured rack from trans_meddings was never quite right. Would be worth replacing. Part No. 34004828 RH (Original was 34007138 RH). There are two bumps, one to a wheel arch caused by a friend slooowwwwllllyyy reversing into her last October. A series of odd bumps on the Nearside Rear Passenger door caused by an apparently friendly little tup who did not like his own reflection.

More details at: https://www.gumtree.com/p/volvo/volvo-2 ... 1487571864

I am asking 3999 GBP.

Currently in Spain, will be back in the UK early November. If you would like to know any more get in touch, or if I could improve this ad (this was my first car, I have never posted a car advert before!) let me know.

Thanks!

[matthew1]

(this was my first car, I have never posted a car advert before!)

Very pretty 245! How long did you own it? Just curious, obviously I can't buy it and have you drive it to Colorado.

[callumalden]

Goodness me, its you... it is actually @matthew1! Firstly, thank you so so so so much for setting up this site. I have been lurking for years, it is an invaluable resource and you run a fine ship. Thank you.

Here's the full story.

I've owned the "old lady" since 2017. She was my first car. Bought without a license, I was 30. The car was purchased from a lovely man called Roy in Edinburgh's Southside (hello if you're out there Roy!). He was using the 240, "a real motor car" he called it, to allow him to tour with his double bass. He was in a jazz quartet and they gigged around the UK and Northern Europe. He was extremely fond of the car. He had a gigantic labradoodle which was the first creature to ever sit in the rear passenger seats he told me. He bought the car from the son of the original purchaser and when Roy first took possession of the car the back seats had never been sat on! He said it was a museum piece. His gigantic/excitable dog first attacked the centre console and then gnawed at a few of the door handles for good measure.

Roy loved his motor car, but had just done a deal on a stunning duck-egg blue Citroen DS. His wife (a learner driver) put her foot down and had said "only one classic!". The 240 had to go.

Back in 2017 I knew nothing about cars, the 240 made me feel quite cosy as it was a similar model to a number of childhood Volvos we owned (240/740s). My father, a motor mechanic of 40 years gave categorical advice when I discussed the used cars I had seen advertised: "If that Volvo 240 is still available, that's the one".

Why was I buying "a real motor car" as a first vehicle? in 2017 I was sick of my job and sick of my country (following a decision of the UK to leave the EU... I decided to rejoin the EU). My (ex)partner (a Cloggie Dutchwoman) was keen to pack up a van and drive to Portugal where I was told we would live like kings and eat sardines lightly barbecued, washed down with sparkling young wines, get slowly and evenly toasted by the sun and never worry about anything ever again. I was keen, she was less keen to drive. I said I would... oh, and we would need a car.

We gave notice on our rented home, I gave notice at my office and set "leaving date" with them a month before we were to leave... counting down to August 29th when we had to be out of the house and on the road. Financially things were super tight. I was also establishing my own e-commerce company at the time, going self employed, immigrating, learning to drive.

We needed to pack the car full. We flogged the furniture but needed to take two "studios" on the road and a wee dog called Flynn.

The 240 was "the one" because of the ample space it afforded. Incredible really. And my father had some foresight that I might enjoy doing the occasional flick through the Haynes manual (and matthewsvolvosite.com of course).

The day we (myself an ex-partner) went to view and later collect the 240 I couldn't really drive and had only ever been behind the wheel of a nippy, brand new, utterly responsive Mini Cooper with a completely feckless driving instructor who may have been called Dave... my first lesson was him was in March and I was still there with Dave (the ned) going on August... then I realised, "I am not going to make it". His response was to shrug it off and suggest I do a few more months. I was recommended a proper driving instructor. "Will iDrive", highly recommend anyone who has young people in Edinburgh, send them to Will: https://www.facebook.com/will.idrive.5/.

My new instructor Will did not take any nonsense, understood my deadline was looming, he knew tickets were booked, accommodation was arranged, my life was about to change and I had to pass my driving test, first time, within 20 days without fail or I was not driving anywhere.

In the meantime we went and picked up the 240. Moments after the deal was done I got in the drivers seat. I cannot recall why Cloggie didn't want to drive the thing back to ours. She had a full license come to think of it! I had not told Roy I was a learner driver, I didn't think he'd sell me his precious car if I was honest. Sitting in the car, for the first time, in his driveway I failed to find first gear and there was a lot of polite smiling and muttering under our breaths "oh-please-just-go-back-inside-now-row-arrrrr" as I crunched at the gears, perspiration falling, the smell of clutch sent Roy running towards us, his arm through the window he snapped her into 1st and we were off... made it round the corner to Duddingston Golf Course where I stopped for a small panic attack, attached the "L" plates and read the manual. Cloggie, despite being absolutely sure she had driven a 240 before in another life on the Mull of Kintyre, had no idea whatsoever how to get the thing into reverse. It took us 15 minutes. Quite funny... in retrospect!

Will helped me pass my test. I passed first time, good thing too as booking another test would have thrown our entire plan to emigrate off. Will loved the Volvo and we took it for a spin with him. I am forever indebted. He really was a very good teacher and I will never forget his guidance.

August 29th the car was packed. TO. THE. EFFING. TOP.

Next morning I drove her, very cautiously.. down the road to Yorkshire. There was some delay. I wanted to leave at 12 noon. When Cloggie realised there wasn't room for some left over furniture (Me: "are YOU JOKING!" ) and some well wishers and more and then the new tenants arrived... we left at 4PM. Encountering my very first ever proper motorway junction in the dead of night with, how should we say, less than ideally distributed weight for a 27 year old vehicle... it was a challenging first drive.



Here is my 240 just before leaving Edinburgh (before and after loading).

Bit wobbly but made to the Channel Tunnel, through Belgium and up to the Netherlands (to visit family for a few weeks) then back through the low countries, meanderingly through France, Spain and eventually arrived in a little town in the centre of Portugal. A little town that we pointed at on the map, that'll do right in the middle.

Remember I had held a driving license for less than 10 days before setting out. It really was enjoyable was to learn once I got on those big wide roads. Some photos...



Top Left: arriving in the Netherlands "Wow, you have BP here too!?", note the pretty windmill in the background. Top Right: Making friends in Amsterdam. Bottom Left: French France. Bottom Right: Castile and León, Miles and Miles and Miles of it.

This was the first of several cross-Europe journeys. The Volvo was 131,000 Miles at this point. I enjoyed travelling in the 240 so much. My father and his increidbly knowledgeable, patient and thoughtful neighbour spent a few days on her before we departed. New suspension bushes, timing belt, the tyres were pretty much brand new and the breaks were redone. She was smooth despite the colossal load. Out entire lifes and the pup!

One important install I did myself. I installed the very same Kenwood KRC-387 Stereo and CD-Changer which had been THE stereo in my childhood Volvo 240. Its removable red (or blue) backlit face was the one that looked out at me for all those miles going on father's "magical mystery tours" into the Scottish Highlands as a boy, now here was... on the plains on Castile and León. Wild.

Eventually we made it to Portugal. "Was it all barbecues and sunshine" I hear you ask? Oh yes, but not quite what I expected. Portugal was on fire that summer and we lived for a month surrounded by an evolving bonfire which had, the previous 12 months it turned out, taken the lives of fifty villagers. Mainly volunteer firemen. Terribly sad. Despite meeting lovely people we met some mad people, including our age'd neighbours who, if the fire were to come over the hill were content to go down with the ship. "This is where my parents were born, this was the bed in which I was born, I won't leave here", that kind of vibe puts you on edge. Especially when you might rely on these folks for a little head-start. I remember asking "has the fire ever come over the hill?", the answer I received was proudly given "no, the fire never comes over the hill". The next day the fire came over the hill.

We got in the Volvo, with some of our things, and did what I now realise you must not do in a wild fire. We drove. We drove and we lost phone signal, no data, crazy rural roads... it was not much fun. I thought "head for the coast". That is an easy idea, in reality we found ourselves surrounded by smouldering landscape, not so much roaring fire, just impossibly dark skies and at times no visibility across to the next valley. Scary stuff. Ash fell on the 240 like a volcano was going off somewhere and we found ourselves going in circles for a time, getting held up by road blocks. It was slightly hairy. My good friend Danny back in the UK was on the website of the EU fire satellite service who track wildfires. In the evening he sent me a screenshot of the region.



Top Left: Forest fire map in Portugal, 2017. Top Right: eventually finding the coast, and many other sensible people who had rushed there too. Bottom Left: in a town where everything was blanketed in ash. Bottom Right: A few days later we packed up and left Portugal.

It was a good idea to leave. Cloggie was screaming at me one day that she wanted me to turn the car round and drive back to the Netherlands. I couldn't fathom it. Surely there was something nearby that wasn't a fire risk. I recalled then a Spanish woman I met at a particularly noisy party in Edinburgh a year before, she was an oasis of calm by the potted plants in someone's living room... her name was Oa and would later go on to marry one of my closest childhood friends (who's father owned a very neglected navy blue Volvo 240 which became our play car in the garden)... anyway Oa was from a place just north of Portugal called Galicia, and there it rained a lot. It was green, there were crashing waves and stormy winters. Sounded great. I flicked my DK Eyewitness Guide of Spain to "Galicia" and waved it at Cloggie. She agreed we should give it a go.

Six hours North. I don't remember much of the drive. The huge Rande Bridge outside of Vigo looked just like the one outside of Edinburgh, I remember seeing the monastery of Santiago as I switched lanes. Then it was dark and the lights weren't wonderful with those deflectors on the 240. Then trees. Lots of eucalyptus coming through the air vents (the original fan blower no less).

Got to a hotel. Work up the next morning to find myself back in Scotland.




Okay, Okay... it was an illusion. But this Celtic corner of Iberia has more than a passing resemblance with my homeland at times. It certainly wasn't what I expected "Spain" would ever look like. And shame on me!

It truly was wet and wild and a pretty much perfect for some homesick foreigners who'd left their hearts in the Highlands. Soon felt at home and the Volvo was often commented on by hardy and wise old people who appeared out of their Huertas to meet our curiosity and tell us where this road went or that... (Spoiler: all roads in Galicia lead to a eucalyptus forest). We found ourself to be complete curiosities in our village and people were incredibly helpful and welcoming. We stayed.

Until we left.

Then we returned.

Then we left and returned and then Cloggie left me (she didn't want to return and go back again and return to go back again... again *ahem*).

But I bought Cloggie out of the Volvo and well, here I am. Many year later. Back in Galicia! Where, unfortunately, THEY WILL NOT LET ME KEEP MY VOLVO... without parting with a few thousand Euros that I simply cannot afford.

Goodness me. Did you really make it this far? You must be having a quiet day too! I applaud you. Look here's another photo of the landscape as a reward:




This is not even half the story. This is the intro, when did I buy the car and why is now covered. Haha!

There are more multi-country cross-border moves to recount. There is aiding mountain rescue and the torrential rain that pounded the "old Lady" whilst doing my first accent of the Bealach na Bà, (Applecross pass) in winter, then being (almost) the only person legally allowed to drive around Skye during lockdown, joys of car-camping, the girlfriend with the ex-boyfriend who happened to have a beautiful Volvo 240 (she swore it was a coincidence!), then there are the perils of living in a rural part of Spain with medieval paving, learning how to be a mechanic when someone needs to get to the airport, there was the 1000km dash to get an MOT with an empty bank balance, the time I broke down on the bridge at Arnhem... a bridge too far (for my alternator)... lately having an Asturian strong man lift up the 240 from rear axel, with his bare hands... I haven´t even mentioned last manually operated turntable ferry in the world yet... what memories. "What a laugh!" as my dear and departed uncle Chris would say, he who named my car "the Old Lady". She is for sale, but I hope this gives a flavour of my relationship with my first car, my sadness at having to pass her along is palpable. I really don't want to have to sell her. Any clever thoughts? Hopefully whoever the next custodian will be, will have as much fun as I have.


Here's one during lockdown, when a fortnightly drive to Skye for my Uncle's chemotherapy afforded us the luxury of the most beautiful and totally empty roads in the Highlands, "use the whole road Jobbie!" I can still hear him command.


One last one. Looking back at the MV Glenachulish - the last manually operated car ferry IN THE WORLD! Crosses to the Isle of Skye throughout the summer. I am a trustee of the charity, so I thought I'd get the plug in. We are incredibly RWD friendly! http://skyeferry.co.uk

[matthew1]

Goodness me, its you... it is actually @matthew1!

Callumalden, on occasion I'll address the crowd from my ivory tower. The tower with dirty dishes and laundry that needs washing... and a teenager who needs his school lunch made in the morning... and cats who need feeding... and litter boxes that need emptying... etc. My housekeeper and butler have not shown up for duty here for many years, now that I'm thinking about it. I need to have a word with them.

Firstly, thank you so so so so much for setting up this site. I have been lurking for years, it is an invaluable resource and you run a fine ship. Thank you.

You're welcome. Thanks for joining.

Here's the full story.

I've owned the "old lady" since 2017. She was my first car. Bought without a license, I was 30. The car was purchased from a lovely man called Roy in Edinburgh's Southside (hello if you're out there Roy!). He was using the 240, "a real motor car" he called it, to allow him to tour with his double bass. He was in a jazz quartet and they gigged around the UK and Northern Europe. He was extremely fond of the car. He had a gigantic labradoodle which was the first creature to ever sit in the rear passenger seats he told me. He bought the car from the son of the original purchaser and when Roy first took possession of the car the back seats had never been sat on! He said it was a museum piece. His gigantic/excitable dog first attacked the centre console and then gnawed at a few of the door handles for good measure.

I'll have to take this bit by bit. You've written a fantastically rich account of owning a Volvo. It's not the first and won't be the last but strike me down if this isn't filled to the top with... your fabric of ownership. I can't term it anything but that.

You bought your 240 wagon from a jazz musician who used the Volvo to transport his double bass around the UK and Continental Europe and also travelled around with his large labradoodle in the passenger seat? I don't know if Hollywood could write something this good. Hire a screenwriter because you're halfway to a movie script for a major release starring Julia Roberts, Hugh Grant, and George Clooney.

I'll read the rest and respond tonight or tomorrow.

[BlackBart]

Nice car, great color.

[callumalden]

...you're halfway to a movie script

Thank you for your encouragement. You just gave me an idea @matthew1- how about I crowdfund this as a novel? I could give it a shot! Proceeds could also go towards keeping "the Old Lady" here in Spain... she is essentially my muse for the project.

Related musing- how many other men and women have spent long hours in their sheds or damp garages tackling a complex repair on their favourite car and found themselves - once safely away from the office, daily chores and teenagers - slipping into far off trains of thought; yes you are removing the central console for the millionth time or giving a tie rod end a very precise thud... you are completely "there" in the repair with crumpled Haynes by your side; carefully placing the screws in carefully arranged order... BUT all of a sudden you hear your fathers voice or you remember something Billy said once upon a time about the challenge or single handedly removing the gear box or some and that leads you to unrelated reverences about life and being on the road. You think wistfully about all the corners the tie rod took; in my case I think of precarious switchbacks in rural Spain where these very wheels have some how found there way and back again. I am not alone I take it. Those who raise a hand - you are my target audience. Say Aye.

[matthew1]

I used to go into daydream land working on the suspension of my 850 and V70R, except when I used the impact wrench, then I was very awake.

You're a good writer, you can write the screenplay yourself. For production, I'll help line that up with a phone call to Brad Pitt or Quentin Tarantino... or better yet I'll hop the fence between our backyards and talk with him face to face.

"Yo Quentin! So there's this UK user on my forum callumalden, right, and they're in Spain right now but never mind that my point is they have this 245 that used to belong to a jazz dude with a double bass and a large labradoodle and..."

[callumalden]

Hah; exactly.

...I'll help line that up with a phone call to Brad Pitt or Quentin Tarantino...

Scorcese is a Volvo man, right?