Brotherhood of the Traveling Volvo 240: Winning Hagerty’s Classic Volvo Giveaway

“If you don’t know how to get to Cape Elizabeth, just follow the next Volvo you see.” In the 80s and 90s, the residents of my hometown were often mocked for their fierce Volvo loyalty. It has become a badge of honor that I wear, and my loyalty knows no bounds.

Decades of that loyalty, along with winning Hagerty’s classic Volvo giveaway contest, led me to the most curious of adventures to receive the grand prize. First, I drove four hours to Vermont for a wedding, then an hour to the airport, flew three hours to Minneapolis, had a two-hour layover, followed by another three-hour flight to Spokane. And alas, it was Volvo time where I met Griff, the gentleman generously giving me the 240 and Sam, the Hagerty journalist who made this incredible contest a reality.

Through the hotel doors I see it in person for the first time. My jaw drops a bit. It’s finally mine. Given my awe you’d probably think I was admiring a Lamborghini Countach. Nope, I am reuniting with an old, and dearly missed friend. After a few obligatory pics, I get in. It’d been more than a decade since I had driven or even rode in a 240, and the visceral familiarity comes roaring back.

Griff pulls out and we’re off. Taking it all in, I notice that the interior side door map pockets, which were kicked off my former 240 quite easily, are remarkably intact; However, both the dash and windshield are cracked. Perhaps they’re mere battle scars of a vehicle that has achieved 260k miles in its 32 years – outlasting other vehicles many times over.

En route, I tell Sam how I used to watch him on “Proving Grounds” Sunday nights on NBCSN. Griff chimes in, “So did I, and my mom too!” Sam exclaims, “So you were the three viewers!”

The first stop is Griff’s childhood friend Sean’s place where we pull into a typical suburban American neighborhood that reminds me of the street Kevin Arnold lived on in The Wonder Years. Soon we are in for a surprise and discover a four-car garage tucked behind his house. As with any garage, the toys inside are most of the fun.

And the (Honda) Beat goes on...

First up is Sean’s first gen Mazda MX-6 and one of his two FJ cruisers, but then it is on to the real (JDM) stars starting with a Mazda Familia GTX (known as the 323 on our shores). Though a small hatchback, the Familia looks like a crossover relative to Sean’s Honda City and even tinier Honda Beat. We each select our vehicle for the 45-minute drive to the dinner and we’re off.

Honda City

Naturally, I get the Volvo. After all, that’s why I’m here in the first place. My foot gets caught a little bit between the floor mat and the accelerator and I am already nervous. I am also driving it for the first time in a place I have never been, in rain, at night, and the defogger is struggling – so much for Volvo visibility.

Taking up the caboose in our four-car caravan, I feel like an ant compared to the modern American cars – especially the pickup trucks barreling by. However, I simultaneously feel like a monster compared to the Beat. Nevertheless, I was scared.

“Okay, this is how it would end,” I kept saying to myself. Already feeling like my “mancard” will be revoked for taking the only nonmanual option, my insecurities are growing intense. I am driving an automatic, lefthand drive car, while the other three are all in righthand drive manuals. The sky keeps getting darker and the rain is relentless.

All I can think of is:

“How am I going to drive this back?” and simultaneously

“Sam has been up for 20 hours and I doubt he’s complaining.”

Pulling up to dinner is a relief and yet I am nervous about getting home. Sam immediately gets me on record for my first driving impressions and I try my best to mask the nerves. We’re warmly greeted by Griff’s family who seems equal parts excited and perplexed about my love for/willingness to take this car.

Winning a contest sponsored by people I have never met, traveling 3000 miles to a place I’d never been, is all out of my (and most people’s) comfort zone. Yet once I got on the road back from the brewery, things clicked. I was home. As cliché as it sounds, “Home is wherever I am with you” and the “you” is the 240.

Surrounded by the JDM hot hatches with the Beat behind me, I am transported to 1990s Japan. Watching Sam take the corners, you could tell he’s having a blast. As we line up at a stoplight, an early 90s Dodge Dakota pulls up beside me and it dawns on me, “This isn’t Japan, it’s America.” But on account of my company, I am still not sure if it is 2022. I don’t want to blink again only to open my eyes and lose that fleeting connection to my favorite era.

Later at the first bar, Griff and I are excitedly asking Sam behind-the-scenes automotive questions. They do last call. Sam has been up for almost 24 hours. I feel bad that we’ve kept the guy out so late when he shocks me by saying, “Try another bar?”

We come upon The Satellite which is both a bar and a diner - kind of a dream. Griff recommends the fries which were tempting until I spotted $1 brownie bites on the menu. I suggest we order some and luckily the guys oblige. Satisfied with the first round, we order even more. The side of whipped cream was a nice touch.

Bonding over cars with brownie bites after having just won a Volvo. Anyone who knows me, knows this is my life’s pinnacle.

In a lot of ways, I find the 240 relatable. Though racing intrigues me, I’m no speed demon muscle car lover. I followed the rules, never drank in high school, and was drawn to Volvo as a brand for its safety and practicality. I was probably the only 16-year-old who cared more about the IIHS crash test rating than the car’s styling or horsepower. In a lot of ways, it was isolating. One, being a car guy when my closest friends were Tom Brady-crazed sports fanatics, and two, being a car guy who was more drawn to station wagons than to Tom Brady’s Aston Martins.

This contest’s mere existence made me feel like a winner long before the result was announced – because I realized how many more of us there are that admire the less conventional, non-“poster cars.” The icing on the cake is that I made friends in the process.

Griff’s generosity along with that of Sam, and Hagerty in making this all possible is analogous to that of the 240. Some people might lend a helping hand and some cars might last 10 years. But Griff was willing to give his car away, and 240s last long past 30 years (I hope).

In my senior year of high school English class, we were assigned a 3-D self-project. I naturally made a scaled version of a 240 Wagon out of foam board. Recovering from wisdom teeth extraction, I spent my entire February break on it – it even had an opening tailgate and roof rails. It was covered in Mark Twain quotes, Maya Angelou poems, and Joni Mitchell lyrics along with an “Owner’s Manual” for the essay portion.

I forget exactly what my 18-year-old self wrote, but it had to do with being tested, dependable, and working hard. As I reflect 16 years later, I’ve realized that as much as I’d like to say I resemble a 240, the resilience and endurance of the 240 is more my inspiration. They have had more second acts than most cars (and people) could ever dream of.

Around 2015, Mazda debuted one of my favorite car commercials to launch their “Driving Matters” slogan. Titled “A Driver’s Life,” it shows one man’s automotive and personal history from a high school student with a Miata to driving a Mazda 3, 6, and eventually a CX-5 in parenthood. It concludes with him getting behind the wheel of the latest MX-5 Miata and the voiceover reads, “Now in the garage, something new reminds you of when you were you.” While the 240 is only “new to me,” it brings me back to who I am and gives me a sense of pride that’s been missing from my current daily driver.

There’s something about returning to your roots. While I have appreciated countless classic cars over the years, I’m not sure that I could fully empathize with the owners – the ones that held onto old cars because of their heart and not their head. Now, I get it. For me, it’s the 240. For others, it’s the Porsche 911 they always dreamed of or perhaps a 1965 Mustang.

When Griff dropped me off at the airport in the 240, we added the Maine plates to it. I’d known the car for less than 24 hours and yet, I knew I was going to miss it for the next two weeks as it shipped solo across the country. Separation anxiety was already setting in, I felt like a parent sending their kid off to camp for the first time. While it will be yet one more Volvo in Cape Elizabeth, this 240 already has quite the story, and to quote Natasha Bedingfield, “The rest is still unwritten."