Enough pipe-smoking, record-keeping professors bought 1800s to assure a decent supply of well-maintained examples





In 1961, Volvo was Swedish for "stodgy," and a sports car from these practical folks in a cold climate seems about as likely as tailfins on a reindeer. But that's what happened-right down to the fins.
Volvo had attempted a sports car in 1953 when they contracted with Glasspar in the U.S. to build the P1900. Typical of early fiberglass cars, it was basically a shapeless blob with a pig-snout grille and a "flexi-flyer" frame. A total of 68 were built in 1956 and 1957. The reports from testers were appalling, one of whom listed 29 "must-fix" problems. The final straw was when Gunnar Engelau, Volvo's new CEO, took one for a 447-mile weekend jaunt. He reported, "The car shook so much, I thought the doors would fall off," and that was that.
Meanwhile, Volvo was quite successful rallying the 544 and 122 Amazon (based on an early '50s Alfa sedan) and in 1960 they returned to the sports car project-this time using steel.
The P1800, which debuted in 1961, was pleasant but already dated, with fins, a curved side spear, and a split front bumper that mimicked the moustache of cartoon villain Snidely Whiplash. Various sources attribute the styling to Frua but it lacks any of their traditional cues, such as the low belt line and expansive side glass seen in contemporary Maseratis. It does, however, look from certain angles like a Ferrari 250 GT Boano, and if you've ever seen one with the fins removed, it resembles a giant VW Karmann Ghia.
The P1800 grabbed some British TV glamour when it was selected for "The Saint," starring Roger Moore as Simon Templar. The BBC wanted a Jaguar E-Type, but Browns Lane was selling as many as they could make and refused.
Because Volvo lacked production capacity for the new model, they contracted with the British firm Jensen. This was most unfortunate as Jensen cars were assembled to the casual English standards of the time (and still in use today, some would maintain, as evidenced by nightmares on wheels like the Land Rover Discovery) and would probably rust in a Morocco desert.
To save its reputation as the maker of a quality product, Volvo shifted production to Sweden in 1964 after 6,000 cars had been made, designating the improved car the 1800S. The split front bumper stayed in England; only later would it be appreciated, as "Braille parkers" invariably overrode the straight bumper and knocked out the grille.
Mechanically, the car couldn't be more straightforward. Vault-like unit construction, live rear axle, front discs/rear drums, and the howitzer-proof 1.8-liter B18 engine. Road tests put the performance on par with the standard Porsche 356B and Alfa Romeo Giulietta Sprint Normale. Reportedly, it achieved 0-60 in around 13 seconds.
While the Volvo's beefy construction handicapped it against more nimble opposition, its understressed engine and Laycock de Normanville overdrive made it more of a relaxed GT car than the Alfa or the Porsche. The enthusiast press deemed the handling of the car benign, offering plenty of warning at the limit-a perfect sports car for the novice.
The kitschy exterior styling was continued in the interior, which looked more like a 1950s American car with an odd two-spoke steering wheel, plenty of chrome, and highly stylized gauges. Again, this was most out of character for a Scandinavian car but perhaps in keeping with the realization that the U.S. would be the main market. Very Scandinavian, however, were the excellent seats-generally leather-with all of the standard adjustments, plus a rudimentary lumbar feature. Testers also praised the blast-furnace heater.
By the end of the '60s, the 1800S looked like a relic. Exterior changes consisted of a different grille and side trim as the upward side spear was discarded. Mechanical changes improved the car considerably. A two-liter B20 engine, combined with Bosch electronic fuel injection, made the new 1800E the best-performing model, lowering the 0-60 time to ten seconds. There was also a new interior with handsome and comprehensive Smiths gauges, a woodgrain dash, and better ventilation. Alloy wheels became optional. Less happy was 1971's metallic paint option, which looked like a suede shoe in about a year.
In late 1971, the coupe was joined by the 1800ES ("estate"), a kind of sport wagon similar to the then-popular British Reliant Scimitar. Elegant and better balanced with a passable back seat, it outlived the coupe by a year, being the only model available for the last year, 1973. The impending 5-mph-bumper laws of 1974 spelled the end for the 1800s, as there was no way to protect the fragile nose and tail. There was no direct successor in the U.S., though a European update appeared in 1986 in the 480ES sport wagon. This was deemed too expensive to export to the U.S. but sold overseas for six or seven years.
Volvo made strides in rust-proofing the Swedish-built cars and the later they are, the better. Materials are generally durable and mechanical bits (save for the fragile overdrive) are long-lived. Retired teacher Irv Gordon of Long Island, New York, has a documented two million miles on his 1966 1800S-which sounds more like a life sentence-and Jeff Ruffalo of San Diego has 2.5 million miles on his 1965 model, spread over three generations.
Volvo made 47,485 1800s, including 8,078 sport wagons, and enough pipe-smoking, record-keeping professors bought them that there are well-preserved examples out there.
At least one dedicated specialist can supply most needs. In the case of the 1800, it is Don Thibault of www.P1800.com, in Sandwich, Massachusetts. Nearly everything is available either NOS or reproduction-at a price. Since mediocre cars tend to change hands around $7,000 and the world record is near $16,000, you can do the math. Let some other poor sap get into Don's catalog and you buy the fruits of his labors.
The 1800 enjoys a cult following as a durable and attractive alternative to the Saab 96 and Volvo 122S Amazon. It lacks the snob appeal and sophistication of a Mercedes 220SE coupe or a BMW 2800CS, or the verve of an Alfa GTV 2000. However, its baroque styling has a certain charm-my artist brother Jeff has coveted one for as long as I can remember.
The market for the 1800 today remains mostly confined to low-key eccentrics. Unless soccer moms and Joe Six-Packs develop a taste for '50s Scandinavian furniture and Ingmar Bergman films, I suspect that supply and demand are well-balanced.

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