Last week I did something I never thought I would do. I purchased a Volvo. A dirty great big V70 estate – a D5 SE if you like that sort of detail. Our little Skoda Fabia estate was battling to handle the vast array of luggage needed to sustain our two young daughters on any journey further than twenty yards, so I decided to look for something better suited to our needs. Thing is, doing what I do for a living has made me incredibly fussy when it comes to spending my hard-earned…
Within five minutes I had drawn up a list of attributes our new car must have, characteristics that immediately dropped the number of potential candidates into low single figures. Entire vehicle types were instantly dismissed. I didn’t want a people carrier. I don’t have five children and a commercial vehicle license. Nor did I want an off-roader. I live in the South of England, for goodness sake, not in The Shetlands. Apart from occasionally towing our trailer to the tip, why would I need a huge profligate four-by-four?
What I needed – and more importantly wanted – was a big diesel estate. Being a Skoda fan, I briefly considered an Octavia, but reckoned like the Fabia before it, it would soon become too small. Pity we’ll have to wait a few years for the Superb estate. The unreliable French and Italians were shown the back door very quickly, as were commoners like Ford and Vauxhall. Not that there’s anything wrong with the Mondeo and Vectra – they’re excellent cars at doing what they do – but being a snob, I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing two dozen other cars like mine on the way to the shops.
At my price point, getting into anything diesel from Germany meant looking at saggy old boxes with more than 100k miles on the clock. And besides, I reckon the whole Mercedes/BMW/Audi/Volkswagen reliability record is a bit iffy. Something Japanese then. Mazda’s fine 6 just didn’t feel cool enough (told you I was fussy) whereas Honda’s Accord left me cold and a Toyota Avensis left me shuddering.
And then I casually mentioned a Volvo to my wife, knowing how much she liked my former long-term XC70. Amazing. Three years ago, before two children screamed their way into our lives, her derisive laughter at such a suggestion could have been heard in Belgium. Three days ago when I parked a clean, fully loaded low-mileage V70 diesel Volvo on our driveway, she was close to heaven. Funny things, children…
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