Our family got our first Volvo wagon in 1990, the same year we got our first dog. The car was Swedish and black, the dog was Swiss and also black. We updated the wagons every few years and the dog less often. Now it’s hard to imagine our life without either. 

We drove Saabs before that and then moved on to their countrymen. It’s been a beautiful relationship. My dad is partial to his Volvo SUV, but I still hold fast with a wagon (also black, as it happens). Though my mom had a 1956 Amazon, before my time, something I wish was still in the picture. 

I was just in Sweden and there were Volvos everywhere—even the cabs are Volvo wagons, for goodness sake. One day I drove past a vintage rally of old Volvos and felt like I was in my spiritual home. It was delightful. At Volvo HQ in Gothenburg I got to see a lot of old cars and realized I had stronger connections that I realized—even the interior door handles, a vertical lever that goes from right to left, was etched in my mind, and the shape of gently rounded locks.

My feeling about cars is like my feeling about watches: Align yourself with something you enjoy and feel good about, then stay in for the long haul. Cars (and watches) should be a family affair, passed from one generation to another. I think I’ve always responded to Volvos because of their unique design that manages to be very human—these cars were made to be driven every day by families (with their dogs!), not just collected and admired and stored in a garage. 

I’m not up to date on the latest cars—I still like dials—and am intimidated by the screens and technology. Anyway, the good people at Volvo let me borrow a SUV and drive it up through Sweden and into Norway. It was a bit like watching a high definition television after languishing on ye olde analog. 

This 2023 XC90, (the T8 if you’re getting filthy), was so much fun to drive. I’m not going to use the right language and I don’t need to, it’s like when you have a really good aged rum and you think, Yes, this is just what I want. Strong acceleration when I had to pass some languishing Norwegian camper on a straightaway, close handling on turns, smart Google maps on the dashboard that made getting around so easy. To my surprise it didn’t even feel that big. I started to imagine a future outside the wagon. Though I don’t want to get crazy just yet. 

They were kind enough to let me drive a 1970 wagon around the Volvo campus. Which is sort of like watching an old concert video of your favorite band and being reassured that they still rock. Once I got used to the manual transmission—there were a few amateur shifting maneuvers by yours truly—I couldn’t stop smiling. This car is perfectly maintained by true experts and meant to be driven. I felt a connection to a place, an approach to design and a way of thinking. You can’t ask for more than that.