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Do you know that ice cream can be hazardous in more ways than one? It can put you in situations that are difficult to explain. Consider this, it's a late autumn evening; the air is sticky, and humid. You decide that a cool treat is a great idea. Because you have your health to consider, maybe walking to the local convenience store would cancel out the calories. Yeah, right!! So, while waiting in line with your pint of Cherry Garcia, or Rocky Road, you do the wrong thing!!! You begin to leaf through the latest
AutoTrader magazine, (also known as gear-head porno!) and there it is:
"1956 Volvo TP21 Command Car, $2000/OBO, call…" Oh, no!!
"I gotta have it."; "No, too many cars.";
"It's too cool for words."; "No, the wife'll kill
me!!"; "Someone who doesn't appreciate it will buy it.";
"I don't have anywhere to park  it." CBS has returned with a vengeance. Car Buying Syndrome often can be placed in remission, but when you relapse, man, you fall hard!! The need to rescue older Volvos is a sort of missionary calling; one really can't justify another old crate, especially when the driveway is crowded, and the neighbors patience is wearing thin. But, somehow you do the unthinkable; you pick up the phone!! (This is where a "classic car 12-step program," "gear-head intervention," or some appeal to sanity should be used, but it never does!)
Long story short; I became the owner of #304 (of a total of 720????) Volvo Radio car. The price was an offer I couldn't refuse, and another project came home on a trailer! The previous owner (hereafter known as P.O.) was a young man who apparently wanted to see how far Volvo's reputation for durability could be pushed!! He had blown a head gasket on the flathead, inline-6, and then left it in a locked-up garage for almost 10 years. The engine was rusted solid, and mice had used it for a condo (no maid service). The only other people interested in buying were planning to turn it into a street rod. I'm not some sort of humorless Puritan, and it probably would have made an imposing cruiser, but NOT on my watch, thank you very much!! I told him that I was able and willing to restore the Sugga (Swedish for "sow" because of the size, and the well rounded rear), and that convinced him to sell it to me.
Once I got it safely to my place, I began the obligatory (more careful) inspection. It was kind of scary, because I had never owned anything this big! The wheels reached up to my waist, the lug nuts are the size of oranges, and parts aren't available at Pep Boys, or IPD!! Well, after I'd recovered from my buyer's remorse; "What HAVE I done this time?", and started to take stock of my new project, it started to look less scary. The Internet was the first place I turned, and that was very reassuring, with almost a dozen Web sites, parts sources and registries for older (pre-50's, ergo pre-PV Volvos). It turns out that many of the pieces in the Sugga are of U.S. manufacture. The brakes are totally standard 1-inch Wagner bores, the carburetor is a GM Rochester, and the axles are from Spicer. Even the gauges were from Detroit, something I discovered when I replaced the temperature sender. So, I wasn't completely in the dark, and I discovered that there were almost 8 or 10 imported over the years into this country. The real problem turned out to be bushings and bearings for the (frozen) engine. A friend who traveled for business in Sweden returned with the handmade(!)
head gasket I had ordered in Göteborg, strapped into her suitcase. But, the engine looked to be a project breaker, either costing too much money, too much time in tracking down the parts. At one point I even wrote to Mahle Pistons in Germany to see if they could help. They replied that the pistons were obsolete, but they would be happy to run off a special production run, but with a minimum order of 100 sets, that is, 600 pistons!!
Help came in the form of a fellow U.S. Sugga owner, who was unable to resist the customizing bug. He had a spare motor with only 48,000 "klicks" on the clock. Only problem; it was in Portland, Oregon, over 1000 miles to the north. (The quest to get the motor is an epic for another time.)
Anyway, here it is summer, the Sugga is up and running, (well, sort of). The tires are old, rock hard, and I'm having a hard time choosing sizes, and getting them replaced. Two of them are so old that they have "Made in Sweden" on them. The beast still handles like a shopping cart, and has all the maneuverability of a falling safe. The springs are tired, from sitting for so long, but that will wait. The rubber brake parts were all renewed, but the shoes were not. I really have no idea where I could get a replacement drum, if I came under fire. The truck, (because that is what it really is; weighing in at 6300 lbs!) will actually stop, but it isn't modern, by any measure. Wagner, made in America!
The various on board electrics, are mostly German Bosch, or Osram. Switches, and fixtures are from early PV'444s, or bigger Volvos, nice little details, such as the roof mounted blinkers, or the Art-Deco speedometer. All 12-volt, from dual 6-volt batteries, in a wooden box under the right rear footwell. Don't read too much Swedish, so it's: "Let's see what this one does -
click!" Blackout lights for convoy driving, under little shields, how cool is that!! And the hatch in the rear part of the roof makes you want to act out like Montgomery of El Alamein. I get a lot of respectful distance on the road. The real catch for the "look" would be to locate several military bicycles for the rear rack. Might think some more about a surplus Coast Guard signal horn. In any case, I drive it to small meets, or around the neighborhood. I don't quite trust it for any longer trips, but that could change. The motor idles like a well-oiled sewing machine, on new spark plugs, and older points. Had to learn about real double shifting! Didn't touch the carburetor, and I'm not sure that the 70 watt generator is charging the battery. I'm also not too sure what I want to do with it! Maybe I'll write a note to Arnold
Swarzenegger.
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