The Volvo 240 invaded Portland in 1974 and never left!

  When I’m driving around the West End, I don’t notice the relatively clean streets, tree-lined corridors and well-kept buildings. I notice the unusually large number of Volvo 240s.

  There are the ones that stand out, like the unusually beat-up, rear-bumper-on-the-street white sedan parked on Danforth Street or the primer black GL in the Andrews Square area. The others are all well kept and otherwise nondescript. While especially abundant in the West End, they are everywhere in Portland. So much so, it makes me believe Portland has the largest human-to-Volvo 240 ratio in the United States.

  It makes sense. The Volvo 240 is a lot like us. Our city is old, not perfect, but it always runs - reliably at that. It goes in the snow, but slips a lot without the proper traction. Like when our public services department recycles materials from dismantled areas for new sidewalks, you can easily switch out your own parts with a 240 junkyard victim. (Rest in peace, junk yard Volvos. If you were in Portland, this wouldn’t have happened.)

  Anyone who has ever grown up with, been in or driven the 240 in the rest of the country seem to care a lot less about the 240 than people do here in Portland. Maybe it’s because the people here in their mid twenties to mid thirties, the latest caretakers of the fleet, are letting everyone in on the fact that they now know what the older 240 skippers felt while sailing the streets of the city. The feeling you get when driving these machines is much like the feeling you get living in Portland – A feeling of safety; A feeling that no matter what happens anywhere else, (or in an accident with another car on the road,) everything is going to be okay here.

  Whatever it is, I’m glad to see them all out there. I grew up in a 240 family. There was the maroon 1980 244 DL when I was real little, followed by a silver 86 Turbo. When I got my license, I went on to have a couple of my own. I had an 88 sedan and an 83 2-door DL coupe. I loved them all.

  But as technology improved in vehicles, so too did the safety features. Those of us who started families needed to take advantage of airbags and “latch” systems (car seat fasteners) for little ones in the car. Sadly, we had to relinquish our guardianships to the next generation. Thankfully, the next generation took on the task.

  So the unofficial-Official car of Portland, the Volvo 240, lives on for another ten years. The car that perfectly represents both the city and our feelings for it also occupies its boundaries more than anyplace else. We should make it official and proclaim it on the books. We could have a festival with them all on display lined up and down Deering Oaks. Just think how cool the city seal would look with a 240 flying out of it beneath “Resurgam”!

  So, next time you see a 240 around town, thank the driver. Praise them if they have one with the four headlights. Bow to them if their 240 is even older and has two round ones and denotes the number of doors in the badging. They are preserving part of the street art landscape and motorcar tradition that makes Portland so unique.