There are two old school coupes that I have long coveted and would dearly love to experience ownership of sooner rather than later.

Because ‘later’ would prove slightly more physically problematic, acknowledging my advancing years and the inescapable fact that both vehicles are ostensibly – and as mooted above – coupes. As the human body matures, entering/exiting low-slung coupes can become a daunting, almost insurmountable prospect. Both to your more fragile vertebrae and any lingering sense of dignity. 

One of these is the sixth-generation Honda Accord Coupe, whilst the other is the subject of this awkward, some might say clumsy piece of copy. Namely the Volvo 480 in all of its guises.

Which were only ever twofold.

The entry-level ES and the Turbo. Plus a few special edition models based on the same powerplants.

The Volvo 480 and I; well, we have unfinished business, you see. I say ‘unfinished’. Largely un-started business, if I gloss over the overtly lengthy intro and fundamental reason I crave one of the weirdest – and most unexpected – automotive forays Volvo ever took.

It Was Weird In 1989. As Was Art Student Me…

It was weird in 1989. And the passage of time hasn’t made the Volvo 480 any less so.

It was the Lyle Lovett to Julia Roberts’ R32 Skyline, if I’m being era-specific.

Itself not exactly a Porsche 964, yet still vaguely pleasing on the eye if you squinted like you would if you were driving towards the winter sun. And therefore the polar opposite of how people perceived the wedge-shaped Volvo.

First of all, there was the not altogether imprudent question of what it was supposed to be?

Yes, it was a car, we got that. But what genre was it?

And remember the late-1980’s was a time long before the dawn of sub-genres which defied parody. Including such chestnuts as the ‘convertible crossover’. Nissan Murano CrossCabriolet, we have you in our crosshairs in this paragraph.

All we wanted to ascertain back in 1989 was the following.

Was the 480 a hatchback, a coupe or possibly even a shooting brake? Along with estate cars and agricultural 4×4’s, that was your lot as it were.

I say, all, but in reality there were so many more questions we could pose. 

Like; “Hey Volvo! Why wait until now for your first front-wheel-drive production car?” And ; “Hey Volvo! What demographic of car owners are you pitching at here?”

Just to be clear, the exclamation marks don’t denote me raising my voice.

However, the only thing everyone could agree on from the outset was that the 480 was different. Very different. Not so much a departure, as much as a total leave of senses-taking by the hitherto unbending Swedes.

Although Volvo did have previous when it came to wrong-stepping us with the introduction of the stunning P1800 some three decades earlier. Yet there was pretty much universal agreement over the elegant and timeless aesthetics of the grand tourer from the get-go. Whereas the debuting of the 480 was met with a chorus of ‘WTF’s’. Although we were still a decade or so away from txt language, but, if you really want to go there….STFU, OK?!

Flock Of Swedegulls

In 1989 I myself was an impoverished art student with ideas above my station, and Flock of Seagulls-inspired hair sat atop my creative bonce. Yet I was also a car guy.

Which admittedly made for strange bedfellows.

Creative types generally weren’t that into cars, whilst car peeps viewed arty types with a whole Snap-On tool station full of suspicions. 

But I had steadfastly refused to be pigeonholed throughout my school years, and was damned if I was going to be stereotyped then and there. Despite my wardrobe choices, I courageously straddled both camps. 

As did my new-found first year art school bestie, Niklaus. 

Meet Swede Jobs

Niklaus – or Nik for short – was actually bona fide Swedish. As Swedish as ABBA and meatballs, and he was fuck cool. Which was quite the achievement, given he looked like a young Seb Vettel; if a young Seb Vettel was completely bald.

Dressed nearly always in head to toe black, Nik was less goth, more sophisticated architect on account of the never-ending selection of rollnecks. The Swedish Steve Jobs.

Swede Jobs, if you like. 

His dad was employed as a real architect and hence why his family had relocated to England, if memory serves. 

Nik was a very fastidious and ergonomically-considered young man, in terms of his sense of style, approach to Graphic Design and taste in passenger transport. Although the 480 Turbo he attended Wirral Metropolitan College’s Arts Facility in was his mum’s. She just didn’t need access to it certain weekdays, so he was allowed to. 

Because we struck up a friendship (and he lived in the next town to me) ensured that before long Nik would ask if I wanted a lift home. To save me using the Huggins contracted coach that was laid on for local-ish students back then. Which resulted in all occupants locked into Atlantic 252 and being driven homeward by a revolving door policy of bored/angry early retirement-aged men who forgot to tell their eyes to reserve ill-informed judgement on male art students.  

I won’t lie.

The very first time I clapped eyes on Nik’s (mum’s) Volvo 480 Turbo I wasn’t quite sure what I was looking at.

I mean, in profile it was sleek. And deathly black. And with a clear drag co-efficient of approximately 0.34. Which in 1989 was no mean feat. 

And from the front elevation, it had a bonnet which appeared to out-Capri a Ford Capri when addressing length. From its hind quarters, there was a definite minimal vibe too. With a glass tailgate paying homage to the classic 1800ES. Or the shooting brake iteration of the P1800 if you really need telling.

Oh, and then there were the POP-UP HEADLIGHTS!

Pop-Up Headlights Trump Everything

When I was younger, much younger, arguably the most important feature of any car was whether or not it had pop-up headlights.

If it did – yet it was perversely masquerading as a Mazda 323F – it was still forgiven. Shocking as that may sound. Simply because pop-up headlights trumped every other design or mechanical flaw. It just did. Even over louvred rear windows and vinyl roofs.

On the inside the 480 was all individual bucket rear seats and a hi-tech digital dash; designed as an integral part of Volvo’s forward-thinking ‘Galaxy’ project. 

Yet I digress.

Where Was I?

It was a lunchtime, anyway.

When I first witnessed the 480 up close and personal in the metal. And Nik was insisting I’d join him for a quick spin to the shops. Even though it would have been quicker to walk there, given the shops were at the end of the road the arts facility was on, and there was an elaborate one way system between us and the shops. 

Before any of this though, there was the trivial matter of me attending a police ID parade at the even closer regional police HQ.

To clarify, students were often tempted to make up numbers in ID line-ups in exchange for skiving some of the more boring lectures and beer money. Which was an interesting distraction right up until the juncture an old lady who had been mugged only days earlier by my doppelganger points at you with a sage nod of the head. Mercifully, my Illustration tutor provided a cast iron alibi in the event and I was allowed to leave without so much as a caution. 

Awaiting outside was Nik and his (mum’s) 480 Turbo.

Quite an apt get-away vehicle as it transpired a few minutes later as the aerodynamic Volvo (previously an oxymoron if ever) hit very un-Volvo-like speeds of forward trajectory as we hurtled in the general direction of McDonald’s. Seemingly as the proverbial crow flew. And once the local constabulary had escorted me off their premises.

Cred or Dead

Courtesy of the fact that the Volvo 480 Turbo was imported – along with Nik and his family – from Sweden, meant that the steering wheel was situated on the left hand side. Whereas I, as a willing passenger, was ensconced on the right hand side.

So, to the untrained eye, it looked for all intents and purposes to the casual observer that it was indeed me piloting the car. And probably most likely to be the owner of it too.

Which almost singlehandedly restored street credibility which had shouldered a terrible knock earlier that day, as I chose to pair purple Reebok shellsuit bottoms with a dark blue River Island blazer (complete with cuffs rolled-back to the elbow). 

A Student Hooked On Adrenalin, Nowt Else

It was only the second time ever that I had been hit with a curious –  if not, heady and intoxicating – mix of both instant adrenalin and equally as sudden apprehension, when finding myself in the confines of someone else’s car.

The first time was an old school friend’s bubble-arched, pinto-engined Mk 1 Ford Escort driven with teenage exuberance (and scant regard for appropriate insurance cover) down a rural B-road. 

Suffice to say I was smitten.

With the Volvo 480 Turbo that is. Not the araldited Essie. 

After a few weeks – and several enthusiastically-driven lifts home in his (mum’s) 480 Turbo – Nik and I grew apart.

Spare us your tears.

There was always an inevitability that things would turn out thus. The evidence was unavoidable. His clean-cut IKEA principles for living were a stark contrast to my own maximalist, almost chaotic approach to life and times. Plus I valued my shambolic existence, as haphazard and uncoordinated as it was and still very much is. 

Where Nik would carefully construct a ratio-perfect, deft model of a local church from cardboard and various other intricate materials, I on the other hand would have priceless artefacts blown out from the neck-stump of a decapitated Marie Antoinette as my creative response to designing a graphic poster advertising the Lady Lever Art Gallery.

We were very much on different paths.

But Back To The Car….

It’s true.

During the intervening years I’ve owned vehicles with significantly more performance available via the loud pedal normally situated in close proximity to my right foot. With the 480’s bigger/longer brother, the 850 in full-blown loon T5 estate form one such memorable example.

And then there were the Subaru Impreza’s, twin-turbo’d Celica’s and rocket-powered Mini Cooper’s.

But I never forgot that particular Volvo, and often wonder what became of it. If I could remember the vehicle registration plate I’d input it into the DVLA website to determine if it still has a current MOT.

Because that’s how I rock.

It had promptly gained a foothold in my car heart. Had unwittingly become an itch I had to scratch. And I still don’t even know why. Not really.

After all, it’s very much a Marmite car.

And similar to the iconic DeLorean DMC-12 was/is a car which looks like it should deliver a lot more thrills and spills, engineering-wise than it’s capable of mustering. And the 480 doesn’t even have a legendary movie to bolster its enduring appeal. Against all the automotive odds and naysayers. And a ready conduit to our childhoods. 

Here And Now. And Then

Fast-forward to 2026 and only this time last year (so that’ll be 2025) I was THIS close to acquiring my very own 480.

Not, alas a Turbo, rather an ES. And with only one of its pop-up headlights seemingly operational. Meaning I’d be driving around in a perma-winking car. If only the vehicle I had my eye on was capable of being driven.

I saw it as more of a project. As did the seller.

‘Recommissioning’ being one of the words bandied around during our frank conversations.

It was black though. And was being sold with at least three flat tyres and minus most of the glass typically located in the rear hatch. It ‘might’ have been a bargain at £400. It probably wouldn’t have been. But I’ll never know because I bottled it.

Yeah, I bottled the one and only chance I’ve ever had of owning a 480. The closest I’ve gotten to reconnecting with one of the cars which turned my head as an easily-impressed art student who otherwise relied on looking like a career criminal to make up the student grant shortfall. 

Interesting Volvo 480 Facts. Could Be Interesting. Likely, Not

As the years have passed, I’ve mellowed.

And subconsciously gravitated more towards the green-over-champagne exterior body colour, rather than perpetually obsessing over the black.

Although people who populate Volvo online forums describe this more as Peacock Green over Smoke Silver. As well as the pithier, Turquoise and Silver.

This lends an air of suburban charm to the overall aesthetic in my opinion and was officially a limited edition ES model variant according to knowledgeable nordic folk. 

Right, I’m going to leave you with a few Volvo 480 facts. Which may or may not interest you…

DID YOU KNOW?…

Volvo even considered a 480 convertible. Which tragically never venturing beyond the realms of a concept car. 

Also, Volvo’s original press ad campaign for the 480 was very punchy at the time. Photographed next to a Ferrari F40 and waxing lyrical about how the 480’s top speed was ‘more than adequate’.

And asking where exactly the driver would find themselves if they opted for the Ferrari with its additional 78mph top end. Implying jail, as the most likely destination. 

Like I said; punchy. And VERY 80’s adland. 

Finally….

What about you?

What car have you always coveted which you got precious close to bagging?

Which car tops your hit list?