Unboxy, still good: the Volvo S40 gets its flowers

Arriving in 1996 with a surreal, drum n' bass-laced ad campaign, glowing praise from Italian design critics and a trophy-laden touring car team, the S40 represented less of a change in direction for Volvo and more of a fully-fledged shift in the cosmos. 

Gone was the slab-sided simplicity that characterised Volvos of old. The S40 (and its big-booted counterpart the V40) stood as rakish, low-slung slices of the booming '90s C-segment, with an engine and trim level to suit even the choosiest of customers.

The turbocharged T4 was a demon from 0-60, if not a touch twitchy in corners, while the Mitsubishi-engined GDI models, though sluggish from fourth gear up, proved bulletproof in the long run. Even the diesels were bearable once direct injection became available.

That said, you'd be hard pushed to find many on the move these days. This 2001 model can be found tucked away in Dublin's historic red-brick Georgian quarter, off the road since March of last year.

Its many dings, scrapes, dents and scratches suggest a hard past - the right side in particular's taken quite the hammering, with a broken indicator, a rather incriminating red streak along the front bumper and a thoroughly flattened right rear tyre.

Scruffy S40s used to be quite a common sight up until the last couple of years, their Japanese underpinnings keeping them running longer than any Continental counterparts. 30 years have passed since the model was first unveiled to the public - perhaps it's unsurprising that the last of them are dying out.

Glad I got some Dutch angles in, though. About time.

Tempra tempra

 

It’s easy to forget just how popular Fiat used to be. These days, the company occupies a quaint little niche in the automotive ecosystem - suppliers of bubbly, well-equipped hatchbacks to learners and the middle classes. If there’s ever a car to pass your test in, a 500e or a well-sorted Mk3 Panda is probably your safest bet.

Turn the clock back two-plus decades, however, and you’ll find Fiat poised for a mainstream push. Though the 131 and Regata’s reliability proved iffy at times, the Uno, Tipo and best-selling Panda proved the marque had the makings of a major player. A sleek new mid-size saloon was surely on the cards.

Arriving in 1990, the Tempra was a solid - if predictable - move from the manufacturer. After all, this was a time when the C-segment ruled supreme, and every carmaker had a point to prove and a family saloon to sell.

The Tempra’s impact in Ireland is perhaps more tangible than anywhere else - while the subsequent Marea/Brava/Bravo trio proved popular worldwide, the Tempra found work as an Irish police cruiser, soon scooping our Car of the Year award in 1991.

Seen here in Garda guise (Kinolibrary)

That’s not to say the car was completely without fault, however. A step up from previous Fiat fare it might have been, but electrical gremlins persisted, coupled with poor visibility from the rear and a thirst for oil.

This clearly wasn't enough to put off this Tempra buyer, however - and they're all the better for it. A rather crusty '94 model, it’s been off the road since at least 2011, with the nearby 131 and Croma becoming fixtures of this corner of Bray.

With a 1.9 litre turbodiesel engine under the lid, this Tempra wasn't exactly brimming with pep, only capable of 90bhp upon release. Still, its galvanised construction's worked a treat in the years since, with its only visible rust the result of a large dent on its rear flank.

​It could well be the last of its kind left in the country; though I suspect it doesn’t have long left. Pity.

Dream time (avec Galant)

“Streets I ran in this whole town - backstreets and all, I wanted to leave there...”

Mundanity breeds creativity like nothing else. It’s the same kind of mundanity that led me to start this page - among generations of the same roads, houses and streetscapes, the only thing that really changes is what people drive.

Unless, of course, you keep a 1998 Mitsubishi Galant in the middle of your driveway. I’ve tried to spot this one for several years now, only for my camera to let me down each and every time. In the end, a hurriedly-snapped photograph taken through my car window proved to be the winner.

I like Galants, especially the Mk8. Upon its release in 1996, Mitsubishi had it right -  refining the somewhat cross-eyed look of the previous model and offering an estate version for the first time since 1987.

What resulted was a rakish, low-slung and understated executive cruiser. While it lacked the Teutonic prestige of the 3 Series and C-Class, the likes of the Mondeo, Laguna and the all-new Vectra were surely within its grasp.

You'd think so, anyway - but it wasn't to be. In 2000, 70,000 Vectras were sold in the UK, while Galant sales stalled at 1,900 in the same year. Perhaps it's no surprise that its next generation - the final edition - wasn't sold in Europe at all.

Thankfully, this one remains, and probably will for quite a while. Compared to the above image (taken circa 2022), the greenery has really taken hold - the Galant is now surrounded by weeds, and looks a good deal dirtier than it did three years ago.

Mind you, it had been out of use for some time before that, too. A quick search shows it's been out of NCT since early 2016. Whichever way you cut it, that's a hard stretch to come back from, even for a Japanese car.

That's all. I'm trying to make these a bit shorter, anyway. Less metaphors, you dig?

Swedish heavy metal

It’s been a hot minute - my apologies. Between a raft of college work, commuting and a Boys from the Blackstuff box set, it’s a wonder I’ve managed to get out spotting at all. I’m glad I did, though, as a small sidestreet by Croke Park had this battle-scarred 850 waiting for me.

Sure, the pre-facelift’s arguably better looking, but this one’s still quite the peach, even if it’s been sitting still for over seven years. Stickers in the rear window advertise the long-dead BK Motors and Volvo’s then-new SIPS system (albeit barely), while moss sprouts from every crevice it can. The aerial’s also been snapped off along the way, with only a brave half-inch still hanging on.

Being a bottom-of-the-range 2.0-litre, it wasn’t much of a head turner compared to the curvier Continental offerings from Renault and Audi. That said, it was pretty handy in Super Touring guise; Tom Walkinshaw scored plenty of silverware with his pair of 850s, and no driver could butcher a front row start quite like Rickard Rydell, the Swede converting just four of his 12 pole positions in 1995. 

Rickard Rydell readies himself for lights out, 1995

I’ve always fancied an 850, and I’d gladly put up with any heartbreak if it meant I could snap one up on the cheap. Sadly, not even the murky depths of Marketplace can find one anywhere near me - although residents of Cherbourg can have this cherished estate model for just €250. Race you.

Uno? Of Corsa!

 

Having disappeared from our roads long ago, it’s easy to forget that the Corsa A was ever there to start with. I’m no exception, as I was in a pram the last time I saw one.

Perhaps I’m being a bit harsh, wondering why a budget hatch from 1982 isn’t on every street corner today. Still, it’s an undignified end for what was once a motoring institution, a car that in ten years sold nearly half a million units in Britain. Today, barely 800 Novas remain on UK roads - whichever way you spin it, that’s steep.

What happened to them, then? Max Power has to be a prime culprit - for a while, their output was made up solely of trick Corsas, which were promptly dumped as the scene gave way to good taste in the mid-2000s.

It wasn’t just the lads’ mags though, as late-noughties scrappage schemes also dealt a hammer blow to early Corsas. Not old enough to be desirable, yet not new enough to be worth keeping, it’s easy to see why most of them went this way - stripped, crushed and consigned to the past, like the sundial or Xtra-Vision.

This 88-plate model’s quite the exception, however. Tucked away in a corner of a countryside estate, it’s in strikingly good nick for its 36 years. It’s not quite concourse, with patches of bubbling rust on the boot and sills, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Wicklow registered and bought in nearby Kilcoole, it hasn’t strayed far from its roots either (apart from the Spanish factory it was built in). What’s more mystifying is its NCT - expired since 2017. Honest mistake, or some naughtiness on the owner’s side? I’ll let you be the judge.

Continuing with the theme of long-expired NCTs, I also happened upon this charming 1-litre Fiat Uno, off the road since 2012. Sadly, I couldn’t get much closer, but even from afar, it looked quite the part - right down to the illegible sticker on the rear flank to the smoked indicators, which I'd like to see more of these days.

Time for a Wispa. I’ll see you soon.