I love my Volvo. It’s a 1987, white, 740 model that’s been in my family since, well, 1987. You see, my parents bought the Ovlov when I was still in grade school. It was the first new car we had bought since moving to California from Texas. I learned to drive on that Volvo. It dropped me off at school and dances, took me shopping with mom, and to my boyfriend’s house during the summer. Since our other vehicle was a truck that only fit two, the Volvo was our main mode of transportation. When my parents decided it was time for a new car, they went back to the Volvo dealer last year and shipped the old Ovlov to me and Kevin.

Of course, I didn’t always love the Volvo. I attended a private school set in the affluent hills of Palos Verdes. My mom worked at the school so we got a break in tuition. I remember when my friends began to turn sixteen, driving became the rage. Everyone seemed to be getting these little red sports cars – CRX, Preludes, Integras. When I turned sixteen, I got to drive the Volvo. I think I was the only person who had to borrow the family car to go anywhere. Either that or bum a ride. It seemed everyone else had their own set of wheels. I didn’t really mind it back then. Since everyone had a car it was easy enough to find someone willing to pick me up. I was the ultimate passenger person.

I remember after Heather got her license, she came to pick me up for the first time. I think I was her first passenger. Before hopping into her car, my mom requested that Heather pass another driving test. Only this time, my mom was sitting in the front seat while Heather drove her around our block. I guess she didn’t run any stop signs because my mom let me take off with her. Heather was always really cool about picking me up to go places and she never minded swinging by my house.

But in high school, the Volvo just wasn’t cool. I always felt a little strange pulling up in my four-door squeaking family car. Everyone else would hop into their little new cars are race off while I was left behind. Lets just say 740 Volvos aren’t known for their rapid acceleration. On the flip side, I never got pulled over for speeding either and my mom felt very safe knowing if there was a crash, I was in the old safety box car.

But now, I have a new found respect for the Volvo. Now, I am the envy on my friends. The Volvo, with its leather seating and seat warmers, is a favorite. Four doors with plenty of head and leg room, we find ourselves preferring the old Volvo to my little Civic. Sure, it doesn’t go as fast but you don’t have to contort yourself to get in or out of it either. And Kevin, in particular, has fallen in love with the Volvo. He even has a special pair of sunglasses he keeps in the car because he thinks he looks cool wearing them and driving the Ovlov. And the compliments! People just love the old 740.

It’s been the perfect car so far but the other day, the heater fan stopped working. After our plumbing triumph, we are going to try and fix it ourselves this weekend. But this time, we have my dad’s cell phone number just in case we need advise from an expert.

I can’t imagine not having that car and sometimes, late at night on a long road trip, as I nod off to sleep in the passenger seat, I can almost see my dad driving next to me and my sister asleep in the back seat just like always.