A 1995 Volvo 960. Supple leather that made long trips easy. Great safety and visibility. It represented what I thought would be the perfect family car.
I financed it quick enough. But then the troubles began.
First the engine coughed up a burnt valve. Took care of that.
Then the strut mounts started to groan a bit. A quick Ebay purchase and a little labor solved that one.
As soon as that was cleared up, the rear hatch door handle stopped working.
Two weeks later the electrical issues began. Erratic turn signals. The rear lights vanished due to a worn out wiring harness. The front lights began to do their own dancing in the dark. That was likely either an ignition switch or a multi-function assembly.
I started to think this car would someday soon be worth far more dead than alive.
At this point I told my customer, “Take this!” which was a Subaru Forester that didn’t give them one lick of trouble. I shucked the Volvo to a nearby dealer auction and chalked the experience to the laws of averages.
You can’t polish a rolling turd and expect to come out ahead. Sometimes cheap isn’t. Which brings me to a question that can only induce shudders and flashbacks to the long-time enthusiast.
Have you ever finally said goodbye to… a money pit? A rolling Beelzebub that swallowed dollars, Euros and parts like Kobyashi swallows hot dogs?
Extra credit will be given if you ended up using a flamethrower, a cliff, or in my next door neighbor’s case, a sledgehammer.