The Volvo 760 was not merely a successor to the smash-hit 200 series — those classic Swedish bricks that are still chugging around college towns, hipster enclaves and crunchy communes from coast to coast — it was a radical shift upmarket for the marque. And it wasn’t universally loved by Volvo aficionados. If Volvos had always been luxury cars, they were a different sort of luxury. Along with Saabs and a few other quirky imports, they appealed to those who prided themselves on being individualists, independent thinkers and so forth (of course, that all of those independent thinkers seemed to gravitate to a handful of models is somewhat ironic).
The 760 was comparatively — gasp — mainstream, and not in a way that immediately endeared it to the faithful. But in our review in the May 9, 1983, issue of Autoweek, we argued that broadening its appeal was a smart move from Volvo and described the new model as “a car that in most ways conforms to the notions and preoccupations of the granola-lovers. Yet, in some ways, it is a car that ignores that crowd, that in some ways openly defies it. The 760 is a car that seems equally at home with earth shoes and work shirts, with wingtips and button downs or with Guccis and gold baubles. It is, in many ways, new ground for a car company that had for so long made its pound of gold almost exclusively from granola.”
It started with the looks; distinctively chunky to today’s eyes, it was actually fairly conservative when judged by the standards of its time. Then there was the turn toward luxury inside. From the fancy climate-control system to power everything, the 760 was decidedly plush. Ultimately, however, the confidence-inspiring and economical (if merely adequate performance-wise) 2.4-liter turbodiesel made the whole package tough to argue with … mainstream amenities in all. Read more in the review below.
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