ClassicLine’s resident road tripper, Ben Coombs, enjoys a leisurely pace as he recounts a recent nostalgic camping adventure in France over the Easter weekend accompanied by two 1980s luxury classic cars…
When it comes to substantial luxury motoring, the 1980s were hard to beat. I don’t mean from a purely technological perspective, for a modern Mercedes S-class is surely way ahead of its 40 year old grandfather, but from the inherent rightness that cars possessed back then. Take BMWs, for instance – the peak of the 5-series powers may have been reached in the early 2000s with the E39 model, but nothing can beat an ‘80s E28 for pure character and presence. You can surely picture the Rover SD1 of the ‘80s in your mind’s eye, but can you so easily conjure up a mental image of the 800 which followed it? Unlikely, unless you’re a complete enthusiast. Those big old 1980s cars had a real presence and style which is lacking today – simple, cleanly cut lines, simple, thoroughly engineered mechanicals, blissfully screen-free interiors and an air of fix-it-yourself dependability which is completely lacking in modern metal.
As far as cars are concerned, the 1980s were great.
So, when myself and Fraser – owner of the Range Rover which recently accompanied Daisy the Mini to Chile – were planning to meet up with friends on a campsite in France over Easter, there was one logical choice when it came to which cars to take. Namely, our ‘80s barges – the ClassicLine-sponsored Volvo 240, and Fraser’s W123 Mercedes, coincidently also insured with ClassicLine Insurance too. Both represent models which sold in the millions in that decade of excess, and both came to find a prominent place in so many people’s memories. So different in many ways, despite being closely linked by age and purpose, the two barges made for a fine sight as they rolled onto the ferry to Brittany.
The following morning, as we got stuck into the 300-mile waft across France, we took stock of our little convoy. And quite a slow convoy it was – 60 to 65 miles per hour was a comfortable cruising speed, and at such a velocity both cars were in their element. Suspension expertly designed for long-legged cruising and torquey engines with reasonably high fifth gears made for quiet and relaxing progress along the autoroute across France.
Despite both being firmly rooted in the decade of excess, it quickly became apparent that our two steeds were leaning in different directions. The Mercedes, all chrome trim, bouncy seats and old-school carburetion, was clearly still looking back to its ‘70s beginnings, while the fuel injected, blacked-out Volvo was willing the ‘90s to come along. Hell, it even has anti-roll bars and tells you off if you don’t wear a seat belt. The two cars were the bookends of the ‘80s, and our convoy all the more interesting for it.
And both were unfailingly practical, too. On arrival at the campsite, the Volvo’s cavernous boot offered up a bell tent, complete with wood-burning stove, chimney, furniture and all manner of other pieces of camping and climbing equipment. You can cram a lot into a ‘240, even if it’s not the legendary estate version. And the Merc didn’t exactly lag behind in the practicality stakes, either.
For two weeks, these two 40-odd year old machines, and the tents they’d carted out to France, were our home. They proved perfectly happy cruising around the leafy lanes of Fontainebleau Forest, popping into villages on baguette runs and rolling on down to the Carrefour for cheese. And by virtue of their uniqueness, they made every drive an experience, and added to the holiday as a result. For many people, the car that takes them to and from their vacation is merely a necessary tool, a unit of transportation whose involvement is quickly forgotten after the trip. For us however, these barges had added another layer of satisfaction to our break, facilitating a bank of memories made and experiences had which simply wouldn’t have occurred had we made the trip in something more modern.
Two weeks after arriving, it was time to leave the campsite, reform the autoroute convoy and head home. And once again, cruising along, the sheer ‘rightness’ of these two cars, covering the miles together, was apparent. They may feel as if they’re from different ends of their decade, but they still worked beautifully together, creating memories which were more than the sum of their parts. And as we waited to board the ferry back to the UK, the predictable question was raised – the question of which is best. But it’s a question which can’t be answered, as when brought together, their differences are their strengths.
To paraphrase an old Top Gear episode, on this occasion we had to agree, they were both the best.
