2008 Volvo C30 T5 Version 1.0 - And this one is definitely a Volvo, an S40 sedan made over with a butt tuck (goodbye to about 200 pounds and 8.5 inches behind the rear wheels) and all-new clothes. Well, new except for the hood and windshield. Chopping off the tail has the visual effect of exaggerating the front overhang, amplifying the wedge shape created by the beltline rising as it sweeps toward the tail. Under the skin, the hearty T5 turbo 2.5-liter five-cylinder powering the front wheels is the only engine, backed by a six-speed manual or, for $1250, a five-speed automatic.
About that sportswear comment: When you sign up for a sexy looker like this C30, you don’t want to see two or three just like yours clustered about the neighborhood Starbucks. And you won’t—Volvo sells one car here for every three out BMW’s door. This coupe is planned for 8000 annual U.S. sales, about one of every 10 Volvos sold. Of a total U.S. car market of 17 million, we’d say that makes the C30 exclusive, although not rare.
More on the sportswear theme—the C30 is sporty in the manner of sweats from Calvin Klein, not like a Speedo. Stick with the base car—called Version 1.0 on the menu—which comes with 205/50R-17 all-weather Michelins and a suspension calibration that’s softer than Volvo offers on the C30 anywhere else in the world, and you’ll get sure-footed reflexes paired with no-complaints ride smoothness, at least on the acne-free blacktops of the Sunbelt, where we did this test. Tire roar on textured roads was modest but not negligible.
The Version 1.0 for this test had just one option, Brilliant Blue Metallic paint at $475, for an as-tested total of $23,920. Volvo offers a long list of ways to make your C30 more expensive, including a custom-build program in which you ante $300 for a special menu that allows you to pay still more for à la carte items that include 17 exterior and 12 interior color combinations, bixenon headlights, keyless starting, parking assist, navigation, and some things that shouldn’t be so rarefied, such as a six-CD changer, heated seats, and cruise control. Think of this special menu as the fast track to a C30 north of 30 large.
But hang on to your checkbook. We were charmed by the test car, in no small part for its affordability. This is an easy-wearing runabout for two, with good space in back for two more passengers if their inseam doesn’t stretch more than 30 inches. The cloth-and-mystery-material front buckets are bolstered firmly enough to prompt complaints from the broad beamers among us. The frameless glass hatch is pure styling genius, all the better for its echo of Volvo’s P1800 ES of 1971–73.
While we’re tossing bouquets, much of the C30’s joy comes from its coordinated responses. This is a car that knows how to act. The brakes are wonderfully linear in their response, the steering zeros in on “straight down the road” when you cruise, and the throttle is free of the jumpy-jerky hyperactivity that is so tiresome in the pretend-to-be-fast crowd.
The 227-hp T5 is a light-pressure turbo setup, just 0.53 atmosphere at full boost. It doesn’t come on with a lunge; indeed, there seems to be nobody home when you toe into it in fifth or sixth gear at polite speeds. But in the lower gears, the torque ramps up promptly to fold your ears back, romping to 60 in 6.7 seconds, exactly a half-second behind the Mini Cooper S and VW GTI, two obvious competitors. Quarter-mile numbers of 15.3 seconds at 95 mph earn the C30 a spot in our class of spirited performers, but not the fast class.
Out in the twisties, the C30 has a trusty feel, reliable in its responses, predictable, in that sense rather like the GTI, and altogether more relaxed, and relaxing, than the twitchy Cooper S. Grip measures 0.80 g. Expect understeer at the limit. Braking from 70 mph uses up 187 feet.
About that sportswear comment: When you sign up for a sexy looker like this C30, you don’t want to see two or three just like yours clustered about the neighborhood Starbucks. And you won’t—Volvo sells one car here for every three out BMW’s door. This coupe is planned for 8000 annual U.S. sales, about one of every 10 Volvos sold. Of a total U.S. car market of 17 million, we’d say that makes the C30 exclusive, although not rare.
More on the sportswear theme—the C30 is sporty in the manner of sweats from Calvin Klein, not like a Speedo. Stick with the base car—called Version 1.0 on the menu—which comes with 205/50R-17 all-weather Michelins and a suspension calibration that’s softer than Volvo offers on the C30 anywhere else in the world, and you’ll get sure-footed reflexes paired with no-complaints ride smoothness, at least on the acne-free blacktops of the Sunbelt, where we did this test. Tire roar on textured roads was modest but not negligible.
The Version 1.0 for this test had just one option, Brilliant Blue Metallic paint at $475, for an as-tested total of $23,920. Volvo offers a long list of ways to make your C30 more expensive, including a custom-build program in which you ante $300 for a special menu that allows you to pay still more for à la carte items that include 17 exterior and 12 interior color combinations, bixenon headlights, keyless starting, parking assist, navigation, and some things that shouldn’t be so rarefied, such as a six-CD changer, heated seats, and cruise control. Think of this special menu as the fast track to a C30 north of 30 large.
But hang on to your checkbook. We were charmed by the test car, in no small part for its affordability. This is an easy-wearing runabout for two, with good space in back for two more passengers if their inseam doesn’t stretch more than 30 inches. The cloth-and-mystery-material front buckets are bolstered firmly enough to prompt complaints from the broad beamers among us. The frameless glass hatch is pure styling genius, all the better for its echo of Volvo’s P1800 ES of 1971–73.
While we’re tossing bouquets, much of the C30’s joy comes from its coordinated responses. This is a car that knows how to act. The brakes are wonderfully linear in their response, the steering zeros in on “straight down the road” when you cruise, and the throttle is free of the jumpy-jerky hyperactivity that is so tiresome in the pretend-to-be-fast crowd.
The 227-hp T5 is a light-pressure turbo setup, just 0.53 atmosphere at full boost. It doesn’t come on with a lunge; indeed, there seems to be nobody home when you toe into it in fifth or sixth gear at polite speeds. But in the lower gears, the torque ramps up promptly to fold your ears back, romping to 60 in 6.7 seconds, exactly a half-second behind the Mini Cooper S and VW GTI, two obvious competitors. Quarter-mile numbers of 15.3 seconds at 95 mph earn the C30 a spot in our class of spirited performers, but not the fast class.
Out in the twisties, the C30 has a trusty feel, reliable in its responses, predictable, in that sense rather like the GTI, and altogether more relaxed, and relaxing, than the twitchy Cooper S. Grip measures 0.80 g. Expect understeer at the limit. Braking from 70 mph uses up 187 feet.
Version 1.0 cars come with a black low-sheen-plastic flare all around the bottom of the body and wheel openings. On our dark-blue test car, this trim detail is hardly the first thing you’d notice, but on a white car, it would make a major statement.
All versions come with leather “touch points”—the wheel, the shift knob, and the hand brake. But that wasn’t enough in our Version 1.0 to counteract the frugal look of an advertised special: “Only $23,920 while they last!” The putty-brown dash top doesn’t quite match the putty-gray window sills—the surface textures don’t match, either—and neither is quite happy with the pearl gray plastic of the center stack, cluster housing, cup-holder surround, and door pulls.
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