The rescue and restoration of a one-of-a-kind Volvo 780 Turbo show car
Back in the Spotlight
05/05/2021
Show cars are rarely built to last. Their glamour is often superficial, contrived to sparkle appealingly under the bright lights and through camera shutters. Outside of that artificial setting, most vehicles of this type have little practical value. A special one-off 780 Turbo, commissioned by Volvo Cars of North America and brought to life by ASC for the New York International Auto Show, had the advantage of a durable Volvo at its core. Having survived decades hiding in plain sight, this once-endangered coupe is now returning to its former glory at the hands of young people and mentoring adults, with elite display inside the 2021 SEMA show as the end goal.
Your author first encountered the distinctive flagship in the spring of 1990; my father took me to New York City to attend the Auto Show at the Javits Center. It was a genuinely thrilling experience for a budding Volvo enthusiast to take in the Swedish automaker's vast stand, with the historic-model recreation of the famous "stack" stretching to the ceiling, and a distinctly sporty appearing 780 Bertone—normally a reserved, chrome-trimmed luxury car— standing alone on a brightly lit pedestal. This was a special example promoting the new Generation 3 Turbo four-cylinder engine and "Prototype Body Styling Concept" bodywork, as the attendant signage explained, the latter adding a serious dose of contemporary monochromatic style set off with a pop of teal striping.
The author's long-lost, blurry photo of this car on the turntable at the New York International Auto Show, April 19, 1990.
Davies Owens, the world's foremost Volvo 780 Bertone historian and keeper of the 780 registry for the Volvo Club of America, first encountered this singular 780 Turbo 13 years later in California, where it was for sale by its initial private owner, a woman who'd purchased the then- 652-mile car in 1997 from Volvo Cars of North America in New Jersey. It had been driven around 33,000 miles by 2003, and her $32,000 asking price, combined with its limited-to-exterior customization, left him to walk away. The Turin, Italy-built two-door would go through four additional owners over the next 14 years and 110,000 miles, and be rescued just before it was scheduled to be scrapped to recoup impound fees.
In a circle of fate, our feature car finally landed in Davies' sympathetic hands. Through dedicated sleuthing, he'd tracked down the car… purchased it out of impound; Davies tells that wild tale at 780coupe.com/ concept. His friend Todd drove the battered 780 to the Owens family home in Idaho, where this one-time dream machine's original, custom-fitted 17-inch alloy wheels—sold separately out of Volvo's corporate warehouse decades earlier— already resided. I got the chance to visit Davies and see this now-140,000-mile coupe a second time, 27 years after my first experience, while the car's new caretaker pondered its future possibilities.
This once-spectacular coupe was abandoned in an impound yard in 2017, with fees piling up, when the keeper of the Volvo 780 Bertone register found it and negotiated its release. A friend drove it from California to Idaho.
"What I find fascinating as an automotive enthusiast is there are so many niche moments in history that are overlooked because the stories were never told," he muses. "This car represents an odd time where the Swedes built a car in Italy for the Americans. When the 780 reached the U.S. in 1987, Volvo was doing well selling lots of 240s and wagons, and along came this two-door that cost $15,000 more than the most expensive standard model—it was a foray into the luxury coupe market, playing with the German big boys. But the 780 was slow to arrive, had a fairly tepid PRV V-6 engine, dealers didn't receive it warmly, and it just didn't fit the company's average customer demographics. A lot of times, 780s were deeply discounted for sale, and technicians grimaced every time one rolled in for service because so many components were different than in other models.
"In the U.S., Volvo struggled with how to market this car that really wasn't all that exciting," Davies continues. "VCNA had proposed some modifications to the team in Sweden—body-color bumpers, changing the wheels—but they weren't receptive." Volvo had recently introduced the 'Turbo +' software enhancement that was available as an accessory on four-cylinder turbocharged models and standard equipment on the new-for-'89 780 Turbo, and this, coupled with the third generation of intercooled SOHC 2.3-liter engine introduced for 1990, meant 188 hp: then, the highest output in the company's history! Our historian explains that the U.S. arm of Volvo Cars spotted its opportunity to take advantage of this fresh performance technology: "They shipped this 780 off to ASC. They were trying to add pizzaz to an underappreciated vehicle. It's a great testimony to the American market trying to do something different."
This photo of our feature car in primer, taken in 1989 at ASC, was a thrilling discovery from retired 780 technical project leader Sven-Gunnar Johansson; it was among a handful of original slides sent from VCNA to Sweden.
And that's how the New York show car came to be. It was a standard white-over-beige 1989 780 Turbo that received extensive cosmetic modifications from the custom-build experts at ASC in Michigan, with total project cost conservatively estimated at $100,000. Through his historic research, Davies would come to know David Sheinberg, the Volvo employee once tasked by VCNA's project planning head and marketing vice president with overseeing the project that would culminate in the memorable display I witnessed in 1990. An ASC stylist named Oluf Bendixen had created renderings showing the car sporting aerodynamic-looking lower body fairings and a subtle trunk spoiler, and this design was approved by VCNA, with somewhat-grudging acceptance from the 780 team in Sweden. Sheinberg would fly between New Jersey and Michigan, carrying in-progress documentation showing the clay modeling, the installation of hand-formed fiberglass panels created from molds made from the clay, and the complex multistep painting process that resulted in the incredible pearl white paint that popped under the lights.
Sadly, by the time this 780 Turbo was parked in Davies' driveway, it was a shadow of its former self. Since it was built for indoor display, no consideration was given to weather resistance, and the special body parts were attached to the zinc-treated sheetmetal using raw steel brackets and fasteners that badly rusted from exposure to coastal sea air. Major portions of the fiberglass front spoiler were broken off below the bumper and the remainder was supported by zip ties. The cladding on the driver's door was missing and its passenger's-door counterpart had been crudely reaffixed with screws. Extensive rust had formed atop the windshield and at the top and bottom of the rear window. Inside, the entire driver's door panel was gone, and with it one of six Italian burled elm trim pieces unique to this car. As Davies and I stood in his driveway in the fall of 2017, looking at the car, he confided that he didn't know what he would do with his prize. He was contemplating salvaging the specific parts and putting them on a more solid donor 780, and perhaps even questioning his sanity for taking on such a project.
780 Bertone historian Davies Owens (at left) posed with son Bennett and volunteers Steve and Ashton Lawrence on the day the original engine was removed.
Time would pass, but a breakthrough was on the horizon in the form of Rebuilding Generations (rebuildinggenerations.com), a nonprofit charitable organization established in 2013 that provides automotive-focused mentorship for children and young adults, ages 7 and up. This group is affiliated with the Specialty Equipment Market Association through founder Kevin Keep, who has a 23-year relationship with the industry through his day job handling marketing for many of the aftermarket automotive industry leaders. Rebuilding Generations has since worked on several automotive projects that have been highlighted in Optima's outdoor display area during the annual SEMA show in Las Vegas. In the spring of 2020, this special Volvo would be adopted as the latest project for the group of knowledgeable adult mentors and young enthusiasts to tackle together, with the goal of displaying in Optima's booth, this fall.
As Davies surmised, restoring this 32-yearold Italo-Swede would not be a simple or inexpensive operation. And while it may surprise purists, the 780 historian is taking a few liberties, opting for era-correct original-equipment modifications to the engine and transmission that involve more than simple parts swaps. He's actually having a new, overbored four-cylinder built using the strongest, final iteration of that B230FT "red block," which will be mated to an updated Bosch engine management system that can be chip tuned for improved performance. And rather than reinstalling the four-speed automatic transmission used in all U.S.- market 780s, the team will mate the more-powerful engine to a rebuilt M46 four-speed manual with electric overdrive that Davies sourced from a $180 1990 740 Turbo that he pulled from a rural Idaho field; this isn't a stretch, since the 780 was available with three pedals in overseas markets.
Davies snapped this photo of the Turbo reunited with the 17-inch alloys it wore during the 1990 NYIAS. Tinted windows protected the leather seats, which will be re-dyed and join new carpet.
The Bertone coupe's outward appearance will remain true to its history, though. Davies learned from a Rebuilding Generations mentor who owns a professional glass shop that the rust issues in the car's roof skin more than likely originated from ASC workers slicing through the original window seals—also cutting through the paint, primer, and into sheetmetal below—to remove the glass in advance of the 780's repaint. That damage wasn't repaired before the glass was reinstalled, and moisture got into the channels and ruined the metal from below. The solution? Removing this skin and replacing it with one from a donor 780 in the correct, spot-welded fashion.
More complicated questions remain: How to replace those broken and missing one-off lower body panels, and how to match the old pearlescent finish? Davies is seeking advice about the possibility of 3D-printing replacement panels, with the alternative being recreating ASC's handiwork with fiberglass and lighter, rustproof aluminum brackets. He'd like to be able to offer the show car's body kit, or at least its trunk spoiler, to other 780 enthusiasts around the globe. And it will take serious consulting with automotive paint professionals to reproduce the blue-tinted white finish in today's materials.
"Getting this car felt like adopting the puppy from the pound who'd been out on the streets for a month—the scrappy dirty dog. It was literally weeks away from being crushed," he recalls with a smile. "Now we're on a really exciting journey, and SEMA has lit a fire."
1. The restoration of this car began in earnest in early 2020. Removing the passenger door fiberglass body panel revealed old glue and corroded raw steel brackets, but thankfully little body rust. This 780 had been built for indoor show display, with no consideration given to life in the real world.
2. Hidden behind a taillamp was an exciting discovery: a perfect, never-faded, undamaged area of original pearlescent paint that was applied by ASC some 30 years earlier; this will be matched, using modern materials and techniques, during the body restoration.
3. Working in Davies' well-equipped detached shop that includes a four-post lift, the Rebuilding Generations volunteer crew readied this car's 140,000-mile, Turbo +-equipped 2.3-liter "red block" four-cylinder engine and automatic transmission for removal. It will be replaced with a newer, more-powerful engine and manual gearbox.
4. As part of the performance upgrades planned for the 780 Turbo, Davies has elected to substitute virtually the entire wiring harness of this 1989 model for one from his one-year-newer donor car as part of exchanging the original Bosch LH2.2 engine management system for the more-sophisticated and tunable LH2.4 that debuted for the 1990 model year. Here, volunteer Steve Lawrence traced and tagged each wire before removing the massive dashboard harness.
5. Glen Burman, a welder by trade, spent six hours fabricating custom brackets that would join the 780's unit-body frame rails to the rotisserie. That implement has proven essential in the multitude of tasks requiring easy underbody access.
6. This Volvo's complex, coil-sprung multi-link independent rear suspension was removed as a unit with the rear differential. Visible on the body is staining left by the untreated steel that mounted the custom panels; the restoration team hopes to create a new mounting system with brackets fabricated in lightweight, non-rusting aluminum.
7. The Rebuilding Generations volunteer group divided and conquered, with members in the foreground inspecting the original four-cylinder engine and readying it for removing the factory-installed AW71 four-speed automatic, which will be replaced by a rebuilt M46 manual transmission, as available in European markets. Behind them, another group cleaned the calipers of the four-wheel-disc braking system.
8. Volvo strengthened its four-cylinder turbo engine in its final iteration, adding oil squirters for improved piston cooling. This 1993 "L"-block will soon be assembled using oversized Mahle pistons and an IPD performance camshaft. When finished, it will be a blend of the best components the company offered in that period.
9. The rotisserie made tasks like removing the fuel tank and lines, brake lines, and cleaning years of accumulated oil residue and undercoating much less of a backache.
10. Davies' son Liam worked with volunteer Brandon to replace the badly worn bushings that secure the cosmetically restored rear differential in place.
11. For a time, the Owens family workshop housed a makeshift paint booth, created by draping plastic sheeting over a tubular frame that enclosed the entire rotisserie and covered the floor below; floor-height fans drew fresh air through. Liam wore a full suit, eye protection, and a respirator as he sprayed individual suspension and driveline components with fresh chassis-black paint. The car was masked, exhaust heat shields covered, and its entire undercarriage got fresh undercoating.
12. Carrozzeria Bertone fitted each of the 8,951 780 coupes it built for Volvo with a matched set of six burled elm dash and door trims; sadly this car's driver's door piece is missing. Bill March, a friend who restores wood, volunteered to recondition the remainders, methodically stripping the old, cracked glossy urethane finish and replacing it with a satin finish that recalls what was used on 1990-'91 models.
I turned 18 in late 1977. Ordinarily it would have been just another birthday, especially considering I had my driver’s license less than a year, but it was significant in that I was hired as a valet parking attendant at The Manor, a well-known fine dining restaurant and caterer - that doubled as a very popular wedding venue - located in West Orange, New Jersey. It also meant I could leave behind yard work, dog care, and the sporadic odd jobs of scooping ice cream and delivering newspapers.
The Manor sat on an extensive mountainside property adjacent to a wooded reservation and a golf course, so it was a great place to work outside in the fresh air. Visitors entered the property through tall gates and navigated a tree-lined driveway that led to the grand entrance of the pillared Georgian mansion. Valet parking was free and not required. If visitors opted for valet service, vehicles were driven from the main entrance to either an upper or lower lot. The farthest parking spaces were more than a quarter mile away from The Manor’s front door.
I had been into cars since childhood, so this was a magical job. I was part of a crew of six or seven that worked for tips, and we wore orange coverall uniforms so that we were easily seen at night. We routinely parked and returned more than 400 cars on a busy Saturday, with parties in the afternoon and then again at night, together with public dining.
Jockeying cars for position in shrinking lanes during return rush times made me a better and more precise driver. Another benefit was that I developed a higher appreciation for well-designed dashboards, budding smart controls, and quality upholstery. I preferred gauges to warning lamps, and I intensely disliked the flashing green and yellow dashboard fuel economy indicators that seemed unwelcome in luxury cars. The only way to make the annoying indicator stay green was to coast.
As a crew, we elbowed each other to park the hot imports, such as BMW’s 2002, Datsun’s Z variants, the first Honda Accords, Toyota Celicas, and less frequently, Volkswagen Sciroccos. These were all well-equipped, light, quick, and easy to park. It was also possible to shift them into higher gears for test drives by taking the long way around to the lower back lot. As far as I knew, none of us ever got a Porsche 911 out of second. Our boss knew the joyride risk, so we had to keep numbered dashboard tickets in sequence for assigned spaces that discouraged long drives around the property.
Photo: Hemmings Archives
I have many fond memories of the job. To start, the things people left in their vehicles were nothing short of amazing. There were open bills with private information in plain view, and mail of every other conceivable variety, as well as checkbooks, laundry, arts, and crafts in all stages of non-completion, sticky food wrappers, and other trash. I also quickly learned that a tip amount didn’t always correspond to the expense or condition of the car after one guest left a caged guinea pig in his 1967 Pontiac Le Mans when he arrived late for a wedding reception. Aside from needing to be washed and vacuumed, that car was quite fragrant. It was a dry day, so I lowered the side windows, and we took turns checking the pet as we ran to and from other vehicles. Later, the guest told me he was glad the party was over and was eager to reunite the guinea pig with his young daughter. Having noticed us checking on the pet, the car owner gave me the biggest tip I ever got to fetch a car.
Another unusual thing happened while parking a 1975 Buick LeSabre sedan. Two people got out and went inside for dinner and as I got in immediately noticed the aroma of freshly baked bagels emanating from two gigantic bags that took most of the rear seat, nearly reaching the headliner. After parking the car, I was spooked by a low voice from the far-right of the back seat that asked, “Howee doin’?” I had not seen the slight fellow partially hidden by one of the tall bags, and all I could ask was if he intended to go inside. He said he didn’t want a fancy dinner, just a nap. He offered bagels to the entire crew, which were delicious, and stayed in the car and slept for two hours.
Rare cars would roll up on occasion, including one almost everyone guessed was a Maserati, though I recognized it as a Facel Vega. The exhaust growl of the Chrysler Hemi V-8 was positively rhapsodic, and the grand tourer had polished wood throughout its interior. We parked it in a special spot on an outer aisle near the front door and overheard customers speculate what it was while waiting for their own cars. When the tweedy owner eventually came out, my boss, Ray, was determined to sound smart and amuse himself. He conspicuously and formally signaled, “Christopher, the Facel Vega, please.” Seeing where we placed his pride and joy, the owner gleamed. He may have enjoyed that moment more than his dinner.
Another story involved a regular customer’s Cadillac Seville during lunch hour, when Ray often let me work alone so he could get a break. Two County Sheriff’s detectives stopped to tell me they were looking for two inmates who had escaped from the local penitentiary wearing–what else–orange coveralls. They were last seen running on the neighboring golf course. Of course, we always left keys in the ignition of parked cars. The detectives asked how many cars remained from lunch, and whether I could account for each. To my dismay, the Cadillac (one of only three cars left in my charge) was gone! The owner was very classy when the detectives needed his license plate number and unselfishly said he was glad I had not run into the thieves. Luckily for me, the car was recovered unscratched at a nearby shopping center, but we never heard if the thieves were caught.
I rarely drove a car onto the open road, but one exception was a permanent resident’s 1976 Rolls Royce Silver Shadow. The luminous dark red sedan was overdue for its annual state inspection and the owner’s wife “volunteered” me to drive it to the inspection station in the next town. The engine was so quiet and vibration-free that I had to concentrate to hear it. The interior was beautifully appointed with the finest leather I had ever seen or touched. Intuitive controls were set in burled walnut. In my opinion the steering wheel was somewhat primitive and too hard for an ultra-luxury auto, but it was a minor nitpick since the car was a magic carpet. It literally floated when put in drive. As expected, there were no buzzes, squeaks, or rattles. It handled well and predictably with adequate road feel, despite its considerable weight. Power came immediately at the slightest touch, suggesting ample reserve, and the Rolls-Royce stopped on a dime.
Photo: Hemmings Archives
Admittedly, I was very nervous driving it, even when it seemed other drivers stayed out of the way once I reached a multi-lane avenue. The inspection station was in a not-so-nice area on a narrow, bumpy street, and being near closing time the station was busy. I had to get in a line that snaked around the block and all I could do was hope nobody hit the darn thing.
As I crawled to the entrance, the inspection staff was laughing and pointing at me, still wearing my orange coveralls: “Hey kid, how did you get out of jail and where did you get that car?” Fortunately, my uniform sported a company crest. Seeking mercy, I said it was the boss’ car. Then the Rolls failed its emissions test. Adding to the insult, the dented, oxidized Volkswagen Beetle behind me passed with flying colors. In those days, a sticker with a big red circle signifying failure was affixed to the windshield’s lower left corner. You couldn’t miss it.
I finally relaxed when I pulled the Silver Shadow into the familiar driveway without incident. To my surprise, the owner’s wife was happy to see that the car failed, because now she could get it tuned up without further debate. Apparently, her husband was always working and neglected his cars. We were reminded of that later when we had to jump the battery in his seldom-driven Jaguar XJ12. The next time I saw the Rolls it had a proper inspection sticker.
After parking cars for eighteen months, I transferred inside to become a bartender as my college days progressed. I missed handling the cars, but not enduring cold winter nights or donning those orange coveralls. Over the years I have almost always insisted on parking my own car, but when valet parking is unavoidable, particularly in a city, I tip in advance. It’s remarkable how a few dollars will often gain a spot close to the attendant’s booth, sometimes with a safety cone next to our car.
Americans rediscovered factory performance thanks, in part, to NASCAR’s first official Strictly Stock (quickly renamed Grand National) race, held on June 19, 1949, on Charlotte Speedway’s ¾-mile dirt oval. What made the 200-lap contest compelling to the 13,000 attendees was a relatable starting field of 33 factory-stock cars (with minor provisions allowed for safety). Of the nine makes that took the green flag (Buick, Cadillac, Chrysler, Ford, Hudson, Kaiser, Lincoln, Mercury, and Oldsmobile), Jim Roper and his 1949 Lincoln were declared victors following the disqualification of Glenn Dunnaway and his 1947 Ford, the latter’s rear spring having been modified for its day-to-day life as a moonshine hauler.
By the end of the 1955 season, Buick, Chevrolet, Oldsmobile, Chrysler, Dodge, Plymouth, Ford, Mercury, Hudson, Nash, Studebaker, and even Jaguar, had been added to the list of race-winning manufactures. Absent was Pontiac, though not for a lack of effort. Thirteen drivers had entered Pontiacs, a combined total of just 25 races. Freddie Lee provided the best result, a fourth, at Carrell Speedway in Gardena, California, on June 30, 1951.
Photo by Matthew Litwin
Race wins touted in national headlineswere not lost on manufacturers, so by the start of the 1956 season nearly every major domestic brandhad invested performance resources into NASCAR. Pontiac initially supported two teams: Jim Stephens (Stephens Pontiac), and A.L. Bumgarner (Brushy Mountain Motors). Each were armed with a new-for-1956 engine designed for racing: a 316.6-cu.in. V-8 fitted with dual Rochester four-barrel carburetors that, along with a high-performance camshaft, dual-point distributor, specialized valley cover, and 10:1 compression cylinder heads, conspired to produce 285 horsepower (in street trim, mind. It’s well-known that racers knew how to make more horsepower).
A Pontiac win looked favorable, beginning with the sixth race of the season at the Daytona Beach/Road race, where Stephens’ two-car effort - with Ed Kretz and Cotton Owens - qualified 3rd and 4th, while Junior Johnson, in Bumgarner’s Pontiac, qualified 26th in the 76-car field. None saw the checkered flag. Johnson crashed, and the Stephens effort was met with mechanical woes. It was a sign of things to come. Strong as Pontiac was, bad fortune and mechanical reliability were its Achilles’ heel. Pontiac attained just 17 top 10 finishes with a best of 3rd recorded by Pat Kirkwood in a Stephens’ Pontiac.
Going winless, coupled with poor street ability of the dual-quad 316.6 V-8, spurred Pontiac to develop Tri-Power and fuel-injected 347-cu.in. engines for 1957. They became instant hits on the track - the brand notched two wins prior to a June rule change that mandated a single four-barrel induction system - and on the street, leaving the dual-quad 316.6 a nearly forgotten footnote of Fifties factory performance.
Rare reminders, however, still exist, such as this bred-for-NASCAR 1956 Pontiac twin Rochester carburetor and intake manifold assembly spotted for sale at the 2023 AACA Eastern Fall Meet in Hershey, Pennsylvania. Also included as part of the $4,500 package price was the system’s specific air cleaner assembly, which looked similar that of Cadillac’s (the two reportedly would not interchange without modifications). Save for rebuilding the carburetors, it looked ready to install on a specific “HY” stamped block.
ASKING PRICE:$4,500
FOUND AT: 2023 AACA EASTERN FALL MEET (HERSHEY, PENNSYLVANIA)