When Irv Gordon walked into a Long Island Volvo showroom one day in June 1966, he had no idea that his life was about to change for ever. He tells his story in a gentle New York drawl, much of it while relaxed in the leather seat of his shiny red P1800 as he clocks up yet more miles, one hand on the wheel, the other out of the window, clamped to the roof. No wonder he looks comfortable: he must have sat in that position for some 40,000 hours, or 4.5 years of his life.
Amazingly, the car feels solid. The engine – last rebuilt 1.4 million miles ago – has good oil pressure and few rattles.
“I’d had a $250 car for college,” says Irv, embarking on the fascinating tale of his motoring life, “but when I was ready to start teaching science in ’63 I could see concrete through the floor. I needed a new car to get to and from work, so I went down to my Chevy dealer and bought a new convertible.
"Four blocks from the showroom, it had to be towed back and never got any better. The engine was the problem, but GM didn’t want to know, they said I was abusing it – they had fitted the wrong camshaft, I found out later: it kept breaking rocker arms. I had that car for about five months and couldn’t afford to keep it. I didn’t know what to buy so I went out and bought another Chevy, even after all that, and that one used to have ignition problems and shut down in the middle of the highway.
"Around 1965, a friend of mine had seen an ad that showed a Volvo convertible – Volvo never made a convertible but the dealer used to cut the tops off them. So we took a test drive and I loved it, but I couldn’t afford the air-conditioned convertible so I wound up with the red car in the showroom, which is the one I’m driving now.