Volvo S60: A Car to Phone Home About

Sure, the next guy can brag about his full-color graphics, digital camera-equipped cellphone the size of a pandesal that can play all the R&B ringtone crap in the world. You, on the other hand, can only claim ownership to a low-res graphics phone that’s just a bit smaller than a PLDT unit. It does have hands-free operation capabilities though. And, well, you can also say it’s got a 180-horsepower, turbocharged, five-cylinder, 20-valve, 2.0-liter engine to go with it.

But only if you are fortunate enough to say "I have a Volvo S60," and look like you really have one. Because the S60 comes with a long list of goodies plus a phone — if you prefer to have one. Suddenly, that guy’s fancy full-color-R&B-crap cellphone ain’t that fancy no more.

What more, you can also brag this thing has a slick five-speed automatic transmission, a Macpherson strut/multilink suspension combo, aggressive 16-inch tires shod with 205/55 rubbers, ABS, EBD and all the safety acronyms Volvos are renowned for.

Sold in the country for about a couple of years now, the Volvo S60 remains one of the most distinctive cars around — cellphone or no cellphone. Which shouldn’t be surprising, really, as this was one of the first Volvos to sport the company’s new design philosophy, which was most probably conveyed in Swedish and roughly translated means "No more crate-with-windows cars, Olof, or you’re not getting more aquavit". The result are sculptural pieces of automobilia, the shapes of which and the emotions it triggers from an audience would truly qualify it as Swedish erotica.

Though a bit ornate when compared to other Euro sedans of its ilk — or even Japanese ones — the S60’s styling stops short of being gaudy, say in a Lincoln Town Car sort of way. In the S60, lines flow from one end to the next unobtrusively. A broad, swooping shoulder line swaths across the car from nose to tail (perhaps its most defining feature) creating a haunched, ready-to-pounce stance. Up front, a bulging hood that tapers off to the grille produces more flair, a perfect compliment to the shiny — yet not garish — grille. A tall trunk is punctuated by taillamps that seemed to have melted into the sheetmetal. Steeply raked windshield and rear glass make for a shape that can arguably take the honors as the best-looking sedan in the world. Okay, maybe not. The best-looking Swedish sedan, no?

Now if the S60’s exterior looks yummy, what’s within is even better — sort of like a Swede supermodel but presumably better-smelling. The car’s interior, especially the top-model variant like the one we drove, is utterly tasteful if for the fact that everything is swathed in black and other dark hues. Also, the type of leather found inside this car —which is to say almost everywhere — makes you wonder what kind of richly pampered life this cow and his family must have led. Soft. Smooth. Soft. Even the plastics around the cabin feels rich.

Adding to the rich atmosphere is what could be called an orchestra-quality sound system — if only I can honestly claim I’ve actually been to a theater where an orchestra is playing. Add to that deep, contoured seats that hug your body and carpeting that makes you want to take your shoes off so you can feel it with your bare foot. But that is not advisable as freshly-removed-socks-from-feet odor was never commercially successful as a car air freshener. When it gets dark outside, the gazillion minuscule but muted dashboard lights evoke a 70’s bachelor pad feel to the whole thing. Pop in some ABBA CD and feel free to be as groovy as you want.

On the road, the S60 feels like riding one of those American land barges: supple, smooth and thoroughly relaxed. Though not particularly sloppy in handling or acceleration, no driver’s car the S60 is either, as its strength lies mostly in delivering a hushed, silken ride. You’d prefer Olof to drive this thing for you. Surely some drivers would want to flog it around corners, but the S60 is best savored as fine Sauvignon rather than quaffing it like Red Horse beer.

So pour me a drink, Olof, and hand me that phone too. I’m calling home to say I got a date with a Swede supermodel. And I’ll be late.