Faults:

The water pump went out 3 times. But a pretty simple replacement.

The dual carburetors were constantly in need of tinkering.

The wipers on high, were not much quicker than when they were on normal speed.

That's it outside of normal wear and tear.

I did my basic tuneup, oil changes, and brakes more times than I can recall on it.

Pads were simple to replace, took about 15 minutes. Never did change the brake rotors.

General Comments:

It's a small car, but feels like a much larger car. Lots of room inside. Huge trunk. Solid when you closed the doors. Lots of metal all over the place.

Interior was spartan. It had a heater, with vertical dials in red or green. Kinda cool at the time. It kept me warm when I went to snow ski.

Speedometer was odd. It ran horizontal with an angled cut. I could never determine if the speed was the top or bottom of the angle. Never did get a speeding ticket in this thing. Gutless to no end. But a very tight turning radius.

Handled nice, for what it was. I even took it off road down to a creek, and it did fine crawling back up.

Good on gas, but at the time that wasn't a concern. Gas was cheap back then.

I'd pick another one up if I could find one.

I bought this car for $800, put over 100K miles on it, and sold it for $600.

Faults:

Various light bulbs would spontaneously pop off and roll around inside the taillight lenses.

The muffler would detach and swing around underneath the car, knocking around.

Various bits of chrome and plastic bits.

General Comments:

I never thought I'd get old enough to say that they just don't build them like this anymore.

Once upon a time, in a financial pinch, I came to own Betty, a dark blue 1973 142S for the then grand sum of $350 (to a poor student, this is an enormous sum of money).

I have to say that since then, I have never driven another car that, at 30 years old, won me its trust and allowed me to... dare I say, love a car.

Older Volvos are one of the single best investments you can make.

Betty, at 25 years old, was just coming into her own. She was quick (if loud and thrashy), comfortable (if orthopedically correct thrones upholstered in velcro appeal to you), and built like a Sherman tank.

You could hit a mailbox and find the clock miraculously begin to work again. You could kill the battery, leave it overnight in below-freexing temps and suddenly find the battery recharged. The heater was so hot you could fry an egg sandwich on the dashboard, and the ancient controls and displays seem built to last an eternity.

You only need the mental capacity of a village idiot to work on it - because I was a car idiot, and I successfully changed this and that with no problem. And I sometimes did this maintenance incorrectly, yet Betty never failed to start. Despite its lack of power anything, no Onstar, no telematics, no ABS = it ran, drove, and gave its all every day I owned it.

To a Volvo of this vintage, 'Dynamic Stability Control' meant not going around a corner faster than you should be going.

Once, on an icy country road, I swerved to avoid a Jeep Cherokee that was "play driving" in every lane, but the correct one. Betty went into a ditch, taking several small trees and a shrub with her. Shaken, I threw her into reverse, thinking that she was done for.

Not only did this Swedish Humvee back uphill out of a ditch in the ice, upon inspection she was completely undamaged save for a few branches of pine stuck in the grille. With her headlamps ablaze and her cabin heated to the temp of an Arizona desert, she rolled on.

Betty was only given up due to my mid-20s desire to have something sexy with leather seats and a sunroof and power what-have-you. I sold her for more than twice I bought her for. I know that, probably someplace, Betty is plowing down the rural driveway of a Vermont farmer in three feet of snow.

That's the way I'd like to remember her, anyway.

If you ever see one, buy it. Before it disappears.