Life’s a beach
“I’m sorry, but I can’t help you,” says the
policeman. He’s friendly enough - but what he can’t help us with is towing our
beached Volvo from a roadside verge with his Volkswagen Passat 4Motion. This
seems surprising, given that we’re stuck on what seems quite a lonely road. A
beautiful road, admittedly, that cuts through a brilliantly glittering winter scape
beneath the dazzling low sun, but one that we’re enjoying in life-threatening
temperatures.
Yet our man is gently insistent: “I’m not
allowed to tow any cars.” This is health and safety Swedish style, perhaps,
although he’s generous enough to give the Volvo a push with snapper Papior. But
it’s firmly stuck, a rear wheel sunk in a snow-filled ditch following a botched
attempt (mine) to turn around for some photographs.
This
is health and safety Swedish style, perhaps, although he’s generous enough to
give the Volvo a push with snapper Papior
That die Volvo won’t move is slightly
surprising, because this four-wheel-drive V60 should be capable of hauling
itself free. But even with all wheels engaged, the back axle stops turning to
leave the front tires spinning uselessly on the snow-glazed road. The rear
wheels are lifeless, I’m assuming, because the effort is tripping the car’s
electric motor out in the interests of self-protection. Sure enough, leaving
the car to think about it for five minutes gets the rear wheels active again
but neither for long nor to any great effect. Foolish? I’m feeling it.
After 10 minutes, a Nissan Navara appears,
and despite die inability of either party to exchange intelligible words, the
Volvo is successfully released. Later we read the handbook and discover that
engaging third gear and switching to DSTC Sport is the way to get moving when
you’re beached. Oh well. Now we’re back on the road to Mora, where we’ll
overnight before hitting Trollhättan and visiting die oldest hydro-electric
plant in Sweden. Why? Because it’s owned by the Vattenfall power company, which
paid in part for the V60 Plug-in Hybrid’s development costs to encourage the
uptake of electric cars.
Switches
toggle between powertrain modes; ‘Save’ button recharges batteries
Mora is 250 miles away, and if you were
faced with the road we’re driving on in Britain, you’d never arrive. Studded tires
are a must. They add confidence, too; an experimental emergency stop uncovers
more grip than expected. The Volvo feels solidly planted on the few bends that
we encounter, most roads arrowing straight through the endless conifer forests
until towns or hills force them to turn. There are 51 billion trees in Sweden,
most of them pines, most sheathed in a thick crust of diamond-bright snow. And
over the next two days it’ll feel like we’ve driven past at least a billion of
them. Although they’re picturesque, our journey is a little samey. Time, then,
to play with the hybrid’s driveline.
Reading
the manual might have avoided this tow
We’re keen to see what kind of economy is
possible, and although our battery’s 31-mile range has been depleted by the
ditch adventure, you can build 12 miles’ worth of go-juice by sinking the
‘Save’ button, the battery replenished by both the diesel engine and
regenerative braking.
It’s mainly intended to preserve your
electric-only range so that you can drive in zero-emissions mode at journey’s
end, but you can also use it to improve your economy. Having amassed some
charge, we hit the Pure button and manage 12.5 miles on electricity alone at
around 60mph, lifting the Volvo’s fuel consumption from 51.3mpg to 55.4mpg,
according to the trip computer. These figures would, of course, have been
better still had we not got stuck.
Impressive
77mph is possible in pure electric mode
Our hotel at Mora provides the chance for a
full recharge. Then, the following day, we meet a moment of bemused bafflement:
the computer’s average consumption doggedly records zero, even though we’ve
travelled several miles out of Mora. I reset it - twice - before realizing that
we really are using no fuel because the Volvo is travelling electrically in
hybrid mode. My (flimsy) excuse for this foolishness is that the studded tires
hum loud enough to have you thinking that the diesel engine is actually
running, which it doesn’t do until we’ve covered 19.6 miles on volt power.
That’s pretty good, considering that the battery is less than half-charged and
we’re cruising at a respectable 60mph.
Olidan
power station in Trollhättan is more than 100 years old
Economical downturn
As the countryside breaks into a thaw, die
V60 proves itself to be an effortlessly relaxed cruiser, even if its diesel is
a bit chattery and its ride occasionally sudden. The Volvo’s elegantly spare
dashboard, comfortable seats and decent stereo are compensation, as are
instruments customizable for color and content. Despite the distances we’re
covering, there’s little chance to discover how this V60 handles a set of
dry-road bends, although our lake experience suggests plenty of traction and a
tidy way with corners that’s likely to knock your economy.
The
Volvo’s elegantly spare dashboard, comfortable seats and decent stereo are
compensation, as are instruments customizable for color and content.
And indeed, our final consumption is a
somewhat disappointing 42.5mpg - not great for a 2.4-liter diesel, never mind a
diesel hybrid. True, we exercised the Volvo’s considerable punch, but not so
much. The problem, apart from its weight, is that our brisk, long-distance
journey has featured few moments of regenerative braking, very little urban
running and only one chance to fully charge the battery pack. Use this Volvo as
a commuting car with overnight recharges - which cost a lot less than the
equivalent energy in diesel - and its economy will dramatically improve.
There are other appealing factors, too. The
price is steep at $73,165 - although a UK government plug-in car grant reduces
that by $7,500 - but it’s a lot more than an eco-car. There’s a fine interior,
and all that go, grip and balance. The steering needs more feel, but its
biggest draw is the versatility of that intriguing drivetrain. Startlingly fast
takeoffs, zero-emissions commuting, the security of all-wheel drive on
slippery roads and the pleasure of extracting the biggest distance from the
least energy... all are on offer in this compact, subtly elegant and
surprisingly fast sports estate. And if you ever find yourself on a frozen lake
in one, prepare to be mightily amused.
Overnight
stop gives Bremner the chance to replenish the V60’s batteries via mains
How waterfalls can power a car
This V60 is unusual not only for being the
world’s first plug-in diesel hybrid, but also for being part-funded by Swedish
energy generator Vattenfall, Europe’s fifth-largest electricity producer.
Vattenfall and Volvo formed the V2 Plug-in Hybrid Vehicle Partnership in 2007,
and the V60 Plug-in Hybrid is the venture’s first car. The energy company
provided expertise for charging and network technologies and half of the
development costs.
Electric vehicle drive makes particular
sense in Sweden, where hydro-electric power stations are widespread. More than
that, the need for plug-in vehicle engine heaters in winter means there are
already 600,000-700,000 charging sockets in place, and Vattenfall is keen to
exploit them with electric cars. The company’s oldest hydro-electric facility
is at Trollhattan, where the River Gota’s 32-meter plunge through a gorge
harnesses the waters of Vanern, Sweden’s largest lake.
