Road Test: Volvo V70 T5 SE 5dr

Felicity Kendal was about as sexy as middle-class icons get. She was a suburban nymph, with a cheeky nose, a naughty giggle and the ability to make darning a sock look like the first stages of foreplay.

She was an attainable semi-detached sex kitten... but, before I get too carried away, I suppose I'd better mention this: our Volvo V70 Estate long termer (another middle class icon). Admittedly it's not as lovely as (the very lovely indeed) Felicity, but it is a symbol of middle England that ranks up there alongside cricket on the green and a pint of warm ale. Alas, its boxy looks are about to be replaced forever by a new and slinkier design, and we, at least, will be sad to see it go.

Love it or hate it, Sweden's second-most-famous export after Abba has been ferrying the kids to school, towing caravans, moving wardrobes, catching criminals and giving crash-test dummies everywhere a safer ride for over 30 years, but it could quite easily have never made it into production. In fact, had the company been even remotely good at selling what it made, then Acacia Avenue would be a Volvo-free zone.

As it happened, Assar Gabrielsson (one of Volvo's founders) looked at the firm's stock of 1,500 unsold chassis and decided to use them to build vans. The result was the Duett, which sold massively well and saved Volvo from going bust. Surprisingly for a country that took a risk on such daft ideas as the sauna and wanting to conquer Finland, it took another 10 years before the Swedes plucked up the courage do go really mad and stick some windows in the back of one of their vans. The result was the first ever Volvo estate.

The first purpose-built estate came in the shape of the curvy Amazon, but this was followed in 1967 by the 145 which sported the now-classic boxy Volvo silhouette. Not only did it offer the ultimate in space efficiency, but it was also one of the first cars to boast energy-absorbing crumple zones front and rear in an effort to make those inevitable elk collisions more bearable. Thanks to some clever marketing, Volvo became synonymous with safety as well as load lugging.

Volvo's dominance of the estate car market cont-inued throughout the '70s, to the extent that when the 740 was penned, it was designed initially as an estate car and then later converted into a saloon. Subsequently it's been a story of evolution rather than revolution, right up to our very own V70.

There's still an element of style snobbery in the office when it comes to those boxy looks, but there's no doubt a Volvo estate doesn't have quite the same stigma attached to it that it once did. If anyone in our office had to choose one car to make do with all the time, we might tell you it'd be a sexy little sports car, but it would actually be the ultra-versatile Volvo.

Editor Kevin and Art Director Marcel are oft seen collecting nicely designed (but flatpack-tastic) home furnishing from IKEA in it, Hayley Day has been known to strap a bed mattress to the roof (we have numerous theories as to the reason why), while the DIY fraternity (Sock and Hayley Ward) like to stick as closely as possible to Assar Gabrielsson's original concept and treat it like a van with windows.

It's also popular with the keep-fit brigade, to the extent that Motoring Editor Angus even insisted on getting a roof-mounted bike rack for it. Sadly, after insisting on such a luxury, he's forgotten how to balance and has failed to use either the bike or the rack during it's entire nine-month tenure.

As for Tom and I, well we both use it for transporting kids, which I think it's great for, but he doesn't because a quirk of the rear seat-belt design means he can't strap in two kiddie seats as well as getting a third, bigger child in the back. Tom is the one marked out by an arrow in our TG family photo opposite.

I'll tell you just how good it's been to live with a bit later, but in the meantime don't take our word for it, listen to what these other people have got to say...

So what's our car been like to own? Well, it might not have done an astronomical mileage, shifted a priceless Chippendale or even hared round a race track, but our very own V70 has been through plenty - and it hasn't exactly had an easy time of it, either. In our efforts to transport everything from furniture to photographers' camera equipment, the back seats have been up and down more times than a drug-dependent kangaroo - and this gives the Volvo an instant advantage over your average people carrier.

Firstly, that right-angle-based design and long body might not look the best, but it does enable you to get the most ridiculous amount of stuff inside. Secondly, this car has got to have just about the best thought-out folding rear seats imaginable. Not only do they fold down to provide a properly flat load bay, but also, thanks to some clever design, even the rear headrests fold neatly out of the way.

Driving when fully loaded is undoubtedly the Volvo's forté, and its engine is just about up to the job. Unladen, the 170bhp five-cylinder engine produces a mildly-meaty exhaust note and once you get the thing wound up, you can make reasonably swift progress. It's not the torquiest of engines, however, which means it needs a good revving in order to pull away cleanly. The fact that we didn't bother to tick the self-levelling suspension option means that the back end squats under loads, though for £500, if you're planning to do much in the way of load lugging we reckon it'd be money well spent.

It might not be the most invigorating car in the world to drive, but that doesn't matter when you are on the motorway, because it's supremely comfortable. This Volvo is both stable and quiet while at high speed and, once you have taken the time to mess about with the clumsy manual seat adjustment, it has got to be one of the most comfortable cars in which to undertake long-distance journeys. And there's no need to break up the trip unnecessarily frequently either, with a healthy 350-mile-plus range between those garage stops - thanks to the 25.2mpg fuel consumption figure that the Volvo has turned in during its time as one of our Top Gear test cars.

There are a couple of irritations, however, and they are mainly caused by Volvo's nanny-state approach to safety. Thanks for your concern, Volvo, but we are all responsible adults who are quite capable of turning on a car's headlights when the need arises. Secondly, there's Volvo's insistence that you only use their specially-designed (and I'm sure ultra-safe) child car seats. That's all fine, but why make them so damn complicated to fit and the baby so inaccessible from the front seat, when they are ensconced?

Still, these are all forgivable things when you're in possession of a stereo with an in-car CD-autochanger and top surround-sound system. One of the dash-mounted speakers might look like a bit of an afterthought, but put on the right CD, spray some champagne around the interior, shut your eyes and you could quite conceivably be in the Royal Albert Hall, the sound reproduction is that great.

Of course our car has been a picture of reliability too, though with a mere 13,079 miles on the clock, it's just a baby next to some of the other multi- thousand-mile motors we've featured in the previous pages. Servicing has been reasonable, with the first 10,000-mile service setting us back a penny-pinching £124. The only upcoming cost looming on the horizon is the price of a replacement set of front tyres.

Top car then, and if I may be so bold as to quote the great bard Rik Mayall in one of his finer Young Ones moments: "Felicity, Felicity, you fill me with electricity." We're pleased to say our own middle-class icon does exactly the same for us

Zac Assemakis