A spate of messages, a fix costing nothing

It's been very nearly six months since I drove away Sophie, my second-hand Volvo XC60 with the prized-but-no-longer-made five-cylinder (D5) diesel engine, and R-Design embellishments, from Caffyns Volvo Eastbourne. That was on 27th October, after the purchasing formalities were complete. How quickly time passes! And how well she has served me since. If I'm honest, better than my beloved Fiona could have done. 

If you are a new reader, and not familiar with the Fiona Saga, she was a top-of-the-range Volvo XC60 SE Lux (with that important D5 engine for caravanning) that I ordered from the Volvo factory in January 2010. The XC60 models had been introduced in 2008, and by 2010 most of the inevitable teething troubles had been sorted out. It was the right time to buy. The particular specification I put together bumped the price up to £41,000, but I got the benefit of a standard £5,000 no-quibble trade-in from Volvo on my ageing Honda CR-V, plus the government's Scrappage Scheme contribution, which together brought the cost down to £34,000. And I had the cash - an inheritance from my uncle, Mum's brother. The facts that I'd effectively 'given birth' to Fiona, and that she always had that family link, made her very special. And she served me well and faithfully, for thirteen years and 194,000 miles, looking good to the end of our acquaintance. A car to be proud of. A car to love.

But Fiona was never a cheap car to run. And after the first five years, I bore the cost of a series of expensive component replacements. I had expected a lot from Fiona. Too much. I drove her pretty hard. I wore bits of her out before their proper time. I promised myself that I would not do the same with her successor, Sophie. 

So when Sophie stepped into Fiona's shoes, I was deliberately gentle and restrained with her. The reward has been significantly better fuel consumption, and no mechanical trouble whatever. That is still the case. 

But recently a spate of warning instrument-panel messages began, about things failing and needing a service at a Volvo dealer. 

They began as I drove westwards through a fierce rainstorm on the A303 near Wincanton, on my way down to Lyme Regis with the caravan in tow. The rain battering the car actually turned to hail for a while. I slowed to a safe speed, and as I did so the messages began to show. I was warned about ABS failure, stability control failure, and low tyre pressure. Scary stuff! And yet the handling of the car was unaffected, and an inspection of the tyres at the next layby revealed nothing to be concerned about. These messages disappeared when I next fired up the engine, and briefly reappeared only once more during my West Country holiday. But they returned - apparently permanently - during the journey home, and were joined by two new warning messages connected with braking ability. And yet there was nothing amiss with the braking. Were they all spurious? 

Spurious or not, it was time to let Caffyns have a look. So four days ago I took Sophie down to Eastbourne for a diagnostic check. 

It turned out that the rear ABS sensor had packed in after 65,000 miles, and was the sole author of all these messages. Volvo had clearly found a way of basing several safely systems on a single sensor, with the drawback that if that sensor became wayward it generated a multiplicity of false warnings. So some relief: there was just one, easily-dealt-with cause. The next step, which could be put in hand at once - while I waited - was to physically replace the errant sensor. The cost would be over £300. Ah, I said, wasn't this covered by the Volvo Selekt used car warranty? Indeed it was. Caffyns rapidly cleared the matter with Volvo HQ, and the technician installed a new sensor. I watched him through the giant window at the Eastbourne dealership. While waiting, I examined the Warranty - I had a copy of the pdf on my phone - and confirmed that it had another six months to run. That was reassuring. It might not be needed again, but who knows. I was covered. (I'd ensure that the next annual service and MOT took place before the Warranty expired)

But what a good outcome meanwhile. A new sensor for nothing. And the messages had vanished. I'm now all set for a carefree summer of motoring - and caravan towing.

It was interesting to consider my personal reaction to this experience. The messages were worrying, but I took them calmly throughout. I didn't panic. I didn't cry. With Fiona I might have wobbled quite a bit, for anything that had ever struck at Fiona had struck at my heart, as if she were my child. With Sophie I was much more detached: dare I say it, more adult. 

It wasn't that I didn't care about Sophie: we had bonded, as we were bound to do when you think how car-based and car-reliant my life is. I'd transferred my car-loyalty to her. But Sophie was essentially a Fiona-lookalike, a grey replacement bought in a hurry. And not with my own cash but on HP - she wouldn't even be legally mine until the three-year finance deal had run its course. There was no family association at all. Although likeable and good to drive, she was simply a used car with a largely unknown past, not one I'd had made for me, and had nurtured from new. As soon as feasible she would be replaced with a newer Volvo, probably an all-electric one. Sophie was a stopgap car. So yes, I could be perfectly cool and detached, clinical even. 

But you know, I was still pleased that despite a bad winter, and challenging driving conditions endured again and again, including sticky mud, only one sensor had gone wrong. Everything else was working fine. That said something about Sophie's innate quality. 

Sophie was first registered in April 2016, so is now eight years old. She barely looks it, thanks to a careful previous owner, an equally careful present owner, and low mileage - currently still only 65,500 when it 'ought' to be 80,000 or more. At the same eight year mark, Fiona had covered 132,500 miles, more than double. With of course corresponding accelerated wear and tear. So I do have good grounds for thinking that with ongoing care and consideration, Sophie could last me a long time, and not cost me nearly so much.

Readers, I am in fact starting to believe that there might be a Sophie Saga. Of epic length. Watch out.