IF THERE IS one number that has kept pace with SA’s ever-increasing graft rate, it’s the number of battery-powered devices in our everyday lives. Not so long ago all we had was a rechargeable shaver. Now there are mobile phones, MP3 players, digital cameras, portable gaming devices, e-readers and tablets. The thing is, all of these devices tend to run flat on a regular basis, requiring a power-up before they can continue to annoy/entertain/interrupt us once more.

You’d think we’d be quite used to feeling electrically stranded every so often. Obviously we’re not, as my dismay upon returning from a six-day trip to Europe recently proved.

After organising to be collected from the airport and delivered home, I had planned to surprise my daughter by fetching her from school. So with all the confidence Tyson would have felt stepping into the ring with Homer Simpson, I jumped into the XC60, inserted the remote and pressed the starter button. Nothing. Victory to Homer by technical knockout. No matter how many times I pressed it, the Volvo remained eerily silent bar a few disconcerting click sounds.

A quick call to the Volvo dealer confirmed what I already knew – the battery was flat. They suggested I attempt a jumpstart and bring it in the following morning for a check-up. Surprise ruined, I arranged with a friend to collect my offspring and waited patiently for the family Renault to arrive later that evening. Fortunately the jumpstart went off without a hitch and the car grumbled into life after a couple of minutes.

Volvo’s technician carried out a lengthy draw test the following day and reported everything to be within spec. Although the XC60 had been garaged for a week, he could find no reason for the 10-month-old battery’s failure. He cleared the fault codes caused by the interruption of power and had the car washed – much appreciated. The whole episode was followed shortly by another trip abroad, with the Volvo again enduring a week of garage time. What do you know, it started first time. I hear Tyson’s people want a rematch.

PREVIOUS LONG TERM UPDATE HERE

SOME SAY SPACE is the ultimate luxury. Drive past a multi-hectare private estate or fly long haul first class and it’s hard not to disagree. But luxury is more than just having room to stretch your legs or to throw a boomerang on the front lawn. Take the SsangYong Stavic for example, acres of space, but there’s precious little about it you’d call luxurious. The same can be said of recent American cars, though it’s clear that situation is fast-improving. I reckon true luxury is a combination of many things, some measurable, some not. Space is relative to your needs. In terms of actual volume, the rear passenger area in the XC60 is its weakest attribute. But I only have one daughter, she’s eight and to her the back seat of the Volvo is home away from home. Down goes the middle fold-out armrest, with handy storage for her Nintendo DS and flip-out cupholders, and she’s ready to trip. What more could a kid want? ‘A touchscreen entertainment system built into the back of the front seats’ she says with longing in her eyes. Uh, yes that would be nice. The more buttons you have to fiddle with as a kid, the happier you are. Like I said some things are relative. For me, it’s not the button count that matters, it’s how they feel and work when you’re using them. The dashboard of the XC60 isn’t a button fest; it’s simple and incredibly intuitive. I was reminded of this fact while test-driving the new Ford Focus in California recently. In top spec, it has a touchscreen interface, voice controls and a steering wheel with two five-way controllers and eight other buttons spread around it. Looks fantastic and I’m sure it’ll be a hit with the kind of techno-savvy, socially connected, information junkies we’re breeding these days, but for me, the Volvo’s steering wheel-mounted controls do everything I want them to, in true Scandinavian simplicity. Even my father, who could tell you a thing or two about the war, would have no trouble adjusting the cruise control speed or the volume for Fine Music Radio. And that for me is luxury.

Then there’s perception. How do people feel about Volvo? I’ll be the first to acknowledge that there are brands out there with far more badge appeal, but plotted on a graph containing every attainable car brand from Alfa to Zotye, Volvo would feature strongly enough. As an older friend of the family, who just happens to drive a large SUV of German descent, recently mentioned, ‘Now you’re travelling in style, my boy.’ Exactly.

PREVIOUS LONG TERM UPDATE HERE

IF YOU’VE READ the Cannonball Run story in our February issue, you’ll know the whole thing started because of an argument between guys who rated cars based on a stopwatch and a measuring tape and guys who reckoned a better measure was a thorough and lengthy on-road interrogation. That Brock and Co. were able to carry out their long-term investigation in such an accelerated fashion (4500km in less than two days) almost without incident was fortunate in more ways than one. That much reckless fun doesn’t fly in today’s more sensible world. Which brings me neatly to the rather sensible Volvo.

13000km in what Brock Yates would no doubt term a ‘Swedish truck’ has proved there’s a lot more to the XC60 D5 than mere technical specifications. Its claimed 0-100kph time of 8.9sec fails to relay the rising torque tide that, dopey auto kick-down aside, easily punches you past slower vehicles. Its 1439mm cabin width may prompt calculator-in-hand types to think it inferior to a wider competitor. But they have not experienced the practically peerless comfort of the front pews, even after a thousand-kilometre road trip, or experienced the daily de-stressing effect of its effortless ergonomics. Well that’s not strictly true – the dual-zone climate system does not have a ‘mono’ function, which necessitates an irksome adjustment of both temperature dials when you want to hog all the air vents. I love the ease of the sliding door that covers the usefully deep cupholder/personal storage bin and I ashamedly admit to using the remote from a sizeable distance to open the powered tailgate in both crowded shopping mall car parks and packed cherry farms. In my defence it’s painfully slow on the uptake and you look silly waiting around, bulging berried beer boxes in hand, as it whirrs slowly skywards. Fortunately gravity more than doubles its downswing velocity, so you don’t have to wait around while opportunists help themselves to your groceries.

That recent cherry-picking trip to Ceres also proved the D5’s open road frugality. 140km into the 70-litre tank, the OBC reckoned we could still do a thousand more. Now that’s the kind of figure Brock would definitely approve of. Come to think of it the Volvo could’ve been a Cannonball legend. And if, in the unlikely event of a crash, well…