No I'm not talking about The 850 Rear Wheel Drive dream again. I've been there as we all have and we all know how that dream ends... you wake up to reality and spin the hell outta your front tires to forget. Not the Dream Car Dream; I wasn't cruising in a black 1970 Charger 440R/T or a E39 M5-both of which are out of my credit limit.

This is the point where I say I don't buy much into dreams. I don't really. I don't usually tell people about them either. But they mean something as I'm sure we have all heard about the importance and/or the meaning of them in the past. The usually fall into 4 categories for me: Friends, Family, Sex, and Cars.

This dream obviously is about cars. Or a car. I'm talking about The 240 Dream. That's right. The 240 Dream. At first it came about a year after I had my S70 when I was still totally enamored with it. It came every so often after that. Not much to it. Just a fantasizing dream about which I was back in or about to be back in a 240 again. Nothing major.

But this one was was far more vivid than the others. I don't know why. It was set some where in the country and I had come across a road with two 240s sitting on the side of the road, neglected. One was a red pre-'85 turbo wagon. The other was a gold post-'85 sedan. I talked to the man inside about the cars and their current position. He told me both were more or less for sale. I went to inspect the two. The turbo wagon was in far better shape and needed less work which immediately told me it cost more. But it had features I wanted like the quad headlights, turbo, stick shift. The sedan was an NA and was in much worse condition. The interior was awful, the lights were yellowed and cockeyed, oil was all over it. And it was automatic.

Needless to say I never wanted to drive the turbo. I had the owner drive it. It ran like crap. The transmission was shot; it creaked and popped when put into drive, it held gears, and it would stay in park without forcing it. The engine smoked needlessly as I could tell many gaskets were long gone. But I loved it. It held so many possibilities. I could hear my self in the dream telling my self what I was going to do with it and how much time I would spend with it. I could see a future in this relationship beyond that of any I have had before.

But then I woke up. Mouth dry, wanting to sleep more to get back into the dream and finish the deal remembering the bargain I was about to get. Dreams are just that: I'm dumbe. But I've never wanted another 240 more than I want one right now. And it's all because of I'm dumbe.