Action Required: 1000 Volvos Up For Repossession
In the annals of repossession lore, there exists a tale so absurd, so brazen, that even the most hardened repo agents might consider it too wild to chase. This is the story of North Korea, a fleet of 1,000 Volvo 144 sedans, and an unpaid bill that has ballooned to over $300 million. If ever there were a job for a crack team of repo specialists armed with diplomatic immunity and a sense of humor, this might be it.
It all began in the 1970s, a decade when bell-bottoms were wide, disco was king, and Sweden’s economy was riding high on a socialist wave. Flush with optimism, Swedish companies like Volvo decided to extend an olive branch—or in this case, 1,000 shiny olive-green sedans—to North Korea. Why? Well, the hope was that the hermit kingdom, sitting atop vast untapped mineral wealth, would play nice and open up lucrative trade opportunities.
Spoiler alert: they didn’t.
Instead, Pyongyang pulled the classic move of that sketchy cousin who borrows your car “for a weekend” and never returns it. The Volvos rolled into North Korea, and payment? Well, that just never showed up. Think of it as the diplomatic equivalent of a bounced check, except North Korea didn’t even bother pretending to write one.
To this day, the Volvos are still on the streets of Pyongyang. Like Cuba’s vintage Cadillacs, these Swedish sedans have become relics of a bygone era, chugging along thanks to North Korea’s famed ingenuity (read: duct tape and sheer stubbornness). Foreign visitors occasionally snap photos of these four-wheeled Swedish ghosts, their boxy frames a reminder of Sweden’s failed attempt at economic diplomacy.
But the Swedes haven’t forgotten. Oh no. Every year, the Swedish Export Credits Guarantee Board tallies up the debt, adding interest like a patient yet increasingly irritated landlord. The bill now stands at over $300 million, a sum that could buy a small island—or perhaps fund a North Korean fleet upgrade, should they ever feel inclined to pay.
And here’s the kicker: Volvo itself is now owned by Zhejiang Geely Holding, a Chinese company operating within the shadow of another communist regime. So technically, North Korea is now stiffing China in a convoluted twist of global irony. Somewhere, there’s a Beijing bureaucrat staring at a spreadsheet, muttering, “Wait a minute…”
The question is: what now? After 50 years of diplomatic letters that presumably went straight to Kim Jong-Un’s junk folder, maybe it’s time to call in the professionals. Picture it: a ragtag team of repo agents armed with tow trucks, night-vision goggles, and a healthy disregard for border security. They infiltrate Pyongyang under cover of darkness, hotwire the fleet of Volvos, and make a daring escape down the Korean Peninsula. Cue the action movie montage.
Of course, this will never happen. North Korea will likely keep joyriding those Volvos until the wheels fall off—or until Sweden gives up and writes it off as the world’s longest-running bad debt. Either way, it’s a reminder that even in international diplomacy, there’s always that one guy who ruins the game for everyone else.
So, to all repo agents out there: if you’re looking for the ultimate challenge, there’s a fleet of 1,000 Volvos in Pyongyang with your name on it. Just make sure your passport is up to date and your sense of humor fully intact.
Dave