Swedish soldiers called it “sugga,” or “the sow,” but you always hurt the one you love, they say. The official Volvo designation for the four-wheel-drive radio and command car was Volvo TP21, and the Volvo TP21 Sugga nickname came not from the snout-like front end, but rather the porcine rear aspect.
The Swedish Defense Forces had come to Volvo for replacements for the Volvo vehicles built during World War II. In the midst of a postwar boom for domestic and export vehicles, Volvo wasn’t particularly eager for the work but produced a variety of vehicles, up to and including heavy trucks for towing artillery and antiaircraft guns.
History/driving impressions originally published in AutoWeek July 23, 2001; republished by author John Matras
The TP21 – or “Cross-Country Personnel Carrier 21” – was developed by Volvo’s truck department, and was something of a hybrid. It combined a light truck chassis with a modified taxi body (from the PV 821/822, also called “the sow”), and featured part-time four-wheel drive with dual-range transfer case. It was shorter than its predecessor, with a 107.5-inch wheelbase, for enhanced maneuverability, though it still had a turning diameter of almost 40 feet. Behind its flat vertical-bar grille, designed solely for function rather than fashion, was a Volvo “ED” side-valve six-cylinder engine. A long-stroke design, it produced maximum torque at 1400 rpm and was rated at 90 hp at 3600 rpm. With driver and radio equipment, the TP21’s unladen weight was 5676 pounds.
Very few if any were exported new – though the surplus market saw them scattered around the world – and, in addition to one “elegant” station wagon built on the TP21 chassis, Volvo produced only about 720 between 1953 and 1958. Several wound up in the States in private hands, including one recently acquired by Volvo Cars of North America. VCNA’s “new” TP21 had been located out west, and was transported to Volvo’s headquarters in New Jersey on a flatbed truck because it was too big to fit in a standard car transporter.
VCNA’s TP21 is unrestored and somewhat rough, befitting its age and doubtless uncaring treatment from generations of Swedish GIs. Still, the six awakens with a rough grumble that bespeaks is general attitude. A rev-happy engine it isn’t. The long truck shifter is attached to a non-synchro four-speed transmission with gears that sing a contralto response to the engines gruff basso. In high range, maximum speed in first gear is 9 mph; starting in second is more practical. Second runs out of revs at 30 mph, and top speed for the TP21 is 55 mph. In first gear/low range, the TP21 creeps along with a max speed of six mph. Fuel consumption on the highway is less than 10 mpg, while off-road it is less than four. The fuel tank is 20 gallons, with 2 gallons reserve and jerrycans strapped to the rear quarters.
The interior has long since been stripped of its communications gear. The rear seats – with four-point belts–and the radio “tables” remain. The interior is stark and spare, with Varnings and switches labeled in Swedish. Flexible pipe snakes through the cabin to provide heat to the backseat. Amidst the olive drab, however, is the taxi’s chrome-plated instrument panel with art deco numerals. Other standard features include a bicycle rack on the back, and connectors next to the grill for a remote hot water heater.
The TP21 is heavy and slow but feels relentless, much like its erstwhile namesake, and is no doubt, with almost 10 inches of ground clearance, just as happy in the mud. The only power steering is in the shoulders of the driver, and air-conditioning, if needed, comes from a flip-out windshield.
The Volvo TP21 Sugga was replaced by the Volvo TL22, a true light truck with up to six drive axles, superior to the TP as a military vehicle. But Swedish troops never loved it enough to give it a nickname, as they did for “the sow,” a hybrid of a different sort.
Addendum: Many thanks to Volvo’s Dan Johnston for making the Volvo TP21 Sugga available and helping with research on one of the many wonderful toys I got to drive during my career. Dan was a true professional, a good guy and a dear friend. I regret never having had him teach me how to surf.
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