When Hars Rekestad set out to sell old Volvos and spare parts on the Internet, he never dreamed he would descend into a war with Ford Motor Co. that would involve a S100,000 lawsuit, allegations of "cyber-squatting" and a national hubbub that would bring television crews swarming to his weathered wooden farmhouse. But he did. Never mind that Mr. Rekestad, a former rally-race driver, has grease under his fingernails, no employees and just a tiny basement office with a concrete floor and no heating. Nor that he'd rather be fixing up a 1951 Volvo 444 or reading a Gunter Grass novel than talking to lawyers about trademarks and Internet domain names.Ford, which owns Volvo Cars, decided earlier this year that Mr Rekestad was a dangerous pirate. And pirates, Ford said, must be stopped. What ensued offers a window on Ford's love-hate relationship with the Internet. Like other big auto makers, Ford loves the idea of using the Net for buying components, advertising and fostering a sense of community among customers.
But it is less happy with how the Internet has weakened its ability to control its intellectual property. So Ford felt impelled to go after Mr. Rekestad's website, ClassicVolvo.com. "Ford feels it has the legal right to protect its brand equity," says a Ford spokeswoman, Kristen Kinley. "Ford has invested billions of dollars over the last 100 years to develop its reputation and its trademarks." Mr Rekestad, 48 years old, never thought twice about trademarks until one muggy day in late May, when a fat envelope from Detroit landed in his mailbox. Inside was a thick letter from a law firm employed by Ford, which said that the name of his website violated US anti-piracy law by using the Volvo brand name without Ford's permission.
The document ordered him to stop using the web address, claimed $100,000 in damages, and noted that Ford had filed suit against him in a district court for eastern Michigan. The pages included a contract under which Mr Rekestad could waive the law firm's need to send official legal documentation to notify him of the lawsuit. The lawyers threw in a self-addressed envelope and some US postage stamps for good measure.
Mr Rekestad was perplexed, and not just because the stamps were worthless in Sweden. As he saw it, his website offered Volvo free advertising and goodwill. "Ford should really send us a check, not a lawsuit," he fumed on ClassicVolvo.com. Besides, he asked, what was he supposed to call his business? ClassicVolov? ClassicCarsFromSwedenNotSaab.com? Even Volvo Cars was baffled. Says Ingmar Hesslefors, a spokesman for Volvo Cars in Sweden, "what Ford did is shooting down sparrows with ballistic missiles." But the bird, it turns out, had some weapons of his own.
Since that day in May, Mr Rekestad has bombarded Ford and Volvo officials-with electronic-mail, explaining that what he does for Volvo is good. He has posted a crossed-out Ford logo on his site. He has even purchased, for $75, an alternative site, ClassicVolvo.nu, which could force Ford to sue him all over again. His next move: If Ford proceeds with the lawsuit, he plans to collect donations and petition signatures from agitated Swedes, for whom Volvo remains a symbol of national pride. Support for his struggle is strong: Swedish newspapers have backed him in editorials; encouraging e-mails have doubled the traffic on his site since May to 550 visits a day. One e-mail even mimicked the song of Janis JoDlin fame: Oh lord, don't you ever buy me a Ford."
Mr Rekestad may be no match for Ford. But he's no ordinary Volvo enthusiast, either. In fact, he's something of a fanatic. He bought his first Volvo, a second-hand 1951 PV 444 with no brakes, for roughly 100 kronor ($10) when he was 12. Three years later, he spent 300 kronor on a second Volvo 444, from 1957. Back in Sweden, after junketing around the continent, Mr Rekestad went into the parts business. He bought up junk Volvos, cannibalised them and sold off the pieces. He also started a Volvo newsletter, though which he sold restored classic Volvos and packets of Volvo parts. Slowly but surely, he gained a solid reputation among Volvo fans in Sweden and beyond. Then, in 1996, Mr Rekestad learned about the Internet, which sparked ambitions he never knew he had. He could now publish his newsletter on the Web, allowing him to buy and sell cars and parts by email.
ClassicVolvo.com was an instant success, receiving more than 250 visits a a global portal for all things related to classic Volvos, defined as cars more than 25 years old. Fishing for cash to expand, he offered last year to sell his domain name to anyone for $250,0000. "I wanted to get cash to develop the site," he says. "I didn't really know how to go about it." Unfortunately for Mr Rekestad, the offer to sell the domain name also drew the attention of the holding company that controls the Volvo trademark, which is owned 50% by Ford and 50% by truck maker AB Volvo. The holding company contacted Ford's legal department, and the letter to Mr Rekestad followed.
Ford says the action was warranted. Among other things, says Ms. Kinley, the spokeswoman, the auto maker worries that visitors to Mr. Rekestad's site could think it has the full backing of Volvo and Ford. That assumption could create confusion and possibly anger potential customers. In at least one case, she explains, a Web site based on another company's name contained pornographic material. Ford is waiting for a district court judge in Michigan to set a hearing date for its case against ClassicVolvo.com. But whatever the outcome, Mr Rekestad intends to press ahead. He has already bought new Volvo-related domain names, he says, including ClassicVolvo.ny. "It will take them years to shut me down," he says. "I will not give up just like that."
Copyright © 2000 Indian Express Newspapers (Bombay) Ltd.