In California, Volvo 240s are going to the crusher in huge numbers as the traditional Volvo-buying demographic transitions to the Prius. This has been going on for at least a decade, and every wrecking yard in the Los Angeles and San Francisco areas has at least ten 240s in stock these days. Here in Colorado, the pace is slower but I still see a fair number of 240s (and 140s) in Denver-area yards. Today’s find is an early example of the breed, very straight and completely rust-free. Despite what fanatical 240 worshipers say, the 240 two-doors just aren’t valuable enough to be worth saving once they get a little tired.
I once believed that these “Lambda Sond” emblems indicated the presence of a more powerful engine, ideally suited for bombing through logging roads above the Arctic Circle. Unfortunately, all this means is that there’s an oxygen-sensor-based feedback fuel-injection system in the car. Admittedly, this was unusual in 1977, but still not very exciting.
Because of American headlight regulations of the era, these hideous single-round-lamp abominations were installed in the first few model years of US-market 240s. By the late 1970s, these cars had better-looking quad-rectangle headlight rigs.
While the wiring in these cars sometimes crapped out, the good old B engines held together for decades.
This one even came with air conditioning, which was serious luxury for 1977 Volvo buyers.
This must be one of the very first “My Kid Is An Honor Student” bumper stickers, judging from its condition.
The 240 Jihad is going to hate this: 56,518 miles on the clock! This car probably spent decades in storage before getting junked.
The presence of keys means that it was most likely sold to the wrecking yard by an auction house that got the car as a trade-in or from an insurance company.
I’ll bet factory AM/FM radios for these things are very rare, but not at all sought-after.
Here’s a nice collection of Volvo 240 ads from around the world.