1994 Volvo 940, No Reserve on 2040-cars

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Volvo 850 T5 R pickup conversion is ready for a cool yule

There are plenty of ways to get your holiday tree home from the farm, but few are so classy as this Volvo 850 ute. Built in Sweden and shipped to Belgium, the car wears all of the necessary kit to pass as a 850R, and with a turbocharged 2.3-liter five cylinder under the hood, this creation should have no trouble dashing through the snow. Looks like a mighty fine use of an otherwise derelict Volvo wagon to us, though we have to imagine all that torque steer and no weight over the aft would make for all sorts of silliness once the roads went slick.
Still, if it were our Sawzall, we'd be happier with the keys to a certain BMW M5 utility in our pocket. Or, you know, the 3 Series conversion BMW whipped up not too long ago. You can head over to Autofans.be for a closer look at the 850 ute.

Junkyard Gem: 1983 Volvo 240 DL Sedan

The most iconic of all the Volvos — all the Swedish cars, for that matter — sold in the United States is and always will be the brick-shaped 200 series, which could be purchased new here from the 1975 model year all the way through 1993. Though it was an evolution of the earlier 140 series and looked nearly identical to its ancestor from any rear angle, the 240 (and, to a much lesser extent, 260) remains the most recognizable Volvo ever made. Because these cars were quite sturdy and inspired such devotion from their owners, plenty of them remain on the road to this dayÂ… and that means plenty of them wear out every year and end up taking that final tow-truck ride to the boneyard. Here's a bread-and-butter mid-1980s 244, with the sensible four-on-the-floor overdrive manual transmission and well-oxidized Richelieu Red paint, found in a self-service yard near Denver, Colorado. Prior to the 1980 model year, U.S.-market Volvo 200s were named according to a very logical system: the model name was a three-digit number, with the first digit indicating the car series, the second digit representing the number of engine cylinders, and the third digit showing the number of doors. Typically, the trim level would come after that. Just to confuse everyone, Volvo did away with everything but the trim levels when identifying these cars. Thus, this car would have been badged as a 244 DL during the 1975-1979 period, but for the first half of the 1980s it was called simply the Volvo DL. Of course, everyone who knows old Volvos today just calls this a 244, period. DL stood for Deluxe, so of course it was the cheapest trim level. The list price on this car started at $11,085, or about $31,090 in 2021 dollars. That was cheaper than a new BMW 320i ($13,290 or $37,275 now), but more expensive than more luxurious and powerful Japanese competitors such as the Datsun 810 Maxima by Nissan ($10,869 or $30,485 today) and Mazda 626 Luxury Sedan ($8,895 or $24,950 today). If you insisted on an automatic transmission in your '83 DL sedan, the price tag went up an additional 390 bucks, or about $1,094 now. This car has the base four-speed manual with the overdrive actuated by a switch on the shift knob. With 107 horsepower from this 2.3-liter straight-four engine, this car wasn't particularly quick. However, it weighed less than 3,000 pounds (despite its blocky appearance), so it got out of its own way well enough when equipped with a manual transmission.

The next-generation wearable will be your car

This year's CES has had a heavy emphasis on the class of device known as the "wearable" – think about the Apple Watch, or Fitbit, if that's helpful. These devices usually piggyback off of a smartphone's hardware or some other data connection and utilize various onboard sensors and feedback devices to interact with the wearer. In the case of the Fitbit, it's health tracking through sensors that monitor your pulse and movement; for the Apple Watch and similar devices, it's all that and some more. Manufacturers seem to be developing a consensus that vehicles should be taking on some of a wearable's functionality. As evidenced by Volvo's newly announced tie-up with the Microsoft Band 2 fitness tracking wearable, car manufacturers are starting to explore how wearable devices will help drivers. The On Call app brings voice commands, spoken into the Band 2, into the mix. It'll allow you to pass an address from your smartphone's agenda right to your Volvo's nav system, or to preheat your car. Eventually, Volvo would like your car to learn things about your routines, and communicate back to you – or even, improvise to help you wake up earlier to avoid that traffic that might make you late. Do you need to buy a device, like the $249 Band 2, and always wear it to have these sorts of interactions with your car? Despite the emphasis on wearables, CES 2016 has also given us a glimmer of a vehicle future that cuts out the wearable middleman entirely. Take Audi's new Fit Driver project. The goal is to reduce driver stress levels, prevent driver fatigue, and provide a relaxing interior environment by adjusting cabin elements like seat massage, climate control, and even the interior lighting. While it focuses on a wearable device to monitor heart rate and skin temperature, the Audi itself will use on-board sensors to examine driving style and breathing rate as well as external conditions – the weather, traffic, that sort of thing. Could the seats measure skin temperature? Could the seatbelt measure heart rate? Seems like Audi might not need the wearable at all – the car's already doing most of the work. Whether there's a device on a driver's wrist or not, manufacturers seem to be developing a consensus that vehicles should be taking on some of a wearable's functionality.