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Junkyard Gem: 2004 Saab 9-5 Arc Wagon

As I work on my project of documenting automotive history via the machinery I find in car graveyards around the country, blank spots in the junkyard record keep showing themselves. I've remedied the lack of discarded BMW 3- and 5-Series cars in recent months, through the E46 and E39 respectively, and now I'm trying to move past the 900 in the Saab timeline. We've got the 9000 covered, and now it's the turn of the 9-3 and 9-5. Here's an '04 9-5 Arc Wagon, found in a Denver yard recently (I shot a 9-3 on the same trip and you'll see it in the near future). General Motors took over Saab in 2000, after more than a decade of 50% ownership, and so the 9-5 (or 95 if you prefer) had plenty of Opel/Holden/Vauxhall DNA in its cells. Its closest American-market relative (other than the 9-3) was the Saturn L-Series. However, you couldn't get a Saturn with a proper Saab engine under the hood, and by "proper" we mean one descended from the original Triumph Slant-4. This 2.3T turbocharged version sent 220 horsepower to the front wheels, making this a nicely quick wagon. It appears that this car endured some lean times as it approached the end of its road, with the kind of leaky-side-glass repair you do only when you know you're a car's final owner. You could get the 9-5 Wagon as the Linear, Arc, or Aero models in 2004. The Aero was the factory-hot-rod version, while the Arc was more about luxury. The leather seats in this Arc still look pretty good. Even though this car's ancestry is more German than Swedish, it has the traditional Saab console-mounted ignition switch. When it came time for The General to sell Subaru Imprezas with Saab badging, however, the ignition switches stayed in the non-Saab locations. At least the Saab-badged Chevy Trailblazer had the switch in the Trollhatten-approved location. It doesn't look as quirky as the early Saabs, which were born from Flying Barrels, but it stood up well against the competing cars offered to America's ever-shrinking pool of station wagon shoppers. Built in Sweden by Swedes! Would this have happened with an Audi wagon?   Featured Gallery Junked 2004 Saab 9-5 Arc Wagon View 26 Photos Auto News Saab Automotive History Wagon Junkyard Gems

What car brand should come back?

Congratulations, wishful thinker! You've been granted one wish by the automotive genie or wizard or leprechaun or whoever has been gifted with that magical ability. You get to pick one expired, retired or fired automotive brand and resurrect it from its heavenly peace! But which one? That's a tough decision and not one to be made lightly. As we know from car history, the landscape is littered with failed brands that just didn't have what it took to cut it in the dog-eat-dog world of vehicle design, engineering and marketing. So many to choose from! Because I am not a car historian, I'll leave it to a real expert to present a complete list of history's automotive misses from which you can choose, if you're a stickler about that sort of thing. And since I'm most familiar with post-World War II cars and brands, that's what I'm going to stick to (although Maxwell, Cord and some others could make strong arguments). So, with the parameters established, let's get started, shall we? Hudson: I admit, I really don't know a lot about Hudson, except that stock car drivers apparently did pretty well with them back in the day, and Paul Newman played one in the first Cars movie. But really, isn't that enough to warrant consideration? Frankly, I think the Paul Newman connection is reason enough. What other actor who drove race cars was cooler? James Dean? Steve McQueen? James Garner? Paul Walker? But, I digress. That's a story for another day. Plymouth: As the scion of a Dodge family (my grandfather had a Dodge truck, and my mom had not one, but two Dodge Darts – the rear-wheel-drive ones with slant sixes in them, not the other one they don't make any more), I tend to think of Plymouth as the "poor man's Dodge." But then you have to consider the many Hemi-powered muscle cars sold under the Plymouth brand, such as the Road Runner, the GTX, the Barracuda, and so on. Was there a more affordable muscle car than Plymouth? When you place it in the context of "affordable muscle," Plymouth makes a pretty strong argument for reanimation. Oldsmobile: When I was a teenager, all the cool kids had Oldsmobile Cutlasses, the downsized ones that came out in 1978. At one point, the Olds Cutlass was the hottest selling car in the land, if you can believe that. Then everybody started buying Honda Civics and Accords and Toyota Corollas and Camrys, and you know the rest. But going back farther, there's the 442 – perhaps Olds' finest hour when it came to muscle cars.

Junkyard Gem: 1971 Saab 96

Americans could buy the very first mass-produced Saab car, the 92, all the way back in 1950. Few did, because a tiny and odd-looking Swedish car with a smoky two-stroke engine buzzing out 25 horsepower didn't seem suitable for highway use, especially when a new Plymouth business coupe sold for $1,371 (about $15,180 today). Then came the 93, notable to Americans mostly for being sold by novelist Kurt Vonnegut's Saab dealership in Massachusetts. The first Saab to win over respectable numbers of American car shoppers was the 96, introduced here for the 1961 model year. North American 96 sales continued through 1973, and I've managed to find one of the later 96s in a junkyard located near Pikes Peak in Colorado. North American sales of the much less oddball 99 began in the 1969 model year, and that car evolved directly into the original 900 that sold very well through the early 1990s. Still, some Americans living in icy regions stayed loyal to the 96, so Saab kept selling 96s here until federal emissions and safety regulations made such sales unprofitable. Meanwhile, Scandinavians could buy new 96s all the way through 1980. My grandfather, a self-taught engineer who set foot outside the city limits of St. Paul, Minn., only to race Corvettes at Elkhart Lake (in summer) and all manner of rust-prone imports on frozen lakes (in winter), had this Saab 96 when I was a kid. The somewhat uneven bodywork near street level is the result of house-paint-over-Bondo corrosion repairs, and I recall going on some terrifying high-speed rides around town with Grandpa, circa 1975, watching the pavement flash by through the holes in the floor as we headed to the VFW for the meat raffle. Hey, the St. Paul VFW had Grain Belt on tap for cheap, a consolation for those who failed to win any meat. After that, a man could take his Saab to an establishment selling authentic St. Paul booya. As I recall, this Saab finally broke in half at an ice race in the late 1970s and got replaced by a slightly less rusty Rabbit. The serious Saab 96 nuts— including my grandfather— preferred the two-stroke three-cylinder engine, due to its chainsaw racket and allegedly superior performance on ice. By 1969, however, a Ford-produced V4 became the only powerplant available in a new 96 on our shores (the V4 had been an option for a couple of years prior to that). Someone grabbed the 65-horsepower V4 before I reached this car.