2004 Saab 9-3 Arc Sedan 4-door 2.0l on 2040-cars

Auto blog

Saab has ruined all Swedish cars for me

It's easy to dismiss my hatred of all Swedish automotive manufacturers as a simple result of bad experiences. I mean, we're all products of our own experiences, some we learn from, others we don't, and some we need to be hit over the head with time and time again. I've been hit over the head too many times with Saabs (and one lonely Volvo), and as a result, I can't bring myself to buy a Koenigsegg. It started with a 900 Turbo sedan. You know, the ugly duckling sister of the beautiful two-door coupe that spawned the Aero, which managed to look stunning from the front, and like a child with a full nappy (diaper) at the rear. I bought it at an auction (mistake number one) for $6,500 (AUD) because as a bloke in his early twenties, I wanted to be noticed – and a greasy-haired bespectacled musician driving a turbocharged Swedish luxury car was my way of standing out. On the drive home I noticed two things: one, it handled like it was on rails – it just gripped! And two, the turbo wasn't working. I took my new wheels to the mechanic, who promptly told me a custom exhaust system would solve the problem – mistake number two. During the fitting, Mr. Shonky's Repair Shop managed to fry some computer thingy. I won't try to remember or understand what it was, but he did tell me that it should have been replaced and that I would have to pay for it. I agreed. Mistake number three. Twelve months later I had spent more than double the original purchase price on repairs, and the turbo still wouldn't work. I sold it for about $4,000, and moved on to something more sensible. But the beautiful handling and quirky design had left an itch that I just couldn't scratch. Many cars and motorbikes later, I sold my Mazda RX-8 because it was too perfect. You know those cars that have spotless paint, an unmarked interior, low kilometers, and you're just too damn scared to park it anywhere? Yep, it was one of those. I would spend 30 to 40 minutes trying to find a vacant spot with vacant spots on either side, and even after leaving the car I would walk back to check if anyone had parked next to me. If they did, I moved. Not a low-anxiety vehicle. So I bought my second Saab – this time a 9-5 turbo wagon – from an auction. Wasn't that mistake number one? This one had reasonably low kilometers, and was even on LPG (a fairly common conversion is Australia – just not on Saabs) and only set me back $2,200. I drove it home, and low and behold, the turbo worked!

Why won't automakers slap on a turbo badge anymore?

Where have all the turbos gone? Not the actual pieces that go in the engine, mind you, those are everywhere these days as automakers downsize cylinder counts and boost efficiency and CO2 claims. But the turbo badges and fanfare are missing. Back when turbos were something to get excited about there was "turbo-driven," "turbonium," and "The Turbo Zone," among other silly lines. But now that basically every car is getting some sort of boost even on the lowliest trims, automakers are almost sliding in the turbos under the radar. Or if you look at some of the nomenclature, pretending they don't exist at all. The 911 Turbo badge shows where the car goes from being sane to lunatic. It's an important border. The latest automaker to hide that it has boosted the turbo presence is Porsche with the 2017 911 lineup. Even the standard Carrera models now get turbocharged flat-six engines, meaning the 911 Turbo models aren't quite as special as they once were. Porsche is in a sticky situation with this. The 911 Turbo, after all, signifies where the 911 family takes off from being a sports car and becomes the Ferrari fighter. The 911 Turbo badge shows where the car goes from being sane to lunatic. It's an important border, but now Porsche has crossed it and is trying to downplay the fact. There are a lot of exaggerations with displacement badges today, with claims the 2.0-liter turbo four in a Mercedes C Class equates to a naturally aspirated 3.0-liter six to make a C300. Volvo is pretty far up there, too, saying an XC90 T8 means V8 power, even though it's a 2.0-liter turbocharged and supercharged four with electric assist. I don't know why BMW can't just call the car a 330i Turbo, rather than inflating the numbers up to 340i. Saab tried all of this back in the '90s when it decided to turbocharge its entire lineup, from light pressure units all the way up to models actually called "Saab 9-3 HOT" (for high-output turbo). But then the brand deleted any external reference to the turbo under the hood and people wondered why they were buying a $42,000 four-cylinder convertible. And that didn't turn out well. Even though these turbo replacements often make more power than their naturally aspirated predecessors, they're very different engines. People knew something changed when they exchanged their leased 328i with a 3.0-liter six for a 328i with a 2.0-liter turbo four.

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.