2007 Saab 9-3 Aero Sedan 4-door 2.8l on 2040-cars

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Saab's Victor Muller wanted to nix Griffin, return to airplane emblem

According to Just-Auto.com Victor Muller wasn't a fan of the Saab Griffin logo. The executive was quoted as saying he wanted to "abolish" the Griffin logo and return to the airplane emblem. Muller made it clear that if he'd had his way, the propeller would have replaced the Griffin across the Saab lineup long ago.
National Electric Vehicle Sweden, the company that recently bought Saab, was forced to abandon the Griffin logo due to the fact that the emblem is still used by truck manufacturer Scania. The manufacturer is reportedly concerned about potential Chinese counterfeiting - NEVS is owned by Youngman, a Chinese automaker - though it's unclear how that relationship would lead to illegal copies.
Either way, NEVS has said the loss of the Griffin logo isn't that important to the company so long as it can continue to build on the Saab name. Muller, meanwhile, said he wishes NEVS luck in the company's electric-vehicle endeavor, but that he doesn't understand its new business model.

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

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!