2000 Saab 9-5 Aero 4-door 2.3l Hot Turbo 5 Speed Manual Fully Service No Reserve on 2040-cars

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Grainy leaked images show stillborn Castriota-designed Saab 9-3

The Saab faithful are going to be playing the "what if" game for years to come. It's one of the burdens of being a fan of a dead brand. A fresh batch of grainy 9-3 Phoenix images have made their way online, alleged shots of a design proposal penned by none other than Jason Castriota. The five-door looks to feature an honest liftback, though SaabsUnited.com says this particular vehicle was drawn up as part of a business plan in early 2011. As such, Castriota apparently told the site the final product was to look much more athletic than what we see here. While the low-resolution images make it difficult to tell much about the design, we certainly appreciate the familiar roofline, full band taillamps and the contrasting rear spoiler reminiscent of the old Saab 99 and 900 ducktails.
Unfortunately, we know all too well why this creation never saw the light of day. Would-be savior Victor Muller couldn't quite pull Saab out of its nosedive, and the company fell into bankruptcy before the 9-3 Phoenix could get off the ground. There's talk of the Phoenix platform and Saab brand having new life in other markets as EVs and even as gas cars, but the model seen here will likely never see production - let alone North American showrooms.
You can take a closer look at SverigesRadio.se - just make sure to have your translator ready if you don't speak Swedish.

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!

Saab didn't want this electric, 99-like delivery van from the 1970s

National Electric Vehicle Sweden (NEVS) purchased the remains of Saab in 2012 to turn it into an electric-only brand. While its vast heritage is turbocharged and rooted in racing, Saab didn't shy away from dabbling in battery-powered drivetrains, and there's an experimental mail delivery van in its official museum to prove it. The name Saab in the last paragraph should be followed by an asterisk. The prototype kind of looks like a 99 when viewed from the front, and it wears the soccer ball-style alloy wheels seen on several of the brand's models during the 1970s, but the museum's curator told Autoblog it was built in Linkoping, Sweden, by the company's defense and plane-making division. It's certainly a Saab, but not quite the kind you're likely thinking of. Engineers began the project in the early 1970s, at about the same time archrival Volvo launched its own experiments in the field of electrification. The idea was to create an electric, short-range distribution van that could be used by Sweden's postal service, for example. Two prototypes were built in 1975 and 1976, including the example in the museum, and each had a low-speed driving range of about 40 miles. Additional technical specifications are lost to history, partly because Saab's car-building division in Trollhattan -- the folks that developed the 99 and the 900, among others -- didn't like the van at all and wanted nothing to do with it. Saab electric van prototype View 2 Photos We peeked inside and under it and spotted a bulky, lead-acid battery pack integrated into a tray that could be pulled out from the back after flipping up the panel onto which part of the rear bumper was mounted. This layout was relatively common in early electric prototypes, like the Bus that Volkswagen developed in 1972 and tested in select German cities. Recharging the battery pack took hours, so swapping it out was considered the more practical alternative. Period documents and images confirm the electronics were mounted under the hood. Saab made two electric prototypes, including one it fitted with front-end parts like headlights (complete with wipers), turn signals, and a plastic grille from a 99. The second wore round headlights, bullet-shaped turn signals, and looked more like something you'd see in an episode of "Scooby Doo" than what you'd find in a Saab showroom. The van's resemblance to the 99 was purely artificial; it was its own thing, on its own chassis.