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Motorweek looks back at 1983 Saab 900S

These days, Saab is a zombie marque. Technically, the brand is still shambling around under the ownership of National Electric Vehicle Sweden, and there are continued promises of an electric version of the 9-3. However, we all suspect that the company is never really coming back, at least not as the quirky Swedish brand of the past. That's what makes watching this latest Retro Review of John Davis and the Motorweek crew driving a non-turbo 1983 Saab 900S so special. This is a great chance to see Saab still alive and kicking. While not one of the more famous turbocharged examples, the naturally aspirated 900S is still a quintessential Saab in every other way. The reviewers definitely aren't sold on the looks though, and there are plenty of jokes at its expense. Although, only paying attention to the polarizing exterior styling makes missing the good handling and immense interior utility easy. Sadly, without the aid of forced induction, the 900 offers very lackadaisical acceleration. According to this clip, the sprint to 60 miles per hour is more of jog in a leisurely 12.2 seconds. At the brand's best, Saab provided the motoring world with an alternative. If you didn't want just another boxy sedan, the brand offered something like nothing else on the road. Plus, drivers found a well-tuned turbocharged engine that provided good performance for the day. It's a company worth remembering, despite the current state of things.

Junkyard Gem: 1988 Saab 900

Saab had a cult following in North America going back to the two-stroke Saab 96, but it wasn't until the 900 made its debut for the 1978 model year that the marque started to be considered a mainstream – if still a bit odd – brand here. Based on the venerable 99 but seeming a lot more modern, the 900 sold well to those who wanted to drive something sensibly Scandinavian but didn't want the stodginess of a Volvo. These cars were especially popular in Colorado, and I found this high-mile-but-solid '88 in a Denver self-service wrecking yard. Nearly made it to 300,000 miles, but it never got the chance. The key is still in the console-mounted ignition switch, and the steel lanyard indicates that this car went to the wrecking yard via an insurance-company or dealership-trade-in auction. Since the car has no major body damage, that means that its final owner traded it in – reluctantly, we hope – on another car, and nobody was willing to bid over scrap value for the elderly Swede at auction. Most such auctions have an arrangement with a local wrecking yard to take all the unsold cars for a set price, and that's what we can assume happened to this car. Chances are that it was still in running condition when it showed up here. You could get a 1988 Saab 900 with a three-speed Borg-Warner automatic transmission, but I can't recall having ever seen one so equipped. Most Saab 900 buyers insisted on manuals. The engine in this car is a slant-four based on the same Triumph engine used in the Triumph TR7. By the 1980s, Saab had made sufficient improvements to the design that it was several orders of magnitude more reliable than its British Leyland ancestors. This one made 110 horses, which did an acceptable job of moving the car's 2,695 pounds. This content is hosted by a third party. To view it, please update your privacy preferences. Manage Settings. This ad sums up the way Saabs were marketed in the United States in 1988. Related Video: Featured Gallery Junked 1988 Saab 900 View 16 Photos Auto News Saab Hatchback

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!