2000 Saab 9-5, No Reserve....65k Miles on 2040-cars

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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: 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!