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Junkyard Gem: 1989 Saab 900 Turbo Convertible

I live in Colorado, where Saabs were loved deeply by residents going way back to the 96 (and I'm sure a few 92s were sold here in the 1950s, though I haven't found any in local car graveyards … yet). By far the easiest pre-GM Trollhattanites to find in Centennial State wrecking yards these days are the 1978-1993 900s, and I walk by a half-dozen for each one that I document as a Junkyard Gem. We admired a gloriously brown 900 Turbo two-door a few months back, but today's 900 Turbo is an extremely rare cabriolet version, the first I've found in a boneyard in at least 15 years. The convertible 900 was available only as a turbocharged version in the United States when it was introduced for the 1986 model year, and that continued through 1991. After that, a naturally-aspirated 900 convertible could be bought here. When in very nice condition, these cars can bring tidy sums. A super-low-mile '87 900 Turbo convertible just sold for $145,000 recently, in fact. This car has more than 843 times as many miles on the odometer as that car, however, and it shows every one of them. It's not terribly rusty, considering, but the sheet metal shows many battle scars, and the interior is about what you'd expect with 33-year-old leather. Last year's film adaptation of Haruki Murakami's short story, "Drive My Car," put the Saab 900 Turbo back into mainstream cultural awareness. However, that car is a two-door sedan; the best-known Saab 900 Turbo Convertible in cinema history is the one driven by Iben Hjelje's character in the film adaptation of the Nick Hornby novel, "High Fidelity." These cars were fairly quick for their time, with 160 horsepower from this DOHC 2.0-liter straight-four in 1989. Having seen more than my share of 900 Turbos going up against same-era BMW E30s and Acura Integras on road courses, I'd put my money on the Saab in a wheel-to-wheel race (that is, in a race short enough to keep the Swede's nervous engine alive). While a three-speed automatic was available on this car, the kind of Americans odd enough to buy Saabs in 1989 also tended to be the type that wanted manual transmissions. In fact, I can't recall ever seeing a (non-Opel-based) 900 with a slushbox. Yes, Opel! Starting in the 1994 model year, the 900 name went on a car based on the Opel Vectra platform. Later on, the Saab 9-5 and Saturn L-Series lived on the same chassis. Given all the luxury features and genuine performance, this car was a pretty good value for the price in 1989.

New owners of Saab don't get to use the name

Saab won't be revived as a Chinese-backed electric car brand. Aerospace and defense company Saab AB has declined to let the new owners of the dormant automaker's old designs and factory use the name on new cars, Automotive News reports. It's a blow to fans of the Swedish brand, who hoped the name would be revived on new vehicles coming out of the same factory as models like the 99 Turbo. National Electric Vehicle Sweden, known as NEVS, bought major assets of the Saab operation in 2012 following former parent Spyker's decision to liquidate the company in December 2011. This not only included the Trollhattan assembly plant in Sweden, but the rights to the Saab 9-3 and the platform of its successor. NEVS built some new 9-3s using leftover parts and powered by the old 2.0-liter turbo engines, with the intent to raise money to produce new electric vehicles for Europe and China – and to use the Saab name. When General Motors bought all of Saab Automobile in 2000, it used the name under license from the Saab AB. That permission was then passed to Spyker in 2010 and later NEVS, albeit without the griffin logo. But when NEVS sought creditor protection in 2014, Saab AB revoked the naming rights. Following reorganization, NEVS in August announced a deal with Dongfeng Motor Corp. to develop a new lineup of electric vehicles, which was revealed in December to include five new models by 2018, some assembled in China by 2020 – the first of which being an EV version of the old 9-3. However, Saab AB told Automotive News that discussions have ended regarding the use of the Saab name on these vehicles. NEVS owner Kai Johan Jiang told a Swedish radio station the company will find a new name to market the cars under when they go on sale. It's similar to what happened to SAIC when it purchased vehicle technology from bankrupt British carmaker MG Rover. While it had the tooling to essentially make the Rover 75, the brand name at the time belonged to BMW and barred SAIC from using it, so the Roewe brand was created in China. It's unclear why talks broke down and also where NEVS will get a new name (there aren't nicer ways to spell Saab, and it was originally an acronym, anyway). Will Saab AB attach its name to another line of cars? Probably not. What it does mean, however, is that Saab fans have to cling tighter to their old cars now. Perhaps that's for the best. Related Video:

Junkyard Gem: 1971 Saab 96

Americans could buy the very first mass-produced Saab car, the 92, all the way back in 1950. Few did, because a tiny and odd-looking Swedish car with a smoky two-stroke engine buzzing out 25 horsepower didn't seem suitable for highway use, especially when a new Plymouth business coupe sold for $1,371 (about $15,180 today). Then came the 93, notable to Americans mostly for being sold by novelist Kurt Vonnegut's Saab dealership in Massachusetts. The first Saab to win over respectable numbers of American car shoppers was the 96, introduced here for the 1961 model year. North American 96 sales continued through 1973, and I've managed to find one of the later 96s in a junkyard located near Pikes Peak in Colorado. North American sales of the much less oddball 99 began in the 1969 model year, and that car evolved directly into the original 900 that sold very well through the early 1990s. Still, some Americans living in icy regions stayed loyal to the 96, so Saab kept selling 96s here until federal emissions and safety regulations made such sales unprofitable. Meanwhile, Scandinavians could buy new 96s all the way through 1980. My grandfather, a self-taught engineer who set foot outside the city limits of St. Paul, Minn., only to race Corvettes at Elkhart Lake (in summer) and all manner of rust-prone imports on frozen lakes (in winter), had this Saab 96 when I was a kid. The somewhat uneven bodywork near street level is the result of house-paint-over-Bondo corrosion repairs, and I recall going on some terrifying high-speed rides around town with Grandpa, circa 1975, watching the pavement flash by through the holes in the floor as we headed to the VFW for the meat raffle. Hey, the St. Paul VFW had Grain Belt on tap for cheap, a consolation for those who failed to win any meat. After that, a man could take his Saab to an establishment selling authentic St. Paul booya. As I recall, this Saab finally broke in half at an ice race in the late 1970s and got replaced by a slightly less rusty Rabbit. The serious Saab 96 nuts— including my grandfather— preferred the two-stroke three-cylinder engine, due to its chainsaw racket and allegedly superior performance on ice. By 1969, however, a Ford-produced V4 became the only powerplant available in a new 96 on our shores (the V4 had been an option for a couple of years prior to that). Someone grabbed the 65-horsepower V4 before I reached this car.