2000 Saab 9-5 on 2040-cars

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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

Why won't automakers slap on a turbo badge anymore?

Where have all the turbos gone? Not the actual pieces that go in the engine, mind you, those are everywhere these days as automakers downsize cylinder counts and boost efficiency and CO2 claims. But the turbo badges and fanfare are missing. Back when turbos were something to get excited about there was "turbo-driven," "turbonium," and "The Turbo Zone," among other silly lines. But now that basically every car is getting some sort of boost even on the lowliest trims, automakers are almost sliding in the turbos under the radar. Or if you look at some of the nomenclature, pretending they don't exist at all. The 911 Turbo badge shows where the car goes from being sane to lunatic. It's an important border. The latest automaker to hide that it has boosted the turbo presence is Porsche with the 2017 911 lineup. Even the standard Carrera models now get turbocharged flat-six engines, meaning the 911 Turbo models aren't quite as special as they once were. Porsche is in a sticky situation with this. The 911 Turbo, after all, signifies where the 911 family takes off from being a sports car and becomes the Ferrari fighter. The 911 Turbo badge shows where the car goes from being sane to lunatic. It's an important border, but now Porsche has crossed it and is trying to downplay the fact. There are a lot of exaggerations with displacement badges today, with claims the 2.0-liter turbo four in a Mercedes C Class equates to a naturally aspirated 3.0-liter six to make a C300. Volvo is pretty far up there, too, saying an XC90 T8 means V8 power, even though it's a 2.0-liter turbocharged and supercharged four with electric assist. I don't know why BMW can't just call the car a 330i Turbo, rather than inflating the numbers up to 340i. Saab tried all of this back in the '90s when it decided to turbocharge its entire lineup, from light pressure units all the way up to models actually called "Saab 9-3 HOT" (for high-output turbo). But then the brand deleted any external reference to the turbo under the hood and people wondered why they were buying a $42,000 four-cylinder convertible. And that didn't turn out well. Even though these turbo replacements often make more power than their naturally aspirated predecessors, they're very different engines. People knew something changed when they exchanged their leased 328i with a 3.0-liter six for a 328i with a 2.0-liter turbo four.

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.