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Saab-powered Ford is the most unlikely drift car we've seen

Yes, you read that headline correctly. It's supposed to be a Saab-powered Ford, and not the other way around (although we fully support the notion of a Sonnet with a Flathead V8). Apparently, some lunatic in the UK took an ass-less 1953 Ford Anglia, paired it with a turbocharged Saab engine, and tuned the entire thing to go drifting. We like it. Called Urchfab, it's the subject of Carfection's (the blokes formerly known as XCar) latest video. Aside from looking like an extra from the British version of Mad Max, it has a problem with grip, in that there's just too much of it. This car is a fabber's dream, as we get to see its unnamed owner fashion new bits and bobs for the suspension before having an unfortunate encounter with a wall at Castle Combe. You can check out the full video up at the top of the page for a closer look at this monstrous Anglia. 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.

Vampire Weekend burns for Saab

Or is it the other way around?
Could Vampire Weekend be trying to tell me something? A just-launched music video for the indie rock band's new single Diane Young features what looks like a pretty mint black Saab 900 Turbo Convertible being torched in slow-motion. In fact, with the exception of a brief, flickering cameo by a 900 three-door of a similar vintage, that's all that there is to the nearly three-minute long video. It's both sad and oddly beautiful.
Coincidentally, I have a similar-looking turbocharged black Saab convertible sitting in my garage, and I've been reluctantly pondering its sale this very week. Admittedly, mine is a later model (2001 9-3 Viggen), but tri-spokes and more tapered rump aside, it looks eerily identical. And while mine isn't mired in flames (I love it too much to torch it), through no fault of its own, it's been sitting motionless far too regularly. Thankfully, I see a better future for it than the droptop seen above.