1999 Saab 9-3 on 2040-cars

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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!

What would you drive in 1985?

Bereft of live baseball games to watch, I've turned to the good ship YouTube to watch classic games. While watching the 1985 American League Championship Series last night, several of the broadcast's commercials made its way into the original VHS recording, including those for cars. "Only 8.8% financing on a 1985 Ford Tempo!" What a deal! That got me thinking: what would I drive in 1985?  It sure wouldn't be a Tempo. Or an IROC-Z, for that matter, despite what my Photoshopped 1980s self would indicate in the picture above. I posed this question to my fellow Autobloggists. Only one could actually drive back then, I was only 2 and a few editors weren't even close to being born. Here are our choices, which were simply made with the edict of "Come on, man, be realistic."  West Coast Editor James Riswick: OK, I started this, I'll go first. I like coupes today, so I'm pretty sure I'd drive one back then. I definitely don't see myself driving some badge-engineered GM thing from 1985, and although a Honda Prelude has a certain appeal, I must admit that something European would likely be in order. A BMW maybe? No, I'm too much a contrarian for that. The answer is therefore a 1985 Saab 900 Turbo 3-Door, which is not only a coupe but a hatchback, too. If I could scrounge up enough Reagan-era bucks for the ultra-cool SPG model, that would be rad. The 900 Turbo pictured, which was for auction on Bring a Trailer a few years ago, came with plum-colored Bokhara Red, and you're damn sure I would've had me one of those. Nevermind 1985, I'd probably drive this thing today.   Associate Editor Byron Hurd: I'm going to go with the 1985.5 Ford Mustang SVO, AKA the turbocharged Fox Body that everybody remembers but nobody drives. The mid-year update to the SVO bumped the power up from 175 ponies (yeah, yeah) to 205, making it almost as powerful (on paper, anyway) as the V8-powered GT models offered in the same time frame. I chose this particular car because it's a bit of a time capsule and, simultaneously, a reminder that all things are cyclical. Here we are, 35 years later, and 2.3-liter turbocharged Mustangs are a thing again. Who would have guessed?

Are orphan cars better deals?

Most folks don't know a Saturn Aura from an Oldsmobile Aurora. Those of you who are immersed in the labyrinth of automobilia know that both cars were testaments to the mediocrity that was pre-bankruptcy General Motors, and that both brands are now long gone. But everybody else? Not so much. By the same token, there are some excellent cars and trucks that don't raise an eyebrow simply because they were sold under brands that are no longer being marketed. Orphan brands no longer get any marketing love, and because of that they can be alarmingly cheap. Case in point, take a look at how a 2010 Saturn Outlook compares with its siblings, the GMC Acadia and Buick Enclave. According to the Manheim Market Report, the Saturn will sell at a wholesale auto auction for around $3,500 less than the comparably equipped Buick or GMC. Part of the reason for this price gap is that most large independent dealerships, such as Carmax, make it a point to avoid buying cars with orphaned badges. Right now if you go to Carmax's site, you'll find that there are more models from Toyota's Scion sub-brand than Mercury, Saab, Pontiac, Hummer, and Saturn combined. This despite the fact that these brands collectively sold in the millions over the last ten years while Scion has rarely been able to realize a six-figure annual sales figure for most of its history. That is the brutal truth of today's car market. When the chips are down, used-car shoppers are nearly as conservative as their new-car-buying counterparts. Unfamiliarity breeds contempt. Contempt leads to fear. Fear leads to anger, and pretty soon you wind up with an older, beat-up Mazda MX-5 in your driveway instead of looking up a newer Pontiac Solstice or Saturn Sky. There are tons of other reasons why orphan cars have trouble selling in today's market. Worries about the cost of repair and the availability of parts hang over the industry's lost toys like a cloud of dust over Pigpen. Yet any common diagnostic repair database, such as Alldata, will have a complete framework for your car's repair and maintenance, and everyone from junkyards to auto parts stores to eBay and Amazon stock tens of thousands of parts. This makes some orphan cars mindblowingly awesome deals if you're willing to shop in the bargain bins of the used-car market. Consider a Suzuki Kizashi with a manual transmission. No, really.