2010 Saab 9-3 2.0t Power Glass Moonroof/leather Seats/heated Seats/alloy Wheels on 2040-cars

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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.

What brands have Saab owners defected to? Polk investigates

When a brand goes belly-up, it's natural for analysts to wonder where that brand's consumers will turn. General Motors has mothballed more car brands the last decade than most other automakers' have in their entire portfolios, so "Where did [insert brand here] buyers go?" has been a common question asked of The General. According to reports, it didn't do so well at retaining Oldsmobile owners (who supposedly went to Hyundai), or Hummer and Saturn buyers, but did get some return love from Pontiac owners.
A consultant with Polk has turned the loyalty lens on Saab. The Polk Disposal Loyalty Methodology tracks owners selling vehicles within six months of buying a new one. In 2010 and 2011, Polk found that when Saab died, owners went right up the middle of the mainstream to Honda. It was close, though, with just 0.2 percent separating Honda from number two Volkswagen. Audi comes in third.
After that it's back to the masses with Toyota, Chevrolet and Ford trumping import luxury brands. And if you combine all of the General Motors brands that Saab owners have migrated to, GM more than doubles Honda with a 15.2-percent share, so all the love is not lost.

Saab didn't want this electric, 99-like delivery van from the 1970s

National Electric Vehicle Sweden (NEVS) purchased the remains of Saab in 2012 to turn it into an electric-only brand. While its vast heritage is turbocharged and rooted in racing, Saab didn't shy away from dabbling in battery-powered drivetrains, and there's an experimental mail delivery van in its official museum to prove it. The name Saab in the last paragraph should be followed by an asterisk. The prototype kind of looks like a 99 when viewed from the front, and it wears the soccer ball-style alloy wheels seen on several of the brand's models during the 1970s, but the museum's curator told Autoblog it was built in Linkoping, Sweden, by the company's defense and plane-making division. It's certainly a Saab, but not quite the kind you're likely thinking of. Engineers began the project in the early 1970s, at about the same time archrival Volvo launched its own experiments in the field of electrification. The idea was to create an electric, short-range distribution van that could be used by Sweden's postal service, for example. Two prototypes were built in 1975 and 1976, including the example in the museum, and each had a low-speed driving range of about 40 miles. Additional technical specifications are lost to history, partly because Saab's car-building division in Trollhattan -- the folks that developed the 99 and the 900, among others -- didn't like the van at all and wanted nothing to do with it. Saab electric van prototype View 2 Photos We peeked inside and under it and spotted a bulky, lead-acid battery pack integrated into a tray that could be pulled out from the back after flipping up the panel onto which part of the rear bumper was mounted. This layout was relatively common in early electric prototypes, like the Bus that Volkswagen developed in 1972 and tested in select German cities. Recharging the battery pack took hours, so swapping it out was considered the more practical alternative. Period documents and images confirm the electronics were mounted under the hood. Saab made two electric prototypes, including one it fitted with front-end parts like headlights (complete with wipers), turn signals, and a plastic grille from a 99. The second wore round headlights, bullet-shaped turn signals, and looked more like something you'd see in an episode of "Scooby Doo" than what you'd find in a Saab showroom. The van's resemblance to the 99 was purely artificial; it was its own thing, on its own chassis.