The quirky Swedish brand has been gone for more than a decade, but a loyal cadre is keeping its turbos turning.
I hadn’t been to Sweden or even tasted pickled herring when I bought my first Volvo, a white two-door 122S with a red interior. The car had only 70,000 miles on it, but there was a bit of rust so I paid only $400. The patrician first owner gave me a New Yorker cartoon depicting a guy at a bar saying, “The only thing I love is my Volvo.”
After that, I owned a fleet of 122s, sedans and wagons—plus a pair of sporty 1800s. The second one of those cost me all of $200. It was an ultra-rusty Jensen-built 1964 and it was supposed to be a parts car—until I got it running and registered.
The last 122S was a Euro wagon that started life in Switzerland. I had it for maybe 20 years, through the raising-kids-with-no-time-to-think-about-cars phase of my life. That one was finally sold to a young man who said he’d never eaten a salad—and was driving the 122S across the U.S. to get one in Tijuana, where the Caesar was born.
I wanted something more modern and was still enamored of the Swedes, but did my next purchase have to be a Volvo? No, it didn’t. What about a Saab? I’d briefly owned a 1972 96 sedan, but a failing gearbox prevented a long acquaintance. I had a classic 900 convertible as a test car when I got married. But these were only fleeting encounters.
Briefly, Saab was in business building cars for the U.S. market from 1949 to 2011. Saab stands for Svenska Aeroplan Aktiebolaget, or Swedish Aeroplane Corporation, with the name derived from the aerospace and defense company launched in 1937. “Born from Jets” was a Saab slogan, and aero streamlining was incorporated into the company’s first postwar models.
The author’s current Saab as a seven-year-slumbering barn find. It’s much happier now, and a five-speed manual.
Jim Motavalli
The 900 Turbo, introduced in 1979, really put the company into contention as a performance-oriented company. College professors bought them, but these were academics who wore racing gloves. By 1989, with the 900 still going strong, GM invested $600 million in Saab, and green-lighted a new and more luxurious version of the 900 in 1994. Some see this as the beginning of the end, but the New Generation 900s have their virtues. GM bought the whole company in 2000, investing another $125 million. GM parts bin Saabs were the result. The company’s quirky uniqueness was fading.
The 900 Turbo, introduced in 1979, really put the company into contention as a performance-oriented company.
I’d been covering the demise of Saab, including in 2011 interviewing Victor Muller, briefly the company’s chairman, as he searched desperately (and vainly, as it turned out) for funding to keep the brand alive. “What’s happening now is very different from when I was saving Saab from oblivion,” he told me. “Then, I could have failed and I would have been sorry. But now it’s my company, and I’m responsible for 3800 people.”
Saab was soon to shut down—with the Swedish government refusing to intervene—and those 3800 had to find other work. I couldn’t help them by buying a used Saab, but at least I could help keep the legacy alive. I bought a 1996 900 convertible, a European delivery model that was living on a Connecticut island. You have to start somewhere. I didn’t know much about Saab’s model history at that point—even though I once flirted with going to work for the company as a PR guy when it was based in Connecticut. As soon as I bought the 1996, everyone told me I should have gone for the “classic” 1986-1993 900, because anything after that was infected by the General Motors purchase.
The ‘96 was mostly fine, and it had luxuries I wasn’t used to—a five-CD changer, heated leather seats, airbags, ABS brakes. But it also had an ultra-finicky power top with a tonneau motor that kept failing. The top procedure required a primitive computer that few people knew how to program. It was annoying!
So off that one went at a loss, and I discovered—quite by accident, sitting at a local gas station with no “for sale” sign—a nearly pristine five-speed 1991 900 Turbo convertible with 70,000 miles that I paid all of $2400 for, then put in $1000 more to fix what was ailing it. Actually, the red 900 was too nice. The dashboard wasn’t even cracked—and they’re all cracked. I was afraid to park it anywhere. I kept it for hardly any time at all and sold it at a significant profit.
Actually, the red 900 was too nice. The dashboard wasn’t even cracked—and they’re all cracked.
Now I was really well-disposed toward Saabs. There was, and still is, a big disparity between what they sell for as used cars on the local classifieds level and collector automobiles online. There are strong and enthusiastic support groups like Saabnet, Saab Central, Saab Scene and Facebook Groups that will help find you nearly every part, despite that fact that Saab is now more than 10 years gone.
Scott Paterson is the California-based founder of Saabnet, and a driving force behind behind the Saab Club of North America owners conventions, this year in Chicago July 20 to 23. “My first car was a VW Bug I paid all of $200 for, then a Rabbit with a GTI engine,” Paterson said. “In the late ‘80s I had a friend, now my wife, who drove a 1983 Saab 900 Turbo. The experience led me to buy my first Saab, a 1985 base model.”
Scott Paterson of Saabnet with his much-loved Sonnet.
Jim Motavalli
Paterson had trouble with his Saab’s water pump, and in the ‘80s the only recourse was an all-brands auto forum on Usenet. “I posted there and all I got back was people telling me I should have bought a Ford or Chevy,” he said. “From that I created a mailing list of 100 Saab owners that grew into an online database and, eventually, Saabnet. At its peak, we had a million Saab owners.”
Paterson thought of selling Saabnet in 2012 after Saab failed, figuring that the site would start shedding members at a rate of 20 percent a year. But that never happened—membership has stayed steady. “I underestimated the loyalty to the brand,” he said. “Owners love their cars, and take care of them really well.”
I continued to buy Saabs. There was a blue 900 Turbo convertible I found in New Jersey and spent a year on, then sold it to a Virginia doctor who gave it a ground-up restoration. Now that’s a satisfying outcome. And then the two-fer deal—I followed a lead for a 1993 Commemorative Edition (only 325 made, complete with plaques) up to the Newburgh, New York, area. There I encountered Jess Hayes, a young woman vendor with a Saab tattoo on her ankle. The Poughkeepsie resident was a serial Saab owner.
The Girl with the Saab Tattoo got it “because it was a big part of who I was.”
Jim Motavalli
“My mom found me a 1989 Saab 900 Turbo convertible when I was 15,” Hayes says. “It got broadsided by a pickup in Carmel, but after that I owned five or six Saabs. I love the handling, the design, the little quirks I kept discovering. Saabs are just charming.”
The CE was very rusty and missing reverse gear, but still had its plaque and burl walnut dashboard. It was outside, but in the nearby garage was a quite nice automatic 125,000-mile 1993 turbo convertible. It had been sitting for seven years with a vague starter complaint. I bought them both for $1500. It turns out mice had ravaged the convertible’s instrument cluster while it sat, but the starter was fine—it was the alternator that needed replacing.
There were other needs. I enlisted the help of my friend Ko Denhamer, a Dutchman transplanted to suburban Philadelphia, to get the 900 convertible back on the road. I gave him the CE (but kept that wood dashboard), and he fixed my power top and non-working turn signal, installed a working instrument cluster, and did a bunch of little things. I drove it home, only getting a little nervous as it started to overheat on the approach to the George Washington Bridge. That’s an extreme test. It hasn’t overheated again.
Ko Denhamer and one of his many Saabs.
Jim Motavalli
I was always planning to upgrade the Saab to a manual transmission, and Chip Longo of Carmel, New York, who had worked on the car when The Girl with the Saab Tattoo owned it, was the man to get that done. The automatic was slowly failing anyway. It’s now a five-speed car, with a fully rebuilt transmission. I’ve got no plans to sell it, but it was still nice to see that 900s like mine included on Hagerty’s Bull Market list for 2023.
The highs, says Hagerty, are: “Timeless looks; capable FWD layout goes where you point it; build quality and bulletproof mechanicals; practical, cavernous interior.” The lows: “Dwindling parts supply; dwindling talent to service them; an orphan from a dead company, meaning numbers will only shrink.” In #1 condition, Hagerty is now saying they’re worth $29,800, but $14,600 in #4.
Hagerty notes an uptick in younger buyers showing interest in classic 900s, and that does seem to be the case. Here’s the first in a very watchable ongoing series of YouTube videos from Belgiumas a very determined young man whose channel goes by “Memphis” undertakes an epic 900 restoration. He has 112,000 followers.
Autoweek reporter Emmet White, who mainly grew up in Portland, Oregon, (with stopovers in Los Angeles and Austin) during high school owned a 1991 Saab 900 Turbo in Citrin Beige with a five-speed manual.
“It was a relic from my neighbor, Travis Decker’s, collection,” White said. “He owned and ran Atomic Auto, then the second-largest servicers of classic and GM-era Saabs in Portland, Oregon. Now Atomic Auto focuses on earlier hybrids, so it certainly knows how to find its niche.”
The young Ben Gott with his 900 SPG, before the tree fell on it.
Jim Motavalli
The price was right for a high school kid’s budget. “The car was rolled out of his showroom for $1500 and an agreement to work on his website presence over the summer,” White said. “It ran surprisingly well over the years I had it, and I took it on numerous road trips, Saab cruises, and to school and back every day. I sold it for a 1987 BMW 535i, which I instantly regretted, and the Saab was totaled soon after it was sold.”
That same cruel fate befell a 1990 900 Turbo SPG coupe belonging to private school teacher Ben Gott of Fairfield, Connecticut, but in his case a tree fell on it in 1999. Luckily, he was getting coffee at the time. “The entire driver’s side, from the A-pillar all the way to the hatchback, had been completely obliterated. Had I been sitting in the car, I would have been crushed,” Gott said. The only-in-a-Saab part of the story is that the engine was saved and was still going strong at 200,000 miles in another car.
Gott’s roommate at Bowdoin College in Maine, Chris Stearns, had a poster of a 1991 Saab 900 Special Edition (SE) on his wall in the 1980s. “The poster was from Clyde Billing Saab in August, Maine, and now I own a 1991 SE convertible in Platana Grey I bought from Clyde’s son, who was thinning his collection,” said Stearns, who’s now an attorney living in the Philadelphia area.
“Saabs were always considered safe, durable cars, and great in snow, so they were an easy sell for my family in Maine,” said Stearns, whose family fleet growing up also included a Volvo 240 wagon. Stearns’ first car was a 1983 Volvo 242 Turbo. But down the road was Lewis Saab, run by a guy who would buy old Saabs in Florida—SPGs, 9000s, and grey SE convertibles. Stearns’ brother, New Hampshire resident Jonathan, bought one of the latter, and Stearns’ car was offered there, but he couldn’t afford it at the time. “I actually bought it 20 years after first seeing it at Lewis Saab in 1999,” Stearns said. “I waited two decades to buy the same car,” he says.
Chris Stearns’ 900 is period-correct, including a car phone and accessory gauges.
Chris Stearns
Stearns’ lovingly curated Saab accessories collection.
Chris Stearns
Stearns’ car is a paean to the era, complete with an authentic Motorola car phone, a special gauge package and endless accessories—watches, Saab-branded Swiss Army knives, cigarette lighters, pens, key chains. “People love the phone at the auto shows,” he said.
Rich Kitchener, who operates Imported Automotive in Trumbull, Connecticut, caught the Saab bug early—he was just 15 when, following his older brother’s example, he bought a derelict 1972 99 for peanuts and rebuilt the engine. “With Saabs, everything was so thought out—four-wheel disc brakes!” he said. “I just bonded with Saabs—the seats, the cockpit, the three-point seat belts. There was continuity, too—some parts of the 99 fit the last 900s made.” Today, Kitchener owns a highly desirable 1985 900 Turbo SPG, a 1988 Springtime in Sweden 900, and a pair of Sonett sport cars.
Paul Piedra with his 900S convertible, the car that got him started on Saabs.
Paul Piedra
Paul Piedra of Stamford, Connecticut, a commercial real-estate broker, came by his 1993 Saab 900S in a roundabout way. He helped a friend, who had won a warehouse in a legal settlement resulting from a tragic accident. Inside the warehouse was an odd assortment of cars—including a 1979 Lotus, a 1972 Mercedes, 1965 Jeep and 1991 Dodge pickup. Left unsold was the Saab, the car Piedra actually wanted. “I’ve always loved the look of the 900 since seeing a two-tone brown and tan example drive by in the 1980s,” Piedra said. “It must have had custom paint because I never could find another two-tone like it—and I searched the net forever.”
In the end, the Saab came to Piedra free as payment for his help. “One of the best things about owning a 900 is the community,” he said. “I was happily surprised to find so many people dedicated to keeping the classic Saabs alive. Between forums and Facebook groups, there is no problem you run into that can’t be solved.” Piedra is doing is part to keep ‘em rolling by carving wooden 900 shift knobs and making window stickers to order.
Bill Jacobson with his ultra-rare Saab Sonett I. Only six of these Corvette-like racers were made.
Jim Motavalli
Bill Jacobson operates “the oldest independent SAAB specialist” shop in Delaware and has a collection that includes some real rarities—including one of just six first-series Saab Sonetts. “He’d never sell it,” said his sister and the shop’s service manager, Carol Ann Arthurs. “There’s not enough money in the world to take that off his hands.”
Ko Denhamer, originally from Holland and in suburban Philadelphia since attending Temple University, deals in classic Saab 900 parts when he’s not working as a real estate agent. “In 1992 I bought a 1988 Saab 900 Turbo automatic in Edwardian gray over Buffalo gray, and I still have it—even after a divorce,” he said. “I thought the 900s were the sexiest cars I’d ever seen, but I had to wait until one came off a lease to acquire it.”
The parts business started after a tree fell on his 900 (yes, there’s a pattern here) and he decided a parts car was the way to go. “That accident led to a parts car, then two, then five,” Denhamer said. “Now if someone needs a part, I’ll search until I find it.” He said that ABS accumulators (for the later cars) were once so scarce he figured out how to recharge them, but they’re available again.
Denhamer’s nice Saabs fill the garage, and the parts cars have taken over his yard. Saab addiction is easy to catch, hard to shake.
Keyword: The Ardent Faithful Keeping Saab’s Flame Alive