Less is more: Rediscovering the joys of my car

This spring, as it was time to take my snow tires off, I went shopping for new summer tires. In times past, I had always stuck to the same formula when choosing a summer tire: buy something that would handle well, grip well (I recognize that grip and handling are related but different qualities), not be too expensive, and every other consideration be damned. Thus, my otherwise essentially stock 1992 900T with plus-one tires (205/55-15) on 15x6 rims handled very smartly and was a pleasure to drive on twisty roads and exit ramps. However, those rare pleasures came at the expense of virtually every other moment I drove the car. Thus, I was determined to find a different solution this time.

In some ways I felt I was conceding something to my middle-agedness in considering this change. Perhaps. Maybe it was just a concession to the driving I actually do. I commute 110 miles a day, with 80 of those miles on the highway. This time around, for the first I can remember, I was determined to buy tires whose principle attributes were quietness and smoothness. They also had to handle reasonably, and have a carcass that would their shape for many miles. I had grown weary of feeling every imperfection in Massachusetts roadways. I was even more insistent on finding tires that didn’t howl like a helicopter after the first few thousand miles. Thus, I ended up with Michelin MXV4 Primacy 195/65-15V tires on my car, essentially the OEM-equivalent tire.

They look a bit lame, and I am certain that I will never push the car on ramps or the great sweeping curve on Soldier’s Field Road where one lane drops away (Boston area driver’s will know what I mean), but I don’t care. I am thrilled with my purchase. The 900 is totally transformed. It glides on the Interstate, and I don’t have to clench my jaw at every expansion joint or poorly patched pothole. At speed, suddenly I hear sounds I had forgotten: the wonderful mechanical churn of the 900 power-plant, the baritone of the exhaust (subtle but present, even at speed), and even my radio, which I now realize sounds worse than I thought it did before. I find I am much more relaxed at the end of each drive, which is not to say that this is some sort of Novocain-riddled driving experience and that I’ll be trading my Saab for a Buick any time soon.

Instead, I’m appreciating different things about the car which had been masked by the uncompromising tires. Because I am no longer focused on the racket and unforgiving feel, I like driving this car on all roads, even the twisties. Somehow, the car feels “right” in a way it hadn’t before when it was over-shod. After a really lousy day yesterday, on the commute home I entered the Storrow Drive tunnel, and with the windows and sunroof open, the resonating exhaust tones and engine/transmission song made me smile. Sure, all of that was there before but my perspective was blocked by those damn tires.
At times when I feel I am caving in to my advancing age, I might need to remind myself that maybe I was just plain wrong all those years. Older? Yes. Wiser? I guess so!

NASCAR Newbies go to Daytona

In early January I got a call from our Safety-Kleen representative telling me that I had been entered, as one of their customers, in a drawing to win all- expense paid trip to the Daytona 500, and that I was one of four winners nation-wide (little NASCAR pun there). While my ears were hearing this, my brain was silently responding—what the hell is he talking about? Safety-Kleen has been a vendor that we have used for years here at Charles River Saab. That “Environmental Services” fee that you pay on service repairs goes, in large measure, to pay them. They do things like pump out my oil-water separator and sand-pit; remove waste oil, oil filters and used anti-freeze; they also handle “universal waste” like fluorescent light bulbs. Do you know it costs almost as much to dispose of those bulbs as to buy them? As I realized what I was hearing, I tried to act effusive so that I could make Joe feel good about telling me the good news, but I couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty that with all the NASCAR fans out there, that I was the one to win.

Still, I am a car guy, and I know enough about NASCAR to realize that the Daytona 500 is part race, part spectacle—not unlike the Superbowl—and who doesn’t love a good spectacle? It was decided that youngest son Marcel, who has held an SCCA membership longer than a driver’s license and who I believe is currently ranked fourth in SCCA RallyX (FWD stock) for New England, would accompany me to Daytona to see the race and participate in the festivities. What 16 year old wouldn’t have a good time at Daytona, right? Truth to tell, I wish my wife, Susan, could have come, too. Having two sons who race, she has developed an interest in racing and probably knew more about NASCAR than the rest of us combined when I came home with the news. Still, she (and I) both wanted Marcel to have the opportunity, so a father and son excursion to Daytona it was.

For a variety of reasons, Marcel had not flown since he was very young so even the plane rides were an adventure for him. We flew out of Manchester to Charlotte, and then on to Daytona. While Charlotte is a good-sized airport, I felt it important to point out to Marcel that Manchester and Daytona are cute little places, and not at all like flying through Hartsfield or O’Hare, or Logan for that matter. The planes (Ebraer 170?) were similarly cozy—not unlike a Greyhound bus with wings. In all, the flights were on-time and incident free.

Upon arrival in Daytona on Friday afternoon, and after securing our rental car, a Hyundai Sonata, we went over to Daytona Beach to meet up with old friend Mark. Mark lives in Jacksonville where he is a horn player in the Symphony. He and I were roommates back in our university days, and each other’s best man (I did the honor twice for Mark). He treated us to a barbecue lunch and a long walk on Daytona Beach. Though we had spoken only infrequently over the years—neither of us likes talking on the phone and he is averse to email—it was amazing for me to see how a person can stay so unchanged for nearly three decades, save diminished hair and augmented girth.

When we said goodbye to Mark it was off to Lake Mary and our hotel. I don’t know Florida well, I’ve only been there a few times, and it is a big state. Still, from what I’ve seen, it is a dreadfully stupid place. Someday, I do hope to make it to parts of Florida which will change my mind, but that did not happen on this trip. The ride to Lake Mary was uneventful. The Sonata was pleasant and comfortable. I did not thrash the car at all, but know that if I was in the market for a Camry sort of car, I’d have to take a hard look at the Sonata: there were no glaring shortcomings, and it was almost the perfect car to drive on I4. It was quiet, tracked straight and had working XM radio. Given that it tracked straight, and having determined that in the 40 miles to our hotel the road had but two slight turns I surmised that the entire journey could be completed without hands on the steering wheel. Of course, that would just give you more time to look out the window and see the unending scrub-pine, thus furthering the perception that Florida is dreadful.

What was not dreadful was the Daytona International Speedway. We got to Daytona early on Saturday to attend the “COPD 300” which fielded about 40 cars. We were brilliant regarding our rental car and parking. Hot tip: if you ever go to Daytona for a race and rent a car, take the rental back to the airport and park in the rental lot and walk to the track. Free. Easy. It didn’t feel bad doing it, especially where we were paying the usurious rental fee of $156 per day. That’s the cost of going on a weekend which sported NASCAR’s biggest event AND the NBA All-Star game just up the road in Orlando.

We spent some time in the “midway,” which was not unlike a state fair, only catering to car stuff. Of all the manufacturers, Toyota had the best setup. Sprint, the largest sponsor, also had an impressive display and was giving away caps and coolers to Sprint customers. I showed my phone and got some swag! 3M was giving away the most stuff, but did I really want to stand in line for a free roll of painters’ tape and a bottle of glue? No, but lots of others sure did. The display with the coolest toys was New Holland, the tractor company. I’ve only lived in New Hampshire 18 months and already I’ve got tractor envy!

Going to our seats in the “Sprint Tower” which overlooks the start/finish line, we got to watch and hear some of these beasts in practice. Even with ear plugs, the snarl of those engines at full throttle is impressive. There were some new significant changes for 2012 which we learned about. This is the first year that NASCAR is running fuel injection, which will very much simplify engineers’ and technicians’ lives. Though the art of getting high horsepower from antiquated carburetors had long ago been mastered, there were lingering dynamic limitations such as the tendency for fuel in the intake tract to get thrown more to the right bank of cylinders than left because of centripetal force. Also, to avoid two-car “bump-drafting,” radiator openings have been reduced to a mere slit which will force overheating if there is too much time spent sniffing someone’s bumper. The result, we were told, is that instead of ending up in pairs that cars would be racing in larger bunches. And so it was.

For those who watch NASCAR for the crashes, the COPD 300 was a race not to be missed. I can’t remember how many yellow flags there were, but there were a great many. Under sunny skies, we tried to make sense of some of the particular rules like the “free pass” during yellow flags, but I’m not sure we really understood. Our seats had a great view of the full track, and we were only 100 feet past the finish line, itself turn 5 on this tri-oval track. Toward the end of the race, with perhaps 10 laps to go, there was a big crash and another yellow flag. It was clear that this would take time to get cleaned up, and in fact they red flagged the cars in order to save some laps for a real finish. Still, by the time the grid reassembled and the race restarted, there were only two laps to go. The first lap was completed without incident, with all the cars closely bunched. The last lap started. Turns 1 and 2 were uneventful. Then, as they got into turn three the jockeying started. On a track that is barely three lanes wide a fourth lane started to appear as the pack entered turn 4, where virtually all the crashes had occurred. Everyone in the stands knew it was going to happen. And then, it did. CRASH! A car near the front of the pack touched off a chain reaction, and lowly driver James Buescher tiptoed his way through the debris going from tenth to first place for the win.

We weren’t so lucky with the Daytona 500 itself. The morning started with a tour of the pits and garages in the infield. It was so strange just walking on the track. The banking is so steep! Lenny Kravitz was the pre-race entertainment, and he was rehearsing. As much as I like him, he seemed an odd choice for NASCAR, but he hit all his war-horses and the crowd loved it. In the pit area, as I viewed technicians gluing lug-nuts to the spare wheels shod with slicks, I asked our guide, a gentleman from Safety-Kleen who runs their operations at the races, where the rain tires were, since it was raining steadily, and he replied that they don’t run rain tires in NASCAR. Wow, I thought—these guys and gals are crazier than I thought. Later, while observing a tech-inspection, I noted the lack of wipers. I asked about that, too, to which our guide said (with an incredulous look), “Boy, you don’t know anything about NASCAR, do you? These cars don’t race in the rain!” Oh. I figured that if F1 and Indy ran in the rain, and they don’t have a roof, or windshield, never mind wipers, that these “sedans” could.

In the end, the race was cancelled that day and run on Monday night. It featured its share of spills and thrills, none more spectacular than Juan Pablo Montoya’s crash into a track-cleaning jet engine during a yellow flag. We couldn’t stay, and walked back to the airport in the rain late Sunday afternoon. Disappointing as that was, the pit tour was perhaps the best part of the trip, and we did get to see a great race on Saturday. I’m not sure I’ll ever be a NASCAR fan, but to see one of the preeminent spectacles in Americana was oh so worth it!

Post Script

Lots of readers enjoyed the piece about the Saab Museum, so I feel it is worth adding a post-script. At the end of the account, I had mentioned that Dan had been, by dint of experience at the museum, bitten by the vintage Saab bug. He has been looking hard, both here and in Sweden (his work is still taking him there frequently), and has finally found a winner. After two visits to Vermont and much deliberating, Dan has purchased a 1957 93. It needs a new floor pan, which is provided, but the rest of the body, chassis and interior are said to be in good condition. Of course, being the year of our founding, 1957 is a special year for Charles River Saab, and given how few dealers there were in the states in those days, it would be fascinating to find out where this car originated. Besides a barn-full of spare parts, also included in the sale was the rolling chassis—no power-train—of a 1960 93. Dan is considering a unique build, blending this body with a more contemporary chassis and power-train to create a really unique daily driver.

Magic Happens

I like to recount stories in this space. I guess I like to tell stories, period. Mostly, I have stories to tell which are my own. That’s the advantage of getting old: you’ve got more stories to trot out when you need to write about something. This is a story which has nothing to do with me. Rather, it is the story of one of our long-time customers, Dan, who had such an amazing experience that I asked if I could retell the story here. I found myself so eager to present this because, I think, I wish that this had happened to me. Happily, he consented. I apologize to Dan if there are a few detail mistakes.

Dan has been a customer of mine for as long as I can remember, and a Saab owner/enthusiast for much longer than that. When I first knew Dan he had an SPG. Then another. At least one, perhaps both, were treated to a variety of performance up-grades. In those times, Abbott Racing was very de rigueur. But Dan did not order his AR parts from some catalogue. Rather, he went to Abbott Racing in Britain and filled his suitcase with such things as a water cooled intercooler, rising rate fuel pressure regulator and so on. Dan likes performance Saabs. After his SPG’s, Dan graduated to a Viggen. After that, his current car—a TurboX Sport Combi. I know that he also had, and may still have, a beater 911.

A couple of weeks ago, Dan found himself in Malmo, Sweden on a business assignment. His company in the US had acquired a Swedish concern, which is what had Dan there for a week. Having followed the travails of Saab, and at that time of the Saab Museum, it occurred to Dan that finding himself in Sweden during the museum auction process, with attorneys at his disposal, that perhaps he would throw his hat into the ring. He did. He submitted bids on ten of the cars in the collection. His bids included a proviso, probably standard, that the bids were conditional upon his inspection of the cars. While he would have loved to dash up to the Saab Museum right then and there, Trollhattan was not next door and he was consumed with his work. He did, though, send Peter Backstrom (my apologies for the missing umlauts) an email toward the end of the week to tell him about his bids and that he hoped to be able to view the cars.

He received an email from Backstrom which was, not surprisingly, terse. Dan was reminded that he was late to the party with his bids, and the inspection process was wrapping up. In a more conciliatory tone, Backstrom did advise Dan to call him at the museum when he would be available to have his viewing. Backstrom left his office and mobile phone numbers.

Dan’s work kept him occupied until 4:00 pm on Friday afternoon. He was willing to concede that it was likely impossible for him to see the cars. Nonetheless, perhaps Backstrom would be at the museum on Saturday, and Dan could try to change his return flight to the US to accommodate this. With some trepidation, he dialed the museum number. Dan wasn’t surprised that it went to voice mail. He hung up. He considered calling Backstrom’s cell phone for a moment, wondering if it might be too intrusive. Just then, the desk phone rang. Dan hesitated. He was in a borrowed office. Should he pick up? Dan did.

“Hello, you just called,” it was Peter Backstrom.
“Yes, this Dan, from Boston. I sent you an email about the cars I had bid on.”
“Well, you should come see them.”
“I could drive up tomorrow, would that work?”
“No, not tomorrow. Why don’t you come now?”
“I’d love to, but I’m in Malmo.”
“OK, so I’ll see you in four hours.”
“I don’t have a car. I’ll need to rent one.”
“OK, so I’ll see you in four and a half hours.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’ll see you at nine o’clock.”

With help from a Swedish co-worker, Dan got a rental car and started north to Trollhattan. He arrived at the Saab Museum at 9:15. It was dark. There was, though, a lone Saab parked out front. Dan knocked at the door. A moment later, Peter Backstrom was letting him in.

As soon as they were inside, Backstrom offered Dan coffee, and they went to his office where Backstrom brewed a fresh pot and the two started to converse. When the pleasantries were completed, it was time to find Dan’s bid cars. Dan had focused on early cars, mostly two stroke models. This is interesting. While Dan did have a 95 V4 as his first Saab, he had never owned a two stroke variant. There were a couple of anomalies in the group, but essentially he was looking at 93’s, 95’s and 96’s. Some were in the workshop. Some in the hall. Some in the barn, an unheated, unlit space where they had to rummage around with flashlights. When in the work shop, one of Dan’s cars was wedged too tightly among other cars to allow the doors to open, so Backstrom heaved it forward until Dan could open it and get inside. With each car there was a story, and of course Backstrom was all too willing to provide every intimacy one might ever want to know about these Saabs and their histories.

When the inspection process was over it was well past 11:00 pm. Dan was left alone in the hall of the museum while Backstrom set about closing up. When he returned, he asked Dan where he was staying. Dan hadn’t thought that far ahead. Not to worry, Backstrom called the hotel in Trollhattan where Saab guests always stayed and made an arrangement, and per his say-so was granted the Saab preferred rate. When Dan asked for directions, Backstrom insisted on leading him there personally. I don’t know how many times Dan pinched himself that night, but I hope he realizes that he was living an absolute Saab fairy tale on behalf of many of us.

Here’s what I find remarkable: all of it. Just think about how cool it would be to spend two hours with Peter Backstrom, alone, in his museum, not to mention going into the bowels of the workshop and barn. Then you do it at night. Nobody else is around. Could anything be more fantastic to a Saab fanatic? Then there is the whole aspect of Backstrom himself. I have always heard that he is the nicest and most gracious man alive. Now I’m pretty nice and fairly gracious, but I can assure you that if my life’s work was in peril and there were parties looking to snatch pieces of it away, I’m not sure I would have stayed at work until 11:00 pm on a Friday night to indulge anyone’s desire to see the collection. That he did this, and not for someone who might have been trying to buy the entire place and save it in situ, is remarkable in my eyes. Truly, Mr. Backstrom possesses a measure of heart and grace that we can all admire and use as an example for how we should all treat one another.

The next day, Dan headed south again in the teeth of a blizzard in his rented Nissan diesel (this was the same day it snowed here in Boston during our “We are many, we are Saab” event, and you might have even seen pictures Swade posted of the snow as he was in Trollhattan that week as well). While he told me that it was a white-knuckle journey back to Malmo, I am quite certain that Dan would not trade those twenty-four hours for anything.

In the end, of course—and this helps to make this story perfect—the Saab Museum was saved, intact. Dan was as happy as anyone about this. His only interest in bidding was to preserve what he could of the collection if indeed it was going to be scattered. In the end, Dan got something truly better than a piece of the collection: he got to spend a most memorable evening in a most magical place. Having heard this story, I can only say that as much as I ever wanted to visit Trollhattan and the Saab Museum, such a trip is on now on the “must do before I expire” list. And, as a fitting epilogue, Dan has now told me that he is actively seeking out, for the first time in his life, a vintage stroker Saab, such was the inspiration of that museum experience. This, I am sure, would make Peter Backstrom smile.

Could a Saab driver be the next US President?

As today is primary day in my home state, I am reminded of the many politicians I have come to know over the years while working in the retail automobile business. Some I knew while they were in office, while others before or after their political careers. Most were lovely. Most.

Most forgettable was Thomas O’Neill, son of House Speaker Tip O’Neill. During his years as Lieutenant Governor of Massachusetts he drove a Honda Accord which I serviced. Mr. O’Neill was very low key, notable even, in his lack of charisma. He was very nice, but just nice. Thus it was not a surprise to me when he rather vanished from the political landscape.

Most obnoxious was Boston City Councilman Albert “Dapper” O’Neil. He was every bit the buffoon in real life as he appeared to be when in the political limelight. He had to make an enormous entrance every time he appeared at the dealership, and expected that the world would stop to tend to his whims. He was contemptuous of everyone in his path. Mr. O’Neil was indeed a living cartoon character. He drove a Chevy Caprice sedan, which was rather plain and, uncharacteristically, understated.

My favorite political figure and client was Massachusetts Governor William Weld. During his years as US attorney, prior to going to Beacon Hill, Mr. Weld and his (now ex) wife had a Suburban which he serviced with me in Cambridge. He was agreeable, self-effacing, patient, and polite. We didn’t really get to see the goofy side, but it never surprised me when that came out when he was governor.

Boston City Council President Bruce Bolling was a Saab driver. He had a Malachite Green 1989 9000T. Nice guy. Hope he never had to bear the indignity of serving with Dapper O’Neil.

Finally, Mitt and Ann Romney were customers of mine here at Charles River Saab (and one of their sons purchases and services his Saabs here). My recollection was of a 1987 9000T, but in our files I also see that they owned 1996 9000 CSE as well. I believe I saw Mrs. Romney more than Mr., but both were as exceedingly nice as they were good looking. It’s a shame to see what the political process does to people. I was occasionally disappointed in Romney the Governor, and certainly there are moments during this campaign where I wish he could just be more like the gentleman who would stand at my desk and discuss the repairs on his Saab. That guy I could vote for without hesitation. Then again, that guy probably couldn’t get elected president of anything.

The electorate has the power to do something unprecedented. While not endorsing anyone in this election cycle, I can assert that Mitt Romney, if elected President, would likely be the only US President who could also claim to have been a Saab owner. How cool is that? We may never have that opportunity again! Think of that as you go to the polls.

Saying Good-Bye

We've had to say good-bye to some of our co-workers (all, fortunately, relocated to other Village Auto Group locations, except for Mike Clancy who had long ago planned to retire in December), and we are hearing of friends with Saab Cars NA and Saab in Trollhattan who are now departing. More than the possible loss of the brand, it is the toll that all of this takes on Saab's people which is most gut wrenching, at least for me.

When I'm not listening to Foo Fighters or Apocalyptica, I enjoy a bit of aural repose with Andrea Boccelli. I don't know Italian, but I know enough to understand that this song is about parting with someone, so for all you to whom we've said good-bye, this song's for you.

On the apparent demise of Saab

Those few of you who kindly read this blog know that I don’t make many posts. It is simply a matter of priorities and time—I wear lots of hats here and writing this blog falls fairly low on the priority scale and high on the time scale. I do find that essays need to kick around in my head for a time before I get them out, and then, because of my pedantic nature it takes an inordinate amount of time to get things written and re-rewritten. As I sit here today, on the verge of a Christmas week which I will take as a thoroughly needed vacation, especially in light of the week’s events, writing this piece is probably the last thing I should be doing. However, I feel I have both a stake and a perspective in the seeming demise of Saab, and I can’t let the moment pass without adding my point of view.

I have just finished reading “Who Killed Saab Automobile” by Holweg and Oliver at the University of Cambridge. It is well researched, well written. Certainly, there will be many opinions about the subject, so here are mine.

Saabs troubles have been deep rooted for many years. Keith Hart, who worked for Saab for decades, once recounted a story to me that was ominously prescient. Back in the 1980’s, at Saab’s US headquarters in Orange, Connecticut, the end of each month would see a new sales record set for our favorite brand, and a celebration would ensue. Those were giddy times for Saab in the US. Concurrently, plans were being drawn for an omnibus Saab campus elsewhere in the state which would house not only a new headquarters, but also parts distribution, training, and even had a “hotel” on site for visitors including those there for training, or Saab employees in from Sweden. The story goes that Bob Sinclair, arguably one of the greatest visionaries ever with Saab, cancelled the plans for that campus seemingly at the height of Saab’s success. Why? He had gone to see the new offerings from Lexus and Infiniti, and knew that those companies were going to directly impact the segment in which Saab was playing. Indeed, not for that reason alone, sales did start to tumble in the late 1980’s.

Then there was the involvement of GM. One can’t forget that Saab Automobile was in a fairly dire condition coming into the 1990’s: sales were off, their portfolio was too small, and their cost of production too high. While much anticipated, to me the NG 900, the first collaboration with GM, was a failure. While we all have fond memories of the Classic 900, recall that it could barely compete in its segment by the 1990’s, and was extremely expensive to produce, so a replacement was imperative. I don’t agree that the use of the Vectra platform was such a bad idea as espoused by Holweg and Oliver for the NG900. I will say that the execution of that car was deplorable. The clutch was perhaps the most hideous I have ever felt, the seats were the only Saab seats which were awful (where virtually all other Saab seats are exceptional), and the early chassis problems which caused vibration issues such that we had to replace control arms and wheels were inexcusable. It remains the only Saab that I am quite certain I will never own or want to drive, but not because of its bones. In fact, the 9-3, which is so much alike, is a terrific car and I would gladly have one as my daily driver. As was noted at its introduction, however, was that the first 9-3 was what the NG900 should have been all along.

As GM’s involvement increased, and the 9-5 came to the fore, it seemed that perhaps there were synergies which were finally exploited for the good. Yes, there were tensions still between the Saab way and the GM way. We would hear that from Saab Cars USA staff, and I am certain that such friction was even worse at the manufacturing level. Many have pointed to GM’s failure to endow Saab with enough product to remain competitive. I agree. I believe that had Saab been given the opportunity to develop an SUV early on when they were hot products in the US, that this would have greatly enhanced the profitability of Saab and its dealers. Likewise, all-wheel drive should have been recognized and implemented years ago, and not after everyone else in the market already had it. Thus, we were relegated to the 9-7x and 9-2x, which beyond being questionable products, arrived far too late.

From the dealer’s point of view, it also struck me as odd that despite the long relationship with Saab, that it took GM forever to integrate Saab into their logistics portfolio. Often we had hybrid or completely separate systems for training, warranty, information dissemination, workshop material and so on. Why? In fact, we had never fully integrated, and the integration which did take place was not completed until around 2007. Why?

If we fast forward to 2010 and the sale of Saab the Spyker, one of the most exciting times to be a Saab dealer, it is clear now, with the benefit of retrospection, that too many fundamental mistakes were made. Yes, there was a tremendous upside to the state of Saab which to many of us almost assured success—the product portfolio was teeming with great new product, a small but superb group was assembled to run SCNA, Voctor Muller seemed a dynamic leader and with the entire industry and economy in a shambles, with vehicle scrapage rates far exceeding sales, it seemed an opportune moment to launch the new Saab. All things were true, with the exception of the jump in sales which had been anticipated in 2010-2011. However, I don’t think that this is where Saab failed.

I believe that the first failure in the re-launch was too much optimism. I believe that a more prudent business plan would have included lower initial projections, serious reductions in staff (which would have made Victor unpopular in Trollhattan for a time) commensurate with those lower projections and vastly more available capital to give the company time to grow, and allow for real and sustainable marketing campaigns. There were other mistakes. The 2010 9-5 should never have existed; all of the 9-5s should have been built as 2011 models to enhance their residual value. Pricing on the 9-5 did not meet market expectations. That was a colossal failure. Few would argue that the 9-5 wasn’t a fine car. However, too few found it to be a good value. Marketing was virtually non-existent. Sure, I saw a few ads on cable TV, and a billboard which I complained bitterly about because the Saab name was in such a light hue that it was illegible. It just wasn’t enough. Nobody knew the 9-5 existed, or even realized that Saab was still around. There were ways, ways that would have required imagination and creativity, to spread the word….but that didn’t happen, either. Instead, there was doubt from the outset, espoused from many, that Saab could survive at all, despite the plans for the Phoenix and the new partnerships which were developing, and that doubt also drove away many prospective buyers, even those who had been loyal to the brand.

To my thinking, we were done for at that point. Much has been said about GM’s villainous behavior in killing the Youngman-Pangda deal, or Guy Lofalk’s mishandling of receivership, but in reality, though I don’t disagree with either of those opinions, it should never have come to that. Saab was a hostage, and the question we should be asking isn’t why those who are holding Saab hostage are so cruel, but why Saab put itself in a position to be taken captive in the first place. I won’t cast aspersions at Victor Muller, but he was at the helm when the ship hit not one but many icebergs. Perhaps with a pilot at his side, and he was absent one with the departure of Jan-Ake Johnsson, he could have taken measures to avoid catastrophe, but he didn’t, and he has sadly borne the consequence of that, hard as he might have tried to keep the ship afloat.

So here we are. We have gotten used to being at the precipice, and peering over. Now it seems we have taken the next step, and the only question remaining seems to be how far we’ll fall before we touch bottom.

Steve Jobs killed one of my favorite retailers

This post is not about bashing Steve Jobs. I am a Steve Jobs fan. I have owned Macs since 1989. There five Macbooks and an iMac at my home, along with innumerable iPods, so I am a credentialed Apple customer and enthusiast, too.

This story is about how technology set back the state of the art and ultimately fostered the demise of one of my favorite retailers: Tweeter, Etc., a Boston based audio retailer, which started as one store on Commonwealth Avenue in 1972, grew to over 100 in eighteen states and after one try at reorganization was forced into liquidation in 2008.

I can count the retailers I admire on one hand. How did a retailer, whose stores I actually visited perhaps only a dozen times, make such a short and prestigious list? First, they employed passionate, knowledgeable and loyal people who stayed at Tweeter for years and decades. Second, every time I shopped there, I spent more money, sometimes MUCH more money than I had planned, yet I always left the store with a big smile and never a regret. Third, their after-sales service was terrific. If any of this sounds like Charles River Saab, good, it’s not a coincidence.

I first encountered Tweeter in my teens, but did not enter one of their stores until I was a student at the Boston University School for the Arts, which was right across the street from their original store. I did not become a customer, though, until the 1990’s when I was working with Joe, a fellow musician and former Tweeter employee. To that point, we had used my wife’s stereo, purchased while in college (1980?), and exchanged/added a couple of components along the way. Finally, her large floor-speakers blew, and we knew it was time to make a wholesale change. Joe made some basic suggestions about systems and told us to bring our favorite CDs to Tweeter when it was time to make our purchase.

We had a fabulous experience. We listened to our music played through a variety of receivers and speakers, and finally opted for some Boston Acoustic main speakers, a killer Klipsch sub-woofer, and a Denon CD changer. Yes, we bought Monster Cable to connect it all. We spent much more than anticipated, but we enjoyed not only the buying experience but the equipment we had chosen as well. Not long after, we went back and bought a Yamaha surround-sound receiver, and some BA rear and center channel speakers. Then, deciding that we needed to see movies better, since they now sounded awesome, in the early 2000s we went to buy a flat-panel TV. Again, I walked in with a certain size in my head, but Sue was taken with a certain 16:9 42” HD projection TV, and we were set. There were some other smaller purchases, always with the same salesperson, and the experiences were always great.

Service after the sale was terrific, too. Tweeter was the first company I knew of that had an after-the-sale price match guarantee, and I did receive a check from them unsolicited because they found one of my purchases advertised at a lower price elsewhere. Then, they advised me that they were GIVING me an extended warranty on my Toshiba television because they were dropping the line and had had some trouble with the units. OK. Good thing, because we started to have problems with it. Lots of problems. Ultimately, they agreed to replace the unit with a similar Mitsubishi, but after delays due to Mitsubishi on a 42” unit, they replaced my television with a 50” set.

Around 2005 I had gone into “my” Tweeter and noticed how the store had changed. The audio sections were smaller. Much more of the space was devoted to television. The biggest change, though, came when I talked to my salesperson. Where he and the entire staff at Tweeter used to always be vibrant and excited, there was an air of resignation and gloom which hung around the store. We chatted for a bit. When I commented on the number of televisions, he sighed that they had become a bunch of glorified TV salespeople. I asked if people stopped really listening to music in the same way we once did with the advent of the iPod. That got him going. He practically ranted. Didn’t people realize how compressed iPod sound was? With the source sounding so bad, what was the point of listening to music through quality components? That’s when it really struck me. This new technology which was so wonderful in some respects had so thoroughly changed peoples listening habits, that high-fidelity, or even good-fidelity had become irrelevant, and thus, so had Tweeter.

I can’t lay the demise of better audio solely at the feet of the iPod. Its cousin, iTunes, has killed the CD, and with it, for most purchasers, CD quality sound. While Tweeter had always managed to hold its own against other brick-and-mortar retailers, the confluence of emerging internet sales and the decline in high-fidelity sales spelled doom. It was a perfect storm, and in the end there really wasn’t a place for a Tweeter. I knew it on that one fateful visit. It was going to be impossible for Tweeter to reinvent itself, because changes in technology and tastes had sucked the passion out of its people, and without those people—and their knowledge and enthusiasm—one might as well order their electronics on the web.

There are still a handful of retailers that I admire or can enjoy with a visit, whether a purchase is made or not. I am delighted that some small progressive retailers, like Newbury Comics, have successfully reinvented such that they are not only hanging in but thriving. While Saab is not a retailer, I do hope that once the current high-wire act is finished, that a thorough consideration of their vision takes place and that they too will enact a revolution which will keep them relevant and thriving in the automotive marketplace. I don’t want to see another company I like and admire disappear. Companies are a bit like people, and once lost, they never come back.

Saab guy on spending a weekend in a Volvo S60

Were it not for the time I spend instructing for In Control, given that the six cars belonging to various members of my household are all Saabs, I might never have the opportunity to really get to know what any other cars are like. This past weekend, I had the opportunity to spend two full days in a 2012 S60, put it through its paces, and I thought it might be interesting for a Saab guy to review our most direct competition.

I’ve done crash prevention training in lots of different cars over the years. Surprisingly, when it comes to the student’s experience, the type of car really doesn’t matter much. Good techniques are good techniques, no matter where they are applied. Each different type of car used, though, has to be handled slightly differently from the instructors point of view. The first car I instructed in was the Volvo S40. Say what you will about its humble origins, other than the cramped quarters (not for my diminutive frame, but for larger students), the good seats and ergonomics made the S40 a nice place to spend your day. It did everything reasonably well, and handled very predictably. Later, a second fleet was added and they were Kia Spectra SX. While we, the instructors, initially sneered at these cars, we grew quite fond of them. They were simple and fun. They did everything better than you thought they would, often better than the S40’s. While not as nice a place to spend your day as the S40, the Spectra was an easy car to learn to drive and performed surprisingly well in handling and braking maneuvers. Most recently, at In Control, I have spent a couple of years in Toyota Camrys. Instinctively I do not like these cars or what they represent. However, I recognize that for many reasons, they are the perfect vehicles for crash prevention training. A Camry is spacious, reasonably comfortable, completely familiar to students, and the performance surprisingly good. In fact, I’ll say that with the slightest bit of tire pressure manipulation, I can hang the tail out on a Camry better than any other car I’ve ever driven. Now there is a new car in the stable, the Volvo S60.

The Volvos arrived last week and I was asked to instruct in them for two days and give an assessment to help management and other instructors. Asking a Saab guy to test a Volvo is like asking a Ford guy to spend a weekend in a Chevy. While those of us with an enlightened view of Swedish motoring might make fun of our cousins from Gothenburg, more than ever the two Swedish brands seem to of a similar mindset. Where a generation ago, other than being safe and from Sweden, there was nothing similar between a Saab and a Volvo—not shape, not configuration, not drive-train layout—today there are lots of similarities. Volvo has seen the light and produces front-wheel drive cars with turbos. Saab saw the light and produces all wheel drive and station wagons. Both make distinctive CUVs, the S60 and S80 certainly beg comparison to the 9-3 and 9-5, and Saab and Volvo both engage in performance variants.

Of course the first impression of the car is of its external appearance. In general I am a fan of the corporate body shape which Volvo has adopted over the last decade. It is distinctive, and sometimes handsome. From most angles, I like the new S60. From the rear there is a bit too much Honda Civic, but that’s OK. The real problem is the nose. Sorry, Volvo. You almost got this car looking right, even “naughty,” but the front fascia is just ugly. Then again, so am I, so I won’t dwell on appearances. Getting inside, I think the Volvo folks got this right. This was a basic car—textile seat covers, no sunroof….The black interior with metallic accents is very handsome. The flow of the dash and door panels works well. Most of the bits had visual and tactile appeal. Ergonomics were good: I appreciated the very long throw of the telescoping wheel and an excellent dead pedal. Gauges and displays were clear, and the center stack video display integrates nicely and is not distracting. Seats were supportive, probably tight for larger frames. The big surprise was how pinched the rear was, both laterally and longitudinally. Not unlike the 9-3 (though the 9-3 has the same front legroom and 1.5 inches more in the rear), put someone tall in a front seat, and you simply can’t seat anyone (with legs) behind them. So far, I give the exterior design a “B” and the interior an “A-.”

Then it was time to drive the car. In the course of our training, we do a full-on panic stop with ABS, slalom, emergency lane change (with and without brakes) and tailgating drill. At first there was concern about the braking in the S60, which didn’t make sense since its brakes are huge and it is not much heavier than the Camry, which seemed to out-stop the S60. However, after repeated hard braking, the pads seated and the S60 braking was quite good, perhaps a tad better than the Camry and the ABS function much more refined.

In the slalom, I had to relearn, for the first time in ANY car, how to steer. At first the S60 seemed cumbersome and the DSTC (ESP for Saab people) intervened far too often. This brings to light one complaint I have, that the DSTC, even when turned off, still functions, albeit at more extreme thresholds. I think that stability control is one of the greatest innovations of all time, but if you are going to have an “off” switch, let it be truly off. At first I had trouble negotiating the slalom at 35 mph, while in a Camry I didn’t experience any difficulty until 40 mph. Eventually I realized that the steering in the Volvo is just so much faster than in any other car I had used, so significantly less input was required. I couldn’t execute the slalom yet at 40, but 35 became much smoother with no DSTC interference. Overall, I really like the weight and feel of the steering, and the car seemed nicely balanced. I have felt that, with the exception of the NG 9-5, most newer Saabs have steering which is too light, and wish they felt more like this Volvo. In the slalom department I give the car a B+.

In the lane change, or moose test, we always try to give the students a harrowing ride through with no brakes at 45-50 mph. In a Camry, that means getting very sideways by the exit gate. In the Volvo, part way through the second turn, the turn to bring you back into your lane, the DSTC would intervene just as the rear of the car was starting to swing. It made it a bit too tidy, but just messy enough to unnerve the students and show them why this maneuver should only be done with brakes. [In order to get that swing, I did have to bias the tire pressure with 6 psi more in the rear than the front.] I found that making the lane-change with brakes, given speeds of 60-65, that DSTC on or off made no difference, and the car was easy to steer through, though it did take longer to bring to a stop than the Camry. Lane change grade is an A.

Some of the advantage the Camry enjoys may have to do with the tires. We run Goodyear Eagles and they have lots of grip. The S60, by contrast, wears a much sportier profile tire, but the standard Michelin MXM4 has a 500 tread-wear rating, so blistering grip is not a priority. I suspect that when the tires are switched out, the S60 will reveal even better results.

Lastly, the T5 engine in the S60 (given Saab’s history of using T3, T5, T7 etc designations, Volvo should have called this engine something else) was terrific. It has that “odd” sound that is uniquely 5-cylinder, and the intake growl and exhaust note are wonderful. The turbo boost comes on early and is rather subtle. I do like that from a stop there is no delay when the throttle is stomped. While it shares the same Aisin Warner 6-speed Saab uses, the throttle response is much more immediate. I do wish, despite the modest turbo assist, that the car had a vacuum/boost gauge. I give the power train an A-.

I think that Volvo has done an excellent job with this car, with the exception of rear seat legroom. The S60 feels very substantial, very tight and drives bigger than it actually is. That’s not a negative! While very sure-footed, it does not have the quick reflexes of the 9-3, which drives smaller and lighter than it really is. I prefer the elements of the S60 interior over the 9-3, except the seats, but the 9-3 has an airier cabin, likely due to the less swoopy roof line which diminishes the window area on the S60. In automatic trim, I much prefer the Volvo powertrain. Though slightly dated, I prefer the 9-3 exterior design.

I very much like the S60 and think it hits its mark quite well. I do, overall, like the complete package just a bit better than the 9-3. Then again, at list price it is almost $2000 more, and that does not account for the 9-3 having a standard leather interior. Mostly, the preference comes from a better executed interior, better steering and a much stronger engine. Which would I buy? Despite some of the deficiencies, I think I’d just have more fun in the 9-3, so that’s where my money would go.

Road Trip Observations

Last week I took a road trip with wife and youngest son to see middle son participate in the Black River Stages Rally, west of the Adirondack Mountains in New York. It was a great time, and I came away with a few observations, some of them automotive.

Glorious roads. Part of our journey took us from Ticonderoga through Lake Placid and out NY 3 to the flat lands beyond the mountains. What a drive! It didn’t hurt that their foliage was ablaze. The gorges, the mountains, the forests and the waterfalls all made for a spectacular backdrop. For the purpose of this observation, though, the real treat was the driving experience itself. The road conditions were excellent, and the routes were a joy. Lots of curves, many properly cambered, helped to keep us focused and involved. Better yet, especially when compared to the ridiculously low speed limits of New Hampshire, was that the speed limits were such that I almost never needed or wanted to exceed them. As a rule, given the realistic nature of those limits, I saw no cars driving excessively fast. True, a 9-5 Linear SC is not a barn-burner, but it still enjoys a bit of up-tempo push. We were never hampered in our progress, and never felt like we were holding anyone else up (not that there that many on these two-lane highways), because at every mountain ascent there was an additional lane to allow everyone to find their appropriate place in the velocity hierarchy. I would like to return to those roads someday, perhaps in a convertible, top down in spring or early autumn.

Roadblocks. I had never seen roadblocks like we saw in New York. We saw three—two on I-87, and one on a two-lane highway. We were stopped in two of them. The first was manned by State Police. We didn’t think to ask what they were looking for, but they looked at us and waved us along. On our return, we were stopped by Homeland Security Border Patrol on I-87, and after waiting in a substantial queue, we had to inquire as to what they were looking for. Border and immigration violations, we were told. A noble cause…but wouldn’t you do that at the border, and not a few hours south of there? Besides, I never realized that we were suffering from an influx of undocumented Canadians.

Maps. Remember those? All messed up, impossible to refold and clogging your glove box and seat pockets? Then we got Map Quest, Google Maps and GPS. No more maps. Because I’ve learned not to trust GPS to get the big picture right on a long trip, I try to map a route on Google Maps first, and rely on GPS for the local navigation. On this trip we were doing fine with our paper turn-by-turn directions. Then Google made a mistake and caused us to miss an exit on I-87. Since the next exit was ten miles up, rather than double back, I pulled out the GPS unit (we call her Jill) and asked for assistance. As I expected, she put us on a course that was essentially westerly, which should eventually intersect our original route. My assumption was correct. However, because we did not have a map, we didn’t realize that Jill was making our route much more diverse and interesting than it needed to be. She would have us turn off the highway, onto barely paved by-ways with no markings, no center lines, and no civilization. Why? Was she retaliating for being neglected? Perhaps it was that the speed-limit reader in her was getting bad information. New York has a state speed limit of 55 mph unless otherwise posted. Jill indicated a speed limit on some of these back roads of 55, and I can assure that nobody except Sebastian Loeb would dare begin to approach those speeds, and in fact some of the roads were marked with 30 mph signs, contradicting Jill. While we found our destination, we did secure a map for the return trip and put Jill back in the glove box.

Panamera. On the return, we stopped in at Fort Ticonderoga at the heel of Lake Champlain to take the tour and eat a picnic. I noted the presence of, and took a moment to admire, a Porsche Panamera Turbo in the parking area. This is a car which elicits strong opinions. Mine is all affirmative. If Porsche was to build a sedan, it had to be the Panamera. It is the only current Porsche I have not driven. I would like to. More than anything, I like looking at it. Much like the Maserati Quattroporte, it eschews the styling norms that define other large sedans, and makes the A8L, the S-class and 7-series look dreary and dull. Upon my return to work, our GM stopped in and he was driving the same car—a black Panamera Turbo—for he was on his way to a Porsche event (Dan also manages a Porsche/Audi store and two Volvo stores). I had a chance to sit in the car, and it did not disappoint me at all. Though I would prefer a Saab seat (Porsche owners will feel right at home, though), I very much liked the rest of the interior. It felt rich and masculine. If not driving the car, it seemed like a nice place to enjoy a fine cigar and small batch bourbon. That sounds like an impossible dichotomy, but that was truly my first reaction.

Devastation. Much of Vermont is still out of order from the August floods. The state highway website did an excellent job in detailing which routes were opened, closed or opened with delays. Traveling east-west meant dealing with delays or not going at all. We chose US 4, which parallels the Ottauquechee River. The delays from ongoing road work were handled well, and frankly, we didn’t mind the stops because it gave us a chance to take in the destruction and the massive effort of the army of heavy equipment all along the river. In some stretches, aside from the total-loss damage to buildings along the banks, the river looked somewhat normal. However, to see houses, bridges and cars still in the river bed in other areas was unsettling. Vermonters are fierce bunch, and certainly they will put their beautiful state back in order. I would suggest the best way we can help them out is to “buy Vermont.” Perhaps cheese, Ben and Jerry’s, and at $40 a gallon, maple syrup is a relative bargain.

A 9/11 Rememberance

September 11 changed everything. Its tentacles are so vast, think of the “butterfly effect” on steroids, as to have effected even the substantial business changes I had to make this past week, in the foreshadow of the tenth anniversary. September 11, as it is for many, one of those seminal moments in life when everyone remembers where they were and what they were doing. The only other memory I have of something so momentous was the assassination of JFK, when I was a child, though my recollection is more of the profound grief of my grandparents as they watched the news unfold, than of any understanding of the situation itself.

Because observance of this day means so much to me, I knew that I had to get a post in place, even at the dereliction of some other pressing matters before me. I had hoped to reprint, or borrow widely from an article that appeared about my September 11 story in Fort Worth Weekly magazine, but alas their archives only stretch back to 2002. Fort Worth? Yes, I’ll explain that one later.

Monday, September 10, 2001. Along with fellow travelers Cory Bumpus and Carl Pasquarosa from elsewhere in our dealer group, we boarded an AirTran plane at Logan Airport to fly to Dallas-Fort Worth for some information system training. The same Logan Airport from which the WTC bound American Airlines planes would embark the following morning. Funny how innocuous events take on greater meaning after seismic change occurs. When we boarded the plane, which was one of those no frills one-class carriers, Carl, who is a perpetual cut-up, immediately engaged the flight attendant in jocular banter. We were right at the front of the plane, and he joked of being in “fist class.” Then, he earnestly told the attendant that he was a close and personal friend of the captain. She played along with Carl, and went forward and got the captain to come out of the cockpit and say hello, and invited us forward to see the cockpit. Perhaps we were the last airline passengers ever afforded this courtesy.

That evening, after settling into our hotel, I drove to Fort Worth to see Paul, a university and conservatory roommate, and meet his new wife, Beth. She was, like me, a cellist, and also a freelance writer, often writing for the Fort Worth Weekly magazine. After a quiet evening I returned to the hotel and retired.

I was up every early on Tuesday, September 11. The time change hadn’t registered, and I have been waking at 4 something for years, so my day started early, with not much to do. At about 7:30am Dallas time (8:30 eastern), perhaps because of the reminiscing the evening before with Paul, I took out my phone book and called another friend from my university days who lived and worked in Manhattan. I recall that the news was on in the background, sound off: nothing of importance that I hadn’t already seen already that morning. At about 7:45 (perhaps a few minutes later) I finished my chat, and decided to head to the conference room off the lobby of the hotel since class started at 8:00. When I exited the elevator, I saw that the television in the lounge area had a news flash about a “small plane hitting the north tower of the World Trade Center.” It was compelling enough that a few, including me, stopped to watch. Looking back, while I don’t know the exact moment I hung up the phone with the friend in New York, it has occurred to me that I was talking with her at the moment that tower was hit.

Just before the class started, people in the lobby were shouting about the second tower being hit. The class emptied for a time, and then everyone came back. But not for long. As news of the Pentagon attack reached us, and the scope of the disaster widened, to the consternation of the instructor everyone left the classroom to join in the collective observation of the horror and chaos which were unfolding. I think that the numbness that took hold of me precludes any specific recollection of the events, but I’ll never forget the nauseating feeling, and the crippling impotence I felt being so far from my family. We all remember the excruciating helplessness and bewilderment that befell us that day.

Cory, Carl and I, having long put aside the notion of participating in training, eventually decided we had to make plans to get back to Boston. I believe that we were originally scheduled to fly on Thursday, but it was becoming clear that nobody was flying anywhere anytime soon. We investigated trains, not possible. Same with buses. Then we called Enterprise to see what the cost would be to drive the rental car we already had back to Boston. We were advised that if the car left the state it would be reported stolen. I will admit that as things got more desperate, I had devised a scheme whereby we would exchange the license plates with another rental car, report ours stolen and drive back on exchanged plates. It never got that far.

Fortunately, the folks in Boston were hard at work trying to get us home. Tony Bartolotti, then of Boston Volvo, arranged the purchase of a new S80 with a Dallas dealer. When the world started to right itself, money was wired and we were able to purchase the car on Thursday morning, and straight away we made our way toward home. Carl took the wheel first, and we had decided that we would make as few stops as possible. I was on the second leg, so I tried to sleep in the back seat and discovered that the rear headrests in an S80 were very uncomfortable.

Our first stop was in Arkansas. I don’t recall the town. We stopped at a family restaurant and had dinner. Carl, in his inimitable way, had the waitress laughing the entire time as he poked fun of her, and of us Yankees. After dinner, Carl continued on to the Tennessee border, where, well into the evening, I started to drive.

I wanted to get a cup of coffee. Nothing special, just a good cup of coffee. Even an OK cup of coffee. Where in the northeast we can’t go a mile without driving past a Dunkin Donuts or Starbucks (or two, or three), we had no such luck in Tennessee. Thus, at a roadside stop, in lieu of coffee, I tried my first Red Bull. I can attest that one can kept me up and alert all night!

In the pre-dawn hours of Friday morning, I handed the wheel off to Cory. I remember my apprehension as Cory tore through a thick fog in the mighty S80. She was determined to get us home as quickly as possible! Later that morning, as we were in New Jersey running parallel to Manhattan island, we could see the smoke still pouring from Ground Zero. The low resolution photo does no justice to what we witnessed.

North of New York, just before the Connecticut border on Interstate 95, we experienced a moment of levity. There were strange sounds coming from the chassis of the S80. I heard it. Carl heard it. Two service managers concurred that there was something wrong with the car, so we pulled off to investigate. We both poured over the tires, suspension and undercarriage. While doing so, an attendant from the gas station where we parked came over to check on us. When we told him what we were doing, he laughed and said the noise was from a weirdness in the pavement, that lots of cars made that noise and plenty of those stopped in his gas station to check on it. Slightly embarrassed, we left.

A few hours later, about 30 hours since we had embarked, we arrived in Boston. I dropped off Cory and Carl at Boston Volvo and then went to Charles River Saab. There, learned that among those who perished, a passenger on one of the planes that hit tower one, was Anna Allison, a long time customer of Charles River Saab. After spending a bit of time with our employees, I finally was able to finish my journey home, finally able to have a sense of relief in being with my family.

While you may see some smiles on the faces in these photos, I can assure you that none of us was happy. We were immensely relieved to have a way home, and perhaps a little giddy with the anticipation of seeing our families. I will always think of Cory and Carl on September 11. Their fellowship was invaluable in staying emotionally sustained during that trying time. It is my sincere hope that none of us, no matter how directly or indirectly affected by the events of that day, ever forgets what happened.

As a post script, in an effort to make some sense and feel of some assistance to the victims of September 11, I wanted to do a fund-raiser. Where it seemed the emergency response victims were well spoken for, I came across a group looking to assist the under-served survivors of those who perished in the Windows on the World restaurant: The Windows of Hope Family Relief Fund. Thus, with my wife and a few friends, supported by the Village Automotive Group, we performed A Concert of Hope where admission was a donation, and were able to offer a nice sum to that charity. Though I hadn’t performed publicly in years, it seemed the least I could do.

Lord of the Trolls
By in large I try to stay away from commenting on news coming out of Saab Automobile. In general, it would be an impropriety, and besides, there are lots of other venues for such comment. I would prefer to spend the little time I have for composition writing about product or spinning yarns about the Saab experience.
In the past days there has been some troubling news—delayed salary payments to white-collar workers—from Saab which has been reported widely. I will state up front that I am still optimistic about where this will all end up. I do not believe that anybody at Swan or Saab is endeavoring to do anything other than to solve all the various challenges and get their ship righted. I also do not believe that Victor Muller intended for anything other than full on success for Saab, or he would not have embarked on what he knew would be an arduous journey.
Some time back I had decided to stop living and dying by the day to day, hour to hour news flashes coming out of Trollhattan. It was too distracting, too upsetting. I have a job to do, customers to be served, employees to be attended to and a family to support and love. There was a time, in 2009 and through the sale of the company when all we did was pay attention to daily machinations. I wasn’t going to put myself through all of that again. This is not to say that I have shuttered my eyes, blocked my hearing and stopped my internet perusal. I still have SaabsUnited and InsideSide as open tabs every day on my desktop, and I don’t at all mind having a notion of what is going on. I just read the news pieces differently, especially at SaabsUnited. I hit the headlines, scan some of the pieces, but I don’t bother trying to really understand and digest the minutiae—that’s where the nausea and heartache can come from. (This is also why InsideSaab is my favorite read, for Swade provides a relieving antidote for all those maladies.)
For reasons I don’t understand, there are many who still choose to mire themselves in the goo of every piece of bad news. In scanning the front page of SU yesterday, the top-of-the-page story was on the delay of salary payments to white-collar workers. There was the one paragraph press release, followed by a few sentences of commentary. I would have expected, in the context of all the recent Saab news, that said story might have generated a couple dozen comments. However, over the course of the day I saw the comment total kept escalating, fast. By the time it reached eighty-some, I had to have a look and what was so fascinating to so many SU readers. I read through the comments quickly, and I may have this a bit off, but my impression was this: the early comments were critical of Swan/Saab, then the mob turned its venomous comments toward SU and its caretakers, and finally the rock throwing got very personal among the users. Reminded me of Lord of the Flies. For a time, it only got worse (I’ll admit that at this point I was drawn by morbid curiosity) and I believe there were ultimately well over 200 comments. Finally, a moderator stepped in and banished one user, which seemed to have a cooling effect, and—far too late, in my opinion with the advantage of hindsight—comments were closed.
I believe that the challenging news from Saab over the past few months has had a very deleterious effect at SU. I feel for the new ownership, which tries to deliver lots of news posted there along with the Saab-interest stories. Someone I once worked with, noting rancor among employees during a slow period, told me that peace among the troops would return as soon as there was an up-tick in business. “Everything’s funny when you’re making money,” he would say. He was right. Likewise, I fear that as bad news remains the order of the day at an enthusiast site like SU, that hostility will keep fomenting among the users. I hope I am wrong. There are good people running that site doing a job that I’m sure feels very thankless at times. Still, if the caustic tone remains, many of the more civil users will simply stop showing up, which may make the barbarism even worse.
Then again, when production starts up next month, followed by the release of the 9-5 Combi and the anticipation of the 9-3 replacement, perhaps the good news will soothe the savages and civility will be restored. “Everything’s funny….” Let’s hope.

First impression: 2011 9-4x

Because the world works the way it does, and because I cannot cloister myself from the written opinions of others, I know that when I have a first impression of a new model that it is somewhat sullied by everything that I have already read or heard about that model. I guess, barring a paradigm shift, it will always be that way. Thus, having read many accounts of the 9-4x already, and having seen it in New York in April, I took my first drive in our new model yesterday.

The 9-4x I drove was one of two Aeros we received last week. This one is silver with a gray interior. I am not yet versed enough to know which of the features are standard and which are optional, and I chuckled when I tried to read the Monroney sticker to find out that the window tint is so dark as to render the sticker illegible. First stop was at the trunk, which I had to open to hang the dealer plate. I really like the “U-Rail” divider in the trunk. Of course, never willing to let any concept be good enough as it is, my mind immediately saw that it would be extra cool if the fence extended not only horizontally but also vertically to accommodate parcels of varying heights. Still, it is a very Saab feature, and the attached pictograph instruction sheet looks like it was prepared by the folks at IKEA. When I opened the trunk floor, I was surprised at the size of the sub-floor storage, but that’s the upside to having no spare tire. I was a little disappointed, but not surprised, to see that the floor was a composite and not wood as is found in many of my favorite Saabs. I played with the remote release and power closing tailgate. While technicians in the shop did test and pass the “anti-crush” feature of the auto-closing, I can say that when I just grabbed the tailgate and tried to restrain it, it kept closing undeterred. I did find it odd that the auto-close button was on the bottom lip of the tailgate and was a reach for me. Being short, I am sensitive to height issues, and I could see that for those even shorter than me it might be difficult to reach that button when the tailgate is fully opened. However, there is a second control for this on the driver’s door panel.

Stepping into the car one is greeted by a dash and console that are, if one has driven the 9-5, very familiar. Overall, I like the execution and prefer some of the detail work over that of the 9-5. Truth to tell, I had to keep looking between the two to see the subtle differences. In all, despite any minor criticism I might have for the interior styling, I am relieved to see that Saab is staying with a uniform design strategy across the model range. Seats are great, and the ventilation was appreciated given the heat-wave we are enduring at the moment. The steering wheel, right out of the 9-5, is magnificent. I don’t actually like the look of it, but when I’m driving, I only know the wheel by its heft and tactile sensation, and in that regard it is beyond reproach. The dead pedal is perfectly positioned. While a carry-over from GM, I do still like the shift lever in this car.

For a vehicle which is fairly compact, there are some facets which are enormous. On the Aero, the 20” wheels look almost too large, but as such enhance the overall appearance. The sunroof is one of those panoramic wonders, again like the 9-5, and when seated in the rear, the view is glorious. What a way to give someone a tour or, say, Manhattan where they could actually see the skyscrapers from very comfortable confines. Lastly, the A-pillars bother me some. I’ve seen smaller tree trunks. This is where reading other reviews might compromise my objectivity. While I didn’t get into the 9-4x and look right at the pillars, I had just read Swade’s account and as soon as my eyes noted the A-pillars, they were all that I could see. Was I predisposed to this from my having read his account? Perhaps, but fat pillars have bothered me before. The B-C-D pillars do not bother me. I use mirrors exclusively for rearward and side views, and when properly positioned are far more reliable than looking directly out of a car. When driving the 9-4x, I did encounter a corner where the pillars really impeded my vision and I had to crane to the right so see where I was going. The last new model which left me feeling pillar-phobic was the 1994 900, whose pillars were a bit larger than the C-900, but more importantly were positioned such that they encroached the driver’s visibility, which was very disconcerting at first. If I could make a suggestion regarding these large pillars, and this does nothing to help visibility, only perceived visibility: make the pillar trim dark so it disappears against the backdrop.

Speaking of visibility, the backup camera arrangement is excellent. This is not a unique system, but a first for Saab. It has trajectory indicators which I find to be reassuring. I have seen these in other cars, and for those who are concerned about backing in a larger vehicle, I would highly recommend this system.

The driving experience offered no surprises. Again, though this car sits very high in comparison, it feels, as it should, like a sibling to the 9-5. For those who haven’t driven a modern CUV, the real surprise is in the handling. While higher, the handling is not only sedan-like, but sport-sedan-like. I instructed once at a Porsche event, and had the pleasure of thrashing lots Boxers, Caymans, 911s and a Cayenne GTS. Once I got over my initial apprehension, I found I could be virtually as aggressive in the Cayenne, which appears slightly taller and larger than the 9-4x, as I could in the sports cars. In my jaunt, I did challenge the handling prowess of the 9-4x in a few spots, and it was very sure footed and predictable, with lots of reassuring feedback and an overall sense of great stability. There was one bit of weirdness on one corner which surprised me. I was taking a hard left, accelerating moderately and ascending. I did not engage the ESP, but it almost felt like I did, and there was a bit of tug at the steering wheel. I don’t know if I was sensing some torque redistribution by the XWD, or maybe I just did something wrong. I could not reproduce the sensation, so maybe….

I have two disappointments with the 9-4x. One is weight. As with the 9-5, the weight seems disproportionate to the overall size. There is no positive that comes from more weight, whether it’s around my waist or in the chassis of an auto. Weight reduction in a car feeds on itself—lighter weight means smaller brakes means less unspung weight which means lighter control arms etcetera. Likewise, being overweight has the opposite effect. Now if the 9-4x came in at a weight more in line with the RX350 or the Q5, then instead of the 3.0 V6 perhaps Saab could have put the 2.0 T4 from the 9-5. Oh, and that would have saved more weight . More importantly, it would have kept the line more consistent with current offerings and Saab tradition. I long argued that despite its shortcomings, if the 9-7x had been offered with a turbocharged I5 version of the 4.2 I6, we might have warmed to it more. As it is, Audi does offer their 2.0 I4 in the Q5, so why not us!

The other disappointment is the absence of a head-up display. I have quickly grown fond of this, especially with navigation as the approaching directions are indicated in the display. On a positive note, the multi-color screen for the Driver Information Center is so much better to look at than the green-monochrome screen in the 2011 9-5 (the 2010 9-5 was multi-color) and as such is a very attractive and readable focal point for the instrumentation. [Note: the saabusa.com website picture of the 9-4x instruments shows a monochrome display.]

In all, I am very pleased with the results of the 9-4x. I only hope that there is enough in the coffers to promote it, as it deserves to be seen and considered.

[For MUCH more information on the 9-4x, and significantly better pictures than I could ever take read Swade's three recent posts about the 9-4x at InsideSaab .]