The vast majority of Australians come from either convict or immigrant stock. Personally, I’m a third generation German/Irish/English mix with no convict history that I know of. But as a country, we still have this convict mentality - one that keeps us pretty level-headed. We’re internally famous for the tall poppy syndrome, where anyone who starts to think they’re better than the rest gets brought back to earth by a wave of popular opinion. Pull your head in. You’re no better than us, kiddo, ’cause your great-great grandfather was a bread thief, just like mine! Or something like that.

Our cultural superiors parents in England like to remind us of our heritage every now and then, which is why we probably enjoy giving them a good kicking on the sporting field every couple of years (don’t get too cocky, you poms. Jonny Wilkinson’s not getting any younger and our Wallabies will be back).

As a person, I know that I came from a blue collar household. I know that after my Dad (a butcher) passed away in 1985, my Mum worked her butt off in a hospital laundry so that she could continue to send me to a good school. We had a great home and I grew up in a typical Aussie family with a typical Aussie kid’s life: playing street cricket with the neighbors, cheering for my football team on the weekend and getting stuck into the other kids at school on Monday morning when my team won and theirs lost.

We had two Fords in the driveway. Dad’s XY wagon from the early 1970s and Mum’s Ford Cortina - the first car we ever bought brand new. Later on they were joined by my big sister’s Morris 1100 and her boyfriend’s Datsun 180B - the car I learned to drive in years later, after they got married.

Growing up modest in a country like Australia gives you a low tolerance for inept authority, a fun-loving mischevious streak, a good grounding in watersports and a naturally occurring chip on your shoulder. It doesn’t always give that much of commodity sought so keenly in other places - confidence. The Australian way is to err on the side of caution in that regard. Confidence can quickly lead to arrogance, which will mark you as a tall poppy and therefore, as a target. We quietly admire success and though we embrace the successful (as long as they’re still like us) we don’t openly and mindlessly applaud it.

Growing up modest in a country like Australia also means that you learn to appreciate a good thing when you see it. A luxurious car isn’t a normal thing. A European car isn’t a normal thing. An American car isn’t a normal thing (that’s why people can ask $30K for a 15 year old Chevy Trailblazer). The normal thing is the family sedan with as few bells and whistles as the manufacturer will allow. At least that’s how it was when I grew up.

I remember my first drive in a Saab 9-5. I felt like I was approaching a machine that I wasn’t qualified to drive. Just getting the fold-out key in my hand made me feel special. This car was for the successful, those who’d made their way through the models that I was driving at the time (a 99T with a 900 back at home). The car was luxuriously appointed and felt smoother on the road than anything I’d ever driven before. As I had no frame of reference other than a few short drives in a couple of other Euro cars, I was completely blown away, and still am to this day. The 9-5 is still an incredible car to drive, though I’m slightly ashamed to say that whilst I’m not exactly blasé about it now, my level of near-worship has subsided.

When you drive Saabs all the time, it’s easy to figure that it’s “normal”. It’s not. Go spend a week or two in what really is a “normal” car. A garden variety car from one of the garden variety brands. The sort of thing we had at our house when I was a kid (though obviously you’d substitute more current models for what we had back then). When you get back in your Saab you’ll realise again how well thought out it is. How good it feels when the turbo kicks in. How good it looks when you hit the central locking button, walk towards the house/shops/wherever and glance back to see it parked there. These cars aren’t normal.

And nor should they ever be normal. That’s probably the biggest challenge facing Saab’s designers in the future. Saabs are supposed to be an automotive expression of thoughtful Swedish design. It’s part of the DNA of earlier Saabs and it’s much of the reason we get so hooked on them. A cookie-cutter mentality cannot be part of Saab’s future, not if it wants to maintain its integrity, at least.

I guess the main message here is in the headline. Don’t lose your reverence. If you lose your reverence for the brand then that means you’ve lost sight of what made it great for you in the first place. And that means you’ve lost sight of the standard you hold for it into the future.

For me, I grew up in manner that made Saab stand out for me right from the get-go. I didn’t have to work at appreciating it. I loved cars and loved to drive and Saab just fit me like a glove. And they were so well made, well designed and just flat-out different that I couldn’t have been more blown away. It started a relationship that sees me writing what you’re reading right now.

There’s that old, worthy and well intended question - “Have you hugged your kids today?”. I don’t want to sound completely and utterly stupid, but I will.

Have you hugged your Saab today?

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