A little Sunday tribute to the Saab 9-3 Viggen seeing I’m feeling all sentimental now….
Firstly, a great shot landed in my Inbox. It’s from Andrew B, showing off his Lightning Blue 3-door with a new set of wheels, which he specifically sourced in order to preserve the look of the original Saab wheels. As you know, those original rims are made from a compound comprised of plasticine, cotton wool, tissue paper and water, so these should stand up a little better.
Jeremy was kind enough to source this writeup from an old issue of Car and Driver and send it through to me. Some interesting comments here. Especially towards the end.
Who gives a crap where it finished in their comparison. It’s a good read nonetheless.
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The assignment was simple. Recruit a crack team of top-flight road-test professionals and drive to the hinterlands of West Virginia with seven of the hottest mid-price sports sedans available. Return to headquarters with results that will prompt a flood of outraged letters suggesting that said team (1) consists of paid shills for one or the other participating marques and (2) would be better suited as Wal-Mart greeters or Foot Joy shoe salesmen.
Quickly assigned to the job were experts known internally as Chuck Pachetti, Spanky, Sea Bass, Biscuit, Milhouse, Louie, and Pusstoe, not to mention the Schnozzgrove, all of whom faced the perils of the Appalachian high country as well as having to don coats and ties for evening dinners at their advance base, the grand and gracious Greenbrier in White Sulphur Springs. Having never eaten at an establishment more elegant than the Sidetrack bar and burger grill in Ypsilanti, Michigan, the team was forced to make certain social adjustments for the Greenbrier, as they did with the natives in the outlying hollows, all of whom drove pickups, appeared to be heavily armed, and were in serious need of periodontal work.
West Virginia is blanketed with stunning mountain scenery laced with a magnificent network of smooth, winding paved roads. These are the result of a unique social agenda that has prioritized highway construction above other public works like, for example, schools.
No matter, the state is a driving paradise, especially for a collection of sports sedans all linked by as-tested prices between $33,896 and $40,235; punchy powerplants in the 210-to-231-hp range; and offering five- or six-speed manual transmissions.
Heading this group, at least in terms of curiosity, was the Cadillac CTS, fresh from its long-lead introduction to the national press in neighboring Virginia. We also had two 10Best winners in play: the much-celebrated BMW 330i and the new Audi A4 3.0 Quattro. Also on hand were the hot-off-the-presses Jaguar X-type 3.0 and the newish Lexus IS300 manual. Rounding out the lineup were the relatively familiar Lincoln LS and the charmingly baroque Saab 9-3 Viggen, the only four-cylinder, turbocharged front-driver of the lot. Seven diverse machines representing design philosophies from five nations, linked generally in size, pricing, body configuration, and most important, by the retention of the fast-fading enthusiast joy stick, the manual transmission.
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Sixth Place: 2002 Saab 9-3 Viggen
Looking for something unconventional, eccentric? Here’s a machine that hides its ignition switch in the cup holder. Here’s a machine with a teeny four-cylinder engine hooked up to a turbocharger the size of a Shop-Vac. Here’s a little five-door hatchback that looks like no other car on the road. Here’s the Saab 9-3 Viggen.
We are dealing with the last of the throwbacks—the last mass-produced passenger vehicle on earth that stays the course, refusing to yield to bourgeois fashion and show-off technology. The 9-3 Viggen is the latest hot-rod version of the Saab 900 first introduced in 1994, and it now offers an impressive 230 horsepower from its 140-cubic-inch turbocharged four-banger that has been a part of the Saab inventory since Eric the Red left for Greenland.
Face it, Saabs are an acquired taste, like single-malt Scotch and reggae. Although five-door hatchbacks and front-drivers are not exactly outré, the Saab is one last cry of protest in an increasingly androgynous world.
Slip behind the wheel of a Viggen, and find a chairlike leather seat, a chin-high instrument panel and windowsill, and a shifter and ignition switch located in a pit below your right hip. Sniff the distinctive odor of buttery-soft Saab leather, and you can be in only one place on the planet.
It goes not exactly like its Swedish-fighter-plane namesake, but it’s plenty quick enough to get it into the high-six-second range from 0 to 60 mph and to tie for first in this group from 0 to 100 mph and to be the winner from 0 to 120 mph (where the wonderful Whoopee Cushion turbo shows its muscle).
Once the rubbery shifter is mastered and the flexy chassis is understood, one can fairly fly in a Viggen. Imprudent throttle punches in slow corners can produce nasty lunges of torque steer, but once straightened out and with the turbocharger in full play, the Viggen is definitely a hoot to drive.
It’s cool that Saab has refused to accede to so-called contemporary styling and such nuances as four-wheel drive, naturally aspirated V-6s, or a swoopier, more aerodynamic body style. In a world of automobiles that only small boys and hard-core automotive writers can tell from one another—think Japanese cars—the Saab steadfastly clings to its roots.
For the unrepentant Saabistas and for those who have not forgotten George McGovern and the plight of the snail darter, this is a source of pride and comfort. For others, it is quaintness that is rapidly descending into obsolescence.
This is how Richo’s Viggen looked 
