The Short Version: Known for its dorky-chic hatchback sedans and sophisticated turbo powertrains, Saab became a bit conservative and dull as it closed out the 1990s. Nevertheless, the much-maligned New Generation Saab 900 is one of the author’s favorite cars, his appreciation fueled primarily by the nostalgia of a VHS brochure he acquired when he was just a kid. This is that video brochure.
Oh, Saab. The yuppie darling in the 1980s, cool-mom transport in the 1990s, and near-luxury pretender in the 2000s should never have suffered the fate it did. Devotees to the brand are quick to blame General Motors for its unceremonious death in 2010, and while that might be an overly simplistic view of the situation – Saab never sold in large numbers, even in its heyday – GM still left fingerprints all over the quirky Swedish outfit.
One of the most obvious examples of GM’s mainstreaming is the second-generation 900, codenamed New Generation or NG. The first-generation Nio Hundra is known for its clamshell-style forward-tilting hood and longitudinal engine placement far forward of the front wheels – plus the resultant miles-long front overhang.
On the other hand, the NG900 is known for, erm, not much. Owing to a body architecture and optional 2.5-liter V6 shared with GM’s European-market Opel Vectra, many naysayers claim the NG doesn’t have the charm of its forebears, the Saab 900 Classic and 99, and they might be right. I don’t care, though. I love the NG900. For me, it’s pure nostalgia.
You see, back in the late-1900s, magazine ads for cars always had little toll-free numbers you could call for more information, and if you asked nicely, the automaker would send you a brochure of the car in question, a privilege I took advantage of as often as possible. But while I barely remember the packages I received from Buick, Volkswagen, and Dodge, I vividly recall Saab’s promotional materials, because they came in the form of a 22-minute-long VHS tape, one I recently rediscovered in digitized form on YouTube.
The first several minutes comprise a full-line video brochure for the 1995 lineup, with a confident, hip-sounding gentleman extolling the virtues of the Saab 900 and 9000 accompanied by synthesized smooth jazz and Jean-Philippe Delhomme’s exquisitely period-correct animations. Featuring colors that wouldn’t be out of place in a Matisse painting, this video brochure introduced 7-year-old me to the individualistic persona that Saab cultivated over its whole lifecycle.
The tone very suddenly shifts at the six-minute mark, transitioning from confident peculiarity to a serious discussion of real-world safety. Despite the subject matter, I couldn’t constrain my morbid curiosity as I saw yellow 900s crash into yellow 9000s, the dummies inside evidently avoiding serious injury thanks to the best safety engineers in Sweden. The segment also includes a “moose test,” but not the swerving one you’re thinking of. With the help of Magnus Gens as part of his master thesis project, Saab constructed an 800-pound crash test dummy resembling a moose or an elk, then ran its cars into it to test A-pillar strength and prevent the massive mammal from ending up in your lap. Neat.
But far and away the most entertaining portion of this VHS brochure is the last six minutes or so, where the Saab Performance Team comes into play. The drivers perform 360-degree turns, drive on two wheels, and fly through rings of fire, each stunt carefully choreographed to show the athleticism of the red Saab 900 Turbo Coupes they’re driving. Better than the stunts themselves are the video’s soundtrack, which sounds like if you’d ordered a Tina Turner karaoke album on Wish – if anyone has any leads on what the song’s called, send them my way.
And then better still is the film’s B-plot, chronicling the star driver’s commute to the track. Approaching a red light in his light blue 900 five-door, he notices the driver of a 900 cabriolet in the lane next to his. The camera cuts to her lipsticked smile in the rear-view mirror, then her immaculately manicured hand operating the shifter of Saab’s Sensonic clutchless manual transmission. As she takes the time at the stoplight to lower the roof, they exchange coy smiles. The two part ways as the light turns green, never to meet again. Or do they?
That old Saab VHS isn’t a cinematic masterpiece by any means. In fact, it’s so corny and silly that it’s a wonder the marketing department thought it would work to convince people the floppy hatchback was a performance car. And while the later 9-3 and 9-5 models are big improvements over the somewhat dull NG900, it’s still the Saab I want most, because every turn of its console-mounted key would thrust me back to being 7 years old again, hoping to one day become as cool as that star driver.
