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Saab’s saviour
Posted on February 2, 2010

Who better to buy the troubled Swedish marque from General Motors than a small, wacky Dutch company?


The first proper and enduring girlfriend I ever had came into my world in the passenger seat of a Saab. It was a 99, white with a blue stripe down the side, and trimmed within with a velour that I’m forced to describe as ginger.


It was her father’s and he loved it. This was the late Seventies, in the industrial north of England, when even driving a Mercedes-Benz whiffed faintly of treachery. Driving a Swedish car marked you down as a dangerous radical in need of careful monitoring.


I liked it, too, and so did Geoff Boycott if I’m remembering the ads correctly. It was a good looking car, with a quirky cabin and that nonsense with the ignition key. A year or two later, when we were old enough to drive, we were allowed to borrow it occasionally. But then she pranged it on a roundabout which, as usual, was somehow deemed to be my fault, and soon after that this particular avenue of youthful pleasure was closed to me.


You can read the rest here .


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