It's kinda weird not having a bias towards any particular make of vehicle. When you don't have manufacturer loyalty, it means each car that you drive can be subjected to a truly honest, eye-opening evaluation.
I'll give you a prime example of what I'm on about...
While in Sydney on recent AutoSpeed business, Editor Julian and I decided to swing into a large Saab dealership on Parramatta road. I'd been scratching to drive a certain car that the vast majority of people couldn't give a toss about - a 1997 Saab 9000 Aero.
To me, though, this vehicle represents a 167kW European statement of class. Something to aspire to. And sure enough, this particular yard had one such vehicle sitting in their lot (you can never find a Saab 9000 Aero for sale back home in Adelaide!). I poured over every millimetre of the top 9000's cushy interior - its wall-to-wall soft black leather, those supremely comfortable electric seats, the hi-fi Sony sound system, power sunroof and all the rest of the fruit. It was an automatic (which wasn't my preference), but that's pretty typical of 9000 models.
Julian popped the bonnet. As we both stood peering down into the engine bay, we were a bit taken aback. "It all looks pretty old and ho-hum," I remarked. The intercooler pipes looked like they'd been fabricated at the nearby exhaust shop, there was no variable cam control, no external wastegate - or anything else that appeared even remotely fancy. Oh well, I figured, it's listed at 167kW - it can't be that slow...
I conned the salesman to let us take the Aero for a test drive. As the salesman bumpety-bumped the car along Parramatta Road, my first impression of the car was how firm its suspension setting was. For a short while, I naively clung to the justification that this thing must therefore be able to handle... We pulled to the side of the road, the slicked-hair sales exec swapped seats with me and I (finally) could feel the Saab for myself.
How was it, you ask?
Well - let me put it this way - I thought I heard someone burst my balloon barely fifty metres down the road.... Damn it!
And why was I so immediately disappointed? Cos I quickly discovered that the Aero's got God-awful steering vagueness at the straight-ahead position - something that's all-too-common in European cars.
A series of corners approached. I set the car up for a racing line through the first - but, at the last second, I realised that the chassis wasn't positioned exactly where I wanted to be. A last minute jiggle with the vague steering wheel put me off my game and we fumbled through at some half-arsed speed. Grrrrr, this Aero sure didn't do much for me chuckability wise. It wasn't the car's handling characteristic that was the problem, though, it's just that I couldn't feel its position or relationship with the road.
But it did go reasonably briskly in a straight line. A flooring of the accelerator pedal showed me how well the turbo'd 2.3 litre and auto trans could team up. The torque converter let the engine revs flare a little and wssshhhhh - we were off. Don't get me wrong, the Aero wasn't WRX quick - but it went well enough to let you know you weren't driving an underpowered pretender. It felt like it could hustle itself to 100 km/h in around 8 seconds.
Within about five minutes of driving, my gut-busting enthusiasm for the Aero had all but gone - the experience wasn't nearly as magical as I'd imagined it to be. I soon (willingly) surrendered Julian a turn behind the wheel - it was someone else's turn to slide the car salesman back and forth across the leather-trimmed back seat... A couple of corners and a couple of squirts later, Julian was almost echoing my words on the car. He also noticed that a smidgin of inside front wheelspin was intruding on some tighter manoeuvres. Indeed, the Aero was nothing inspiring for him either - it was "more of a gentleman's car" he oh-so-wisely suggested.
We arrived back at the dealership - with me feeling slightly ripped-off. The salesman took me into his glitzy showroom where he tried to talk turkey, but he soon recognised I wasn't keen. "Thanks, but no thanks," I told him, as I mentally scratch the Saab 9000 Aero from my "I'll get one of those some day" list.
And now a certain degree of weirdness set in. We're driving off to our next AutoSpeed appointment (we don't usually just drop in places or wander aimlessly!) and Julian wonders aloud about the advantages of having a boosted four cylinder over a sweet revving naturally aspirated six. Then we ask ourselves the ever-clinching question. What advantages does the 1997 Saab Aero 9000 have over a current Magna Sport (one of our favourite wouldn't-know-it-if-you-haven't-tried-it machines)?
Hmmm, now there's something to think about.... No, really think about it!
At around $38,000 used, the Saab 9000 Aero scores points for its luxury trim, build quality and it would - no doubt - give the owner warm fuzzies whenever they looked at it. It loses points over the Magna for an (even more!) unstable resale value, expensive factory parts, lack of Australian aftermarket parts, turbo-rate insurance and a slightly higher purchase price. Scope for increasing power is also limited, given the car's already-high static compression ratio and boost pressure. And who in Australia would be interested in buying a Saab 9000 Aero with any engine mods (which would be inevitable if I ever owned one)?
The $35-37,000 Mighty Magna on the other hand - well, it's big, it's aerodynamically slippery and I'd bet it's quieter and smoother running than the prestigious Saab. It is also a brand-spanking new car. Handling - with the Sport's rear swaybar - is reasonably good (especially on the open road) and the 163kW 3.5-litre V6 offers tremendous response, torque and - of course - out and out performance. No, it doesn't come with leather, but the manual gearbox equipped Sport can do 0-100 in the low Sevens dead e-a-s-y. That's faster than the prestige turbo'd Swede - and with vastly better throttle response and off-the-line grunt as well.
And then we start rambling on about the Mitsubishi parts bin - interchangeable camshafts, chip upgrades, a big exhaust and intake. Oh, and the drop-in Mitsubishi front LSD and, and...
Ahhh, who would've thought it? A 3-4 year old top-end (it sold once for $79,000!) turbocharged European overshadowed by a Magna. It really does prove that it's not wise to worship any particular marque.
Though some people tend to look at me funny when I tell them how I'd love a Magna...
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