Andy's 1988 Porsche 928 S4

It has just gone noon, but the puddles at the end of the drive are still frozen solid, despite the best efforts of the late November sun. My nerves are jangling big time as I back this big brute of a sports car down the crowded drive, between various parked cars, and onto the cul-de-sac beyond. Andy jumps into the passenger seat, I slide the lever into drive, prod the throttle gingerly, and we burble off down the still frosty streets of Glenrothes. Having the owner ride alongside as a passenger is a first for Car Keys of Separation, but my cousin seems contented enough, so I take a deep breath to settle myself. The first few miles are a bit of a blur, I'm lost and disoriented, unsure of where I am as we rumble our way through Scotland's answer to Milton Keynes. More of a worry is how slippery these main roads are and how much grip those substantial 225 45 R17 front and 255 40 R17 rear tyres are going to give.

As we pick up the M90 and head towards Perth for a bit, the numbing fear subsides as does the worry that this car is going to be an uncontrollable handful. I've remembered the best way to use the floor hinged accelerator, sliding my heel into the base of the pedal and accelerating with a point of my right toe. The large brake pedal is an easy reach away, and this being an Auto, my left foot is pinned to the well located footrest for the duration of the afternoon. Even a short time behind the wheel make the size of this car less imposing, sure the bonnet slopes out of sight in front of you, and the rear wings loom large in the side mirrors, but it doesn't look or feel quite as enormous on this motorway as it did in that driveway. It still feels wide every time we have to squeeze our way though another narrow village high street, although it could have been worse, apparently they chopped 3" out of the width early in development when someone noticed that it would be too wide for the European car train wagons.

Just west of Perth, we pick up the A85 towards Crieff. This is one of Andy's favourite biking roads and I can see why. The scenery is great even when the rain clouds close in and offload for a while. The road has that great combo of twisty, with the odd straight section, and most importantly not too heavy with traffic. Overtaking couldn't be easier, spot a straight, pull out, plant the throttle to the floor, wait a moment, then the 'box kicks down a few gears, the engine revs rise and the car surges at the horizon in a roar of meaty V8 growl and howl. This 5.0 litre S4 has gained a few tweaks, many of them from Porsche themselves, like the sports exhaust, those Cup wheels, a GTS rear bumper panel and rear wing, plus a Superchip to round things off. Performance figures are probably somewhere north of the factory 316bhp and 317ft/lb torque and the 0-60 has probably dropped below the original 5.7 seconds too.

We pull up in a lay-by to take some photos by the river that flows from Loch Earn and we both stand there clicking away with our camera phones for quite a while. I once would have listed this as my least favourite front engined Porsche, but the proportions look so much better in the metal. We flick the headlights on for effect and I notice the sculpting of the lamp housings for the first time. A panel neatly fills the hole left by the upturned lamp and the housing itself is reminiscent of those chrome units pre-war cars have. The revised rear lights and bumper of the S4 freshened the exterior appearance compared to the earlier cars, the detailing being the only thing that dates these 928's at all. The polyurethane front and rear bumpers were quite a rarity in 1978 when the 4.5 litre car was launched, but were commonplace by the time the last 5.4 litre GTS's left the factory in 1995.

Popping the bonnet reveals a masterpiece of engineering, that 32 value V8 is quite a snug fit under the narrow bonnet that resulted from that width reduction. The lack of space can make maintenance work a bit of a nightmare as bumper and wing removal becomes necessary. There is says Andy, just enough space at the front of the engine bay for a supercharger, courtesy of one or two clever American manufacturers. I can see the appeal, but with miles of greasy grit covered roads waiting ahead, I'm quite glad he hasn't succumb to the temptation just yet. The stop has made us realise the time and our bellies so we decide to press on to St Fillans and The Lochside Larder for lunch. As we pull out of the lay-by I decide to give it full chat, in the name of research you understand, the rear wheels instantly break traction, accompanied by that sound only wet rubber on wet road can make. I'm expecting the power to wain and the tyres to regain grip, instead, the 'box changes into second and the whizzing noise continues. I finally run out of space and steering lock, so lift off, straighten up, and return to the correct side of the road. We are chuckling away like school boys and Andy eventually confirm that it'll just keep spinning those wheels 'til the tyres are shredded.

Over lunch Andy recounts how he first fell for the Porsche 928 as a child when a school friends dad bought one and he was taken for a spin in it. I think seeing my old 944 Lux at a family get together rekindled Andy's love for the 928, coz by the next spring he'd found this cherished and cosseted low mileage example online. The sound of that sports exhaust in a video clip was the final clincher, so in February 2010 he got the cash out of the bank, made his way down south to complete the deal and collect his new toy. The then owner was almost in tears when Andy arrived. The owners wife put the kettle on, and worried that the whole deal was about to fall through, Andy put the cash on the kitchen table. This did the trick, and a hasty retreat was made before Geoff could change his mind again.

Dropping down into the drivers seat yet again, I'm more able to take in my surroundings than earlier in the day. Andy was busy last winter, fitting a new tan coloured carpet set, black leather seats, and an after market stereo complete with monster sub speaker in the boot. It all looks a lot better than the original eighties-tastic white leather with white carpets. Many of the details will be familiar to anyone who has been in any 80's Porsche, though the dash and centre console do give away the late 70's origin of the design somewhat. The four round black dials have simple white graphics and are flanked on either side by four large round buttons for minor controls. Two sliders, a knob, and an A/C button complete the ventilation controls in the centre console and a trio of easy to reach stalks control the major controls and cruise control.

You sit very low in these uniquely shaped two piece Recaro seats that hold you in place perfectly on the move. There are 12 control buttons on the side so finding the perfect position is easy enough. Your legs are stretched out fairly flat in front of you and that steering wheel does seem to sit in your lap at first, but its all very comfortable and cosy. There are some fantastic details in here too, like the door pocket lids that swing open with a thump press. The four spoke black leather steering wheel has the classic 'PORSCHE' script embossed on the horn pad and wonderfully tactile stitching that runs around the inside of the rim.

I'm really starting to enjoy this car as we weave our way around Loch Earn then turn south onto the A84 past Loch Lubnaig. I start using the auto lever to hold the 'box in third, keeping the revs a little higher and feeding the car from corner to corner with more conviction. It's amazing how agile and controllable this big car is starting to feel as you sweep through the bends, how quick and unruffled it can be in such tricky conditions. I'm also able to take onboard the detail of that engine note as the revs rise and fall. Below 1500rpm you barely hear the engine at all and would be hard pressed to identify what configuration it was. Between 1500 and 2000rpm there is a subtle but beautiful warbling noise that can only be a V8 coming to life. As the revs rise the note hardens until that sports exhaust really starts to join in after 3500rpm and the thing really starts to roar. It's an absolutely fabulous sound that I never tired of, even later on in the evening, at the end of our long trip.

Before we reach Callander, we peal off onto the narrow little A821 that runs west past Loch Venachar and Loch Achray, before turning south for Aberfoyle. This is a twisty old strip of tarmac with no one else on it, so I drop the lever into second and really start to press on through the corners. With good visibility of the road ahead I press harder and harder into each corner with no sign of reaching the cars limits. The weight of the steering is superb, the ride is firm but never harsh, the handling is sweet, with great feedback through the controls. I don't mind automatic gearboxes, providing there is a decent amount of engine power to compensate for the drivetrain power losses and slight delay in reactions. This short stretch of road is the only point at which I wonder what the 5 speed manual would be like. That Auto 'box in more than welcome though as darkness falls and we thread our way east towards Stirling and back to Glenrothes.

I must confess that the Porsche 928 has never been a 'Hero Car' of mine, I haven't coveted one since childhood like Andy has, but it is a legend of a car and has migrated its way up my mental list of 'Must Drive' cars over the year. History can be a little hard on the 928, that was originally conceived as a replacement for the 911, which being rear engined was about to fall foul of new regulations in the valuable American market. Those regulations never arrived, turbo technology and new company management meant the iconic 911 could be developed further than was previously expected, and all the front engined models kind of got snubbed for being too conventional. The truth is that they were and are great sports car that made healthy profits for Porsche who could then afford to make the heavy investments that the 911 needed to survive. This snobbery does mean that these front engined cars are a lot cheaper to buy than their 911 counterparts. Maybe the 928 should make the transition onto my mental 'Must Own' list before too many more people work that out.

Thanks to Andy for the loan of his car.
ⓒ Dan Ewing 2012

Paul's 2002 Toyota Yaris 1.0 VVTi GS

“Really?!” That was the slightly surprised reaction Paul gave to my acceptance of his half joking offer to review his humble little runaround. Fortified by several pints of Deuchers IPA in the warmth and comfort of the Low Light Tavern, I was confident that there would be plenty of note to write about. Fast forward a few weeks and sitting in the passenger seat at 7:30am on a bleak grey Thursday morning, my confidence has wained somewhat. The plan was simple enough and should provide the necessary opportunity for any car to show signs of promise beyond 'being better than public transport', but as we circumnavigated Newcastle upon Tyne on our way to Paul's workplace, I couldn't help but feel that this Yaris was going to be an uninspiring steer.

Mooching our way along the A1056 past Killingworth towards the A1, Paul and I were surprised to work out that he's had this car for six years, having made a rather swift purchase after the demise of his wife's old bubble shaped Nissan Micra, post MoT failure. Although he'd only just started to look for a replacement, the price of the then four years old car, with its low mileage, and only one or two minor interior blemishes, was too good a bargain to miss out on. As a second car to commute in and occasionally collect the kids from nursery, the fairly basic one litre 3 door hatchback was ideal. We eventually come to a halt outside the swanky out of town office complex where Paul is due to embark on another day of accountancy software development, and I finally get my hands on the keys and transfer to drivers seat.

Turning the key even that first notch in the ignition brightens my mood quite literally. The digital dials of the centre mounted display came to life in green and red LED's. This panel is angled towards the driver, so you don't notice it from the passenger seat, which is in some ways quite a shame. The dash had looked as bland and grey as the cloudy sky outside, but the sight of the large numeric speedo and semi circular bar graph rev counter cheer things up considerably, for the driver at least. That centre console allows for a very geometric dash layout with large clear controls that are easy to identify and use. Two decent sized glovebox replace the steering wheel on the passenger side and cubbyholes either side of the centre console prove to be more useful than they first appear.

As it's still early, I decide to join the hoards of commuters and trundle down The Great North Road through Gosforth and towards the City Centre. It becomes instantly clear that this is going to be an easy car to drive and well suited to the commuter crawl. All the pedals and controls are nicely weighted, with a smooth gear change, light steering, and good visibility. The humble 68bhp and 66ft/lbs of torque are both adequate to the task of keeping up with the traffic on the rare moments when the road ahead clears. I cut across the Town Moor in search of Westgate Road and the A69, intent on an escape to the country. On the westward bound duel carriageway, that modiste power output starts to struggle. It can manage a steady cruise on the level, but those Northumbrian hills are a constant reminder that you've only got one litre to play with. As I loose momentum up yet another steep incline, I start to wonder whether this was the best destination for a little city dweller.

Its reasonably refined in here and although there can be quite a bit of engine noise, its usually a sign that you're being over ambitious and need to ease off a little. The seating position does feel fairly upright, but the feeling of space is rather welcome in a car of this size. North of Hexham the lanes merge into a single carriageway and I slow to the inevitable crawl that often occurs when you catch up with one of the many articulated lorries that frequent the A69. A few miles later I get to peal off onto the A686 and take in the delights of the Alston Pass, a road which winds its way over the Pennines to Penrith, and has long been a favourite road of mine.

The first few miles twist and turn gently up hill through the forests beside Langley Burn and the constant stream of 2^nd gear corners make exploring the levels of grip easy enough. That little 16v power plant happily rev's quite hard and delivers enough go to pull the car willingly out of each bend. Those high seats and a fair amount of body roll leave you sliding around in your seat a bit, clinging onto the steering wheel, holding yourself in place with spirited driving. This is fine when you're in the car on your own, but could be alarming for any would be passengers. The great thing about the Alston Pass is the constant variation, so after a few miles of dashing through the forest, the road straightens out for a while and you get a chance to cruise past any slower moving road users. And so it goes on, twisty forest lined fun, then open moorland stretch, throw in the odd set of switch backs, village, or stout stone bridge, and beauty continues for mile after mile.

Finally I find myself entering the village of Melmerby, and stop at the Village Bakery for a coffee and to ponder the question 'what am I going to say about this seemingly consumer appliance of a car?' Sitting there sipping my Latte, I suddenly remembered my early journeys through this village in one small hatchback or another, dreaming of more power, better grip, and prestigious stopping power. These small base model motors give so many people their first taste of freedom, getting to enjoy the process of driving, learning to find the limits of the car, carry speed through corners, anticipate overtaking manoeuvres, and so much more. The fond memories of rusty old Metro's and dodgy Fiesta's being hurled at hill and dale as fast as their screaming valve gear would allow, provoke a more nostalgic view of the prospect of driving this Yaris back to Newcastle.

Retracing my route back into town, the confidence is swelling and I'm having a blast. I'm pushing harder through the corner, rev'ing the engine closer to the limiter in return for those final few horses and getting some encouraging engine noises to urge me on. On the big open switch backs near the hill top Hartside Cafe, I finally reach the limits of front end grip, the nearside wheel chugging in protest as it sheds off the excess speed. Theres no need to panic, no terminal understeer, or oversteer as you lift off a little, the car just gathers itself back up and resumes normal service. Even the run back along the A69 seems more fun, anticipating those hills and working to sustain you pace becomes quite enjoyable in its own right.

Back in the city centre, casually carving my way though the traffic I finally find a suitably urban corner to stop and take some photos. This car was ok looking when launched but the two later generations have left it looking a little frumpy. Looking more closely, I notice that the front is quite a good shape, the wheels fill the arches better than I had realised, the rear lines are good too, its the shape of the side windows on the 3 door that makes it look a little odd. Tootling around for the rest of the afternoon, doing the odd errand or two whilst waiting to retrieve Paul from his cubical, I cant help but find myself feeling quite fond of this little car in a way I hadn't expected. Its a bit like Ronseal, 'Does what it says on the tin'. Its no great revelation in motoring, or even small car packaging, and its probably not the best small car of its era, but it does the basic task of commuting very well, and within reason can do a pretty good job of motorways and entertaining A and B roads too. What more can you ask for?

Thanks to Paul for the loan of his car.
ⓒ Dan Ewing 2012

Suzanne's 2001 Ford Focus 1.8 TDDi Ghia

Any attempt to analysis the build quality and refinement will have to wait until I find the baby rattle that is currently jostling around somewhere it the back. Noise levels can't be too bad coz I can clearly hear the little beads rattling inside the plastic ring. Hawaiian flower Lei's and a Converse sneaker air freshener hang from the rearview mirror, a foam skull & cross bones flag on a spring bounces about on the dash-top, there's a bottle of diet Coke rolling around the front footwell, a handful of baby toys and abandoned homework on the back seat. I haven't dared peer into the rear footwells yet and have been advised not to bother trying to use the boot! This is the least cluttered I've seen this car since Suzanne first got 'Jack the Wrecker' last summer, but to be fair, as it is used to transport a teenage Lotte and a baby Io around, clutter is only to be expected.

Suzie chose this Focus primarily because of the good reviews that the TDDi diesel engine gets and previous experience of later model Focus' used for work trips. The low'ish mileage, bargain price, and Ghia spec list all helped to tip the balance in its favour. Living in Seaton Delaval, with family and friends in Whitley Bay, and work calling for travel all over Newcastle upon Tyne, the ensuing high annual mileage made the choice of a diesel as must really. It's a good looking car, the first to successfully use Fords 'New Edge' design philosophy (the Ka was a little too dumpy, the Cougar tried too hard). The exterior styling uses this one curved line that gets repeated across the car. Its there over the headlights, around the front wheel arches, in the rise of the A pillar, the fall of the rear windows, and the high mounted rear light clusters. It has aged well, the two replacement versions have never really improved on the original.

Having already gone north to pick up the car, I decided to head further north on a little trip around Northumberland to give this car every chance to show its merits. These first generation Focus' were highly lorded by professional journalists when first launched and they've been harking on about them ever since. So although on one level I want to like this car, there is also this niggling fear that it has been over hyped over the years. Picking up the A186 Spine Road I skirt around Ashington before following the brown Coastal Route signs that should lead me to Seahouses. It is a pretty route and good fun when its not too busy. Being after 4pm on a late October afternoon, it's getting dark and everyone seems to be heading home from work.

The steady traffic allows me time to get settled into a comfortable position and get use to the controls and adjust my expectations to match the modiste performance available from that 89bhp engine. Inadvertently missing the Coastal Route turn-off the other side of Amble, I end up on a quiet B road that runs through Eglingham and onto Chatton. Having read on Wikipedia that the multilink rear suspension gave exceptional ride comfort, I wasn't convinced at first, but as I track my way down this unknown road, it occurs to me that the surface is in a terrible condition and the suspension is absorbing the bumps very well. In spite of the failing light, unknown route, and muddy water that is streaming onto the road from the sodden fields, this car really starts to come alive.

Threading my way eastwards toward Bamburgh, it becomes clear that the steering is not only accurate, but well weighted, with sharp reactions and clear feedback of what the front wheels are doing. In addition to providing a good ride, that multilink rear suspension works a treat when it comes to handling, as the back end never seems to get out of shape. The gear change is very smooth and slick, the ratios are well chosen providing access to the lag free performance of the engine, delivering smooth progress. The engine does show signs of a little coarseness at times that betrays its lineage back to the mid 80's and the absence of a sixth gear shows itself when cruising back down the A19 later in the evening. The brakes are good and easy to moderate, unlike just about every Mondeo I've driven from this period, that were always so sharp that you'd end up head-butting the steering wheel for the first few miles of driving.

Sitting on the quayside at Seahouses eating a carton of Neptune's finest fish & chips I have a chance to take stock of my surroundings. At launch there were grumblings about the quality of the interior plastics, but I think they are okay. The consistent match of the different plastics and the lack of wear after 11 years of use help to make this a nice place to sit. The piano black inserts and super smooth velour of this Ghia model enhance things, as does the use of a swooping swag line that runs all the way across the car, from driver to passenger door, bringing that 'New Edge' design treatment to the interior. The ubiquitous Ford double din stereo fits nicely into the curvature of the centre console, unlike some other Ford dashboards.

Having refuelled myself and my ride, I make my way south back along the Coastal Route aiming to pick up the A19 for home at some point. With weather conditions worsening, I ere on the side of caution, consciously easing off in a desire to return someone else's pride and joy in one piece. Those modiste power and torque figures, together with the great ride and superb grip, along with the clear feedback from all the controls, mean that you never feel that you're pushing the car beyond its capabilities. Slowing down to potter though another village, it occurs to me that not only were those journalists right, but that I too, am quite smitten with this car.

Ford has always been a global manufacturer, selling high volume, cost engineered vehicles to the mass market. Having held such a large share of the market for so long, it is easy to become snobbish about the brand, allowing familiarity to breed contempt. The truth is that Ford Europe has been producing great small family cars for as long as it has existed. Cars that don't have to be expensive, thirsty, performance models to be entertaining to drive. This Focus of Suzanne's has reminded me that motoring doesn't have to about prestige, power, and performance, it can be about a well balanced mix of components that work together to deliver a truly enjoyable experience and a great all round package.

Thanks to Suzanne for the loan of her car.
ⓒ Dan Ewing 2012

Hannah's 1999 Rover Mini 1.3i

The rain pours down on me and my fellow commuters as we thread our way over the Tyne Bridge, around the Central Motorway, and onto the Coast Road, the Mini's fan heater is fighting a loosing battle to keep even the windscreen clear, let along the side window. The chances of successful de-misting are worsened by the water pouring in through the poorly fitting door seals. By the time the sound of the usual drive-time dross coming from the rear mounted speakers has reached my ears any quality has been subdued. I pull up at another set of red lights behind a nearly new Fiat 500. To their right is a BMW Mini. As I wipe the side window for the hundredth time I spot a few year old VW Beetle Cabriolet in the wing mirror. All three stand at least a foot taller than me and look decidedly big compared to my ride, still redefining what small means over fifty years after it was launched.

The occupants of these retro-mobiles are probably sitting warn and cosy in their well heated, sound deadened, commuter friendly environments. Their seats adjustment a paragon of ergonomics, stereo sound - the last word in fidelity, engine and gearbox noise a muted hum as they cruise away from the now green light. Meanwhile, my right ankle is starting to hurt due to the chronic lack of seat travel, the seat back at a jaunty angle to keep my head from bumping into the roof, which also leaves the airbag equipped steering wheel pointing oddly roof-wards. As I gingerly lift the clutch pedal and try to keep up with that nippy 500 without spinning the skinny front tyres too much, that typical A Series whining noise pours into the cabin and all the discomfort fades away. Its hard not to look down on these interlopers with distain, figuratively speaking at least.

If like me, you are in your thirties then you probably have at least one memory of riding crammed three abreast into the back of a tatty old Mini that belonged to a friend or family member, and yet still we remember them with such fondness and longing. Its a lovely spec this car, the metallic green paint is more thorn than british racing green, the 12” alloy wheels are variation on an 80's pepper-pot style with smaller wheel arches than the run-out spec Cooper model had over their fat 13” wheels. Even with black plastic trim replacing many of the old chrome items on the outside and the twee looking wooded dash and cream leather and tweed seats, this car still retains so much more of that old charm than the modern recreations ever will.

This car was purchased new by Hannah's parents as a runaround for her Mum from their local dealer. The Livock & Edwards dealer sticker and tax disc holder still adorn the front and rear screen some 36000 miles later. The low mileage and light interior wear are a testament to the love and affection this car has received over the years. The four digit Liverpool licence plate (that had adorned the car until recently was on Hannah's Granny's Morris Minor convertible) just added to the old skool charm. Its no pristine show pony though, various trips to Liverpool Football Club and the Tynemouth salt air have taken their invertible toll. The former leaving unexplained dents in the roof, the latter leaving rust that has overcome the drivers side A panel, the panels beneath both headlamps, and is showing its presence in one or two other places. Minor repairs have been carried out on both sills, and the door skins have been replaced (hence the poor fitting door seals).

When Hannah first acquired Doris from her mother back in 2008 it could regularly be seen parked on Front Street or pootling around the local area with Han and her two eldest kids onboard. Local Mini club members were pleased to see a classic Mini with child seats in the back. The addition of another bundle of joy made the four seater Mini slightly less practical as family transport and after a few years of lighter use it seems the old girl may have to move on to pastures new before too much longer.

Which is a crying shame, coz I just love going out for a spin in this little thing. Flawed though it is, the sense of fun and connection with what the car is doing as you bounce and crash your way along a bumpy twisty B road is brilliant. I love the way the steering lightens and communicates as you get back onto the throttle at the entrance to a corner, confident of the grip levels as you power through the apex and ring out the last few hundred RPM before snatching another gear to propel you down the road. What the 1275cc multipoint injection engine and four speed box lack in power and refinement they more that make up for in eagerness, noise, and entertainment. It's not quick by any modern standards, most base model Supermini's would match or out pace it with ease, but the way it goes is just enchanting.

By modern standards the classic Mini is cramped, poorly equipped, noisy, impractical, and somewhat unsafe for most users to tolerate as their sole daily transport. Some may also question the validity of these later examples claim to being a true classic, pointing to the earlier examples for the true experience. But with prices of even the base model early cars starting to rise to match those of the always popular Coopers, I think it unfair to view these later cars so harshly, especially as they will provide most of the charm with less of the headaches that the early cars will present.

I wish I had the money to buy and run it as my second car. Not my only car mind. I'd get bored of the fiddly door lock, banging my head on the door frame every time I get, the achy right ankle after half an hours driving, the lack of heat, ventilation, and whether proofing, not being able to cruise down the motorway in any comfort, or transport anything bigger than about three foot square, all too often for daily use. But if you just need to pop to the shops, nip to a mates house, or just go for a good old fashions blast, then its just great. I think I can get away with one last drive before I drop the keys back, now where did I put that Italian Job soundtrack.

Thanks to Hannah for the loan of her car.

ⓒ Dan Ewing 2012

My 1996 Saab 900 SE Turbo

The barrier rises and I wind my along the exit ramp of the Newcastle Central Station Long Stay Car Park on a chilly June evening. As I edge out of the side road into the traffic on Neville Street, I overhear a passing reveller comment to his companions “I've always wanted one of those”. “Me too” I smile to myself as I pick my way through the madness that is Newcastle Upon Tyne city centre on a lively Saturday night. Unlike most all of the cars I hope to write about in the future, I actually own this one and have done since May 2010. I needed a car that I could use to get around in and take the odd long journey to visit family. This 3 door Saab had a big boot, was comfortable, went like stink thanks to its 185bhp engine, and at £900 with some semblance of a service history, it seemed to be quite a bargain.

The new gen 900 inherits some quirky good looks from the classic Saab 900. The upsweep of the rear pillars, the steep angle of the front screen, the way the indicators cut into the wings, the cliff face dash, and the slim front seats with the wrap around headrest all make for an unique looking car. The overall look is quite discrete, thanks in part to the black paint and family hatch shape. The lack of attention this car normally gets took a little getting use to after previously having two rather conspicuous cars (a Peugeot 205 GTi and a Porsche 944 Lux), although I'm quite happy to slip home unnoticed after a long days work.

Picking my way through the jostling taxis and their drunken clients the steering is never very communicative but it normally seems accurate enough and is reasonably well weighted. Cruising down the A1058 the slight lack of body control can be felt over the bigger undulations. The drivers seat is a very comfortable place to be, that slab-faced centre console is well organised with large buttoned that are easy to identify and use. The dials and buttons are all labelled with a simple font that glows green at night, with the dash gauge needles and centre console display panels glowing in a gentle orange. Even though the steering wheel only adjusts for reach, a good driving position can be found, and the prospect of driving for hours is un-daunting.

There are some unusual features in amongst all the gear, some clever, some plain odd. The cleverer ones include a single button press that de-mists the whole car including the rear screen, and a stereo that turns itself up and down as the road noise varies. Not very special in 2012 but quite good for 900 quid. The odd ones include the infamous 'Black Panel' button that kills all interior illumination except for the speedo and any warning notifications. Useful as you're approach the Arctic Circle maybe, but not so much on the Billy Mill Roundabout. Also, some of the on-board computer functions are a little weird like the alarm clock (in a car?), or the one that allows you to enter a mileage (the distance to your destination say) and your hoped for average speed, and it will calculate an estimated arrival time for you, somewhat outdated in this age of Sat Nav.

Away from late night commuter duties, out on a quiet B road, a few more weaknesses start to show themselves. The heavy nose makes the front end wash out in corners a little earlier than you'd expect. Keeping your foot in or lifting off both seem to result in the same amount of tail movement. Hard acceleration reveals a tendency to spin up the front wheels. The fact that these antics are worse in the wet and can be set off by the slightest change in road surface make me wonder how much the cheap budget tyres are to blame. Maybe better tyres would help improve things, but basically the new gen 900 was always a little flawed.

Not that I don't enjoy threading this car along the Beehive. As the revs reach 3000 RPM the turbo spools up and suddenly its time to brake for that corner which has suddenly gotten really close. Slow down a little more than seems reasonable for that corner and the car turns into the apex well enough, at which point you can gently feed in the power, the turbo spooling back up and the whole shebang starts again. The slight lack of body control doesn't hinder too much and the comfortable ride helps on bumpy road surfaces. You might have to constantly adjust your line the torque steer and manage the throttle inputs carefully, but rapid cross country progress is there for the taking.

A contemporary BMW 318iS Coupe might be a dynamic masterpiece in comparison, but it wouldn't have the space or pace of my Svart. And I'd probably have to pay at least twice as much for a 328i Touring that would match it for practically and performance. Some cars leave you feeling that you could get more out of them, if you just had a little more skill, a little more knowledge, but this Saab isn't one of them. There's something oddly comforting about running a car that isn't perfect, that isn't a mechanical tour de force. It should feel like a bad thing, but its doesn't, you end up feeling like you and the car can work together around your combined weaknesses to achieve results that you can feel some ownership in. So my car is flawed, quirky and practical, not perfect, but not hopeless – a bit like me then.

ⓒ Dan Ewing 2012