A Drive To Work In Two Very Different Sport Sedans

"tylinol" (tylinol1975) 08/28/2015 at 10:49 • Filed to: None

11

14

Today marks nearly two months since I purchased my 1996 Saab 9000 Aero, and four years (!) since taking ownership of my 1987 Alfa Romeo Milano Platinum. To commemorate this anniversary, I’ve decided to write a comparison review using both cars on my daily commute to work. But how do I decide which one to drive first?

Full Disclosure: I daily drive an old Saab and an even older Alfa. Everything you read henceforth should be regarded as the ravings of a lunatic.

I flip a coin. Tails, so Saab it is. I grab the key and head out to my driveway. The Saab is a Giugiaro design, and true to form he has penned a shape that is elegant and understated, lacking the sensuous curves of a classic sports car or the desperate machismo of its modern counterpart. The car has very few details; there are no extraneous vents or “character lines” to be found here and, particularly in black, it’s a bit reminiscent of an SR-71 Blackbird. It is not exciting or aggressive, but it is very pleasing. My car is an Aero, which is the top-spec model - think Saab’s idea of an M5 or E55 AMG - and it comes with a special body kit that actually removes some of the few fussy details of the lower-spec cars. A Stealth bomber indeed.

I open the door. It’s a decently solid piece, heftier than most Japanese cars but not quite a Mercedes bank vault. I step inside; this is where the extra time and/or money spent on finding an Aero pays off. The Saab is bar none the most comfortable car I have ever sat in (including an S55 AMG). The ergonomics are perfect and the overall effect of the black leather and dark woodgrain is incredibly luxurious in an understated Swedish way. The seats in particular are marvelous; I could go on for paragraphs about them but I’ll sum it up like this: After a 14 hour drive in the Saab I get out feeling better than when I started. 15 minutes in a Subaru BRZ had me begging to be strapped to the roof. There are other pleasant details, too, from the little airplane-style reading light to the wonderful padded door armrests, everything is made out of high-quality material even where you would never normally feel them. As a result, 170,000 miles on the clock and I don’t have a single squeak or rattle. Being in the Saab just feels good.

I turn the key and fire up the whisper-quiet 2.3 turbo. The A/C, which is managed by an automatic climate control system, kicks on until the car reaches my preferred 72 degrees. I plug my phone into the aftermarket radio and put on some music. The Saab had an amazing audio system for its time: a 10-speaker Harmon Kardon unit with an external amp. Mine was replaced by a quartet of two-way speakers, and it sounds about as good as most new cars.

I live right off of a fairly busy road, so the Saab’s immense low-end torque is definitely appreciated. There is never an instant push or shove, because the turbo needs a split second to gather its breath. But unlike many turbocharged cars, a split second is all it takes. Peak torque comes in at less than 1900RPM, and with 250ft/lbs. huge acceleration is available anywhere, any time. Into second, then third. The throws are medium-length and comparable to most FWD sport compacts of the era. The clutch is actually pretty heavy and engages just a little bit off the floor and with a short travel, but it’s still decently progressive.

Now I’m going 45mph, and it’s time for Pothole Patrol. Remember how I said that the Saab was the most comfortable car I had ever sat in? That’s because once you start moving, things go downhill fast. The ride quality on the Saab is terrible. Small bumps hop the car around, and real road imperfections make me feel as if the entire suspension is going to explode through the top of the fenders. The seats dampen all of this drama to a degree, but the ride quality was so out of character with the rest of the car that I was concerned something was broken on my Aero. Discussions on Saab forums indicate that this is just how the Aero is; the 9000 has a basic McPherson strut layout, much like any economy car from the era, and making the Aero handle competently necessitated firming the suspension up within an inch of its life.

Getting up to freeway speeds for the three miles of I65 is a breeze. Even cruising at 65mph, the tall gearing means that I’m turning over at a mere 2000 rpm, yet I still have enough torque to pass quickly in 5th. The freeway is where the Saab really shines. Soon after my exit I’m at the last turn before work, and it’s my favorite part of the drive: a second gear 90-degree left hand curve followed by a 1/4 mile four-lane straight down an empty industrial park. I meander through the curve - corners are not that much fun in a 9000 - and floor it in second gear. 2000 RPM. One...two...BOOST! A/C off and windows down so I can hear the faint turbo noises. I’m pushed back in my seat, the speedometer sweeping effortlessly upward, but there’s almost no torque steer to speak of; the Saab’s steering rack is bolted to the subframe rather than the firewall. I make it about half way through third before I hit the brakes to slow down. They do their job, but don’t really merit any more words beyond “good”. I take a couple minutes to let the turbo spool down; they’re water-cooled but I figure the ritual can’t hurt.

The next day it’s the Alfa’s turn. Its body is an in-house design, although it takes a lot of inspiration from Giugiaro’s earlier work such as the VW Golf. It’s all 80’s angles and boxes and creases, and could go unnoticed in a sea of its contemporaries were it not for the controversial “kink” at the back. This is a love it or hate it thing, and most people seem to hate it. Ownership has caused the whole design to grow on me quite a bit, so for what it’s worth I appreciate the effort Alfa made to make the Milano stand out from the 80’s sports sedan pack and the somewhat more aggressive stance the raised-up rear gives it. I also find the Alfa’s Speedline wheels much more attractive than the Saab’s Super Aeros. Ultimately, however, the vast majority of your friends will mistake both for a Volvo 740 no matter how many times you correct them.

I open the door on the Alfa and am greeted with a flimsy creaking. It’s clear that luxury was not a design priority here. The seat backs are incredibly thin and, while decently bolstered, will make you feel like you have your back against a large hardcover book. My driver’s seat has softened up a bit from use (or more accurately from near complete destruction), but I pity any passenger foolish enough to call shotgun. I turn the key and the rear window starts rolling down - an unintended consequence of placing the switch directly where your arm naturally rests. My arms are almost straight out holding the wheel. My knees are bent and the pedals have my whole body tilted slightly towards the center of the car. I reach above my head and hit the switch to lower the front window. While the A/C works, the fans have a habit of lighting the car on fire and I’m taking no chances. The radio broke long ago, but it’s not needed - a few seconds of cranking and the 2.5 V6 responds with the only music you need. Seriously, a lot has been written about how good this engine sounds, but I’ll sum it up like this: Not as good as an open-pipe Ferrari V12, but better than a factory-piped Ferrari V8. It’s divine, and it makes all of the ergonomic atrocities vanish in an alarming cloud of blue smoke.

I ease it into reverse and let the clutch out. It’s a bit lighter than the Saab and with a very long travel that engages almost at the top. Into first carefully, gently up to 2500RPM, and very, very slowly into second, with a pause in neutral. The Alfa doesn’t like being cold; every part of the car is all but unwilling to cooperate with your inputs for the first fifteen minutes. Merging onto my main road requires careful planning, but soon all is warm and ready for a thrashing. Well, all but the transaxle, that is. The Alfa’s transaxle was panned when it was released, and 30 years of wear and tear haven’t helped the matter. There is no click or snick or any other tactile feedback to indicate when I’ve successfully moved up a gear; I just sort of move it roughly where it seems it should go and hope for the best.

Now I’m holding out till 3500 or 4000 before shifting up, and double-clutching down at every opportunity. I skip the freeway and opt for some back roads that include a brief but glorious tunnel where I let the V6 really sing. Onlookers toss confused glances in my direction - surely that noise isn’t coming from the Volvo over there? The ride is firm. Not uncomfortable like the Saab, but communicative. The steering, in particular, is a masterpiece and by far the best power steering system I’ve ever felt. The front wheels feel like an extension of your own hands, as if you’ve put on a pair of gloves and are running your fingers over the road. Turning is heavy but precise and direct. Driving almost any other car after the Alfa will make you feel like you are steering with a video game controller.

With 155HP on tap and 2800lbs to push around, it is not a fast car in a straight line. From a stop it is occasionally a challenge to keep up with modern traffic when the Altima next to me absent-mindedly sprints to 60 faster than an 80’s Ferrari on race day. Once underway and at higher RPM, however, I can fight my way to the front of the pack and eventually make it to that treasured Last Turn Before Work.

Unlike the Saab, I take the Alfa all-in for the left-hander, trusting the considerable grip of the Toyo Proxes R1Rs. Any attempts to step out of line are dialed back with the help of a little more throttle and the Alfa’s 50/50 weight distribution; I run out of courage long before it runs out of capability. I exit the corner near the top of second gear and blast down the straight at the top of third, the V6 echoing its frenzied howl off the Porsche shop next door. Pushed back in my seat I am not, but my much greater corner exit speed means that I reach my braking point at the same velocity as yesterday’s point-and-shoot run in the Saab. I let off the gas to hear the engine pop and burble, then - with quite a bit more braking effort than yesterday - come to a smooth stop in the office parking lot.

Two days on the same road in two cars that are both “European Sports Sedans.” Despite being broadly the same genre of car and occupying the same position in the market, they could hardly be more different. However, both have one very important thing in common: I take ten steps away, look back, and start counting the hours until I can go for another drive.

facw > tylinol 08/28/2015 at 11:14

2

Good to see you got a true Italian car and not some properly galvanized knockoff.

Rb88 > tylinol 08/28/2015 at 11:18

2

You just won my heart with this post. No one can ever understand a Saab until they drive one. Never had the pleasure of a Milano but I dig the styling. Love my 03 arc that I've dumped too much money in to make it the badass sleeper it is and my fiancé grimaces when I remind her my next car is a 9000 aero!

JGrabowMSt > tylinol 08/28/2015 at 11:20

4

Yep, it’s Italian. No doubt left in my mind.

DrScientist > tylinol 08/28/2015 at 11:26

0

you never mention (i’m pretty sure) how long your commute is, or how much of it is highway vs surface street, country road, or stoplight fettered suburban sprawl.

tylinol > DrScientist 08/28/2015 at 11:45

1

It’s about 15 miles. It starts off fir the first three miles as stoplight urban driving, then I have a choice of ten miles of freeway or ten miles of country road. Then there’s another 2 mile stretch of urban stoplight drudgery.

tylinol > facw 08/28/2015 at 11:46

1

It’s strange, this is the only rust on the car but it’s TERRIBLE. The rest of the underside looks pristine.

Hiroku > tylinol 08/28/2015 at 12:01

1

Great review, I’ve been waiting for this for a while.

The Saab looks a hell of a lot like my 850 on numbers alone (same power, weight, displacement, general dimensions, etc.) and it’s obvious by your review that they also feel very similar to drive. The comfortable seats, the harsh suspension, the black interior with the wood accents, even the way you describe flooring it in second and enjoying the turbo noises and effortless acceleration are all features which define my Volvo. Must be a Swedish thing.

I was very surprised about your mention of a lack of torque-steer, though. I’ve always heard the FWD Turbo Saabs of this vintage were absolute torque-steering monsters, and even my 850, with a dab less torque going to the front wheels, feels like it’s actively trying to rip the steering wheel out of my hands once the Turbo is at full sing. Interesting.

Nice write up!

Michael Woyahn > tylinol 08/28/2015 at 12:04

1

This was a fantastic read. Nice job! I also commend you on your choice of cars! They’re both beautiful.

tylinol > Hiroku 08/28/2015 at 12:11

0

Thanks! I’ve driven a couple other Saabs as well, so I too was surprised. The older C900 definitely have it in spades, as do the NG900 and 9-3. My understanding is that this is because the other cars bolt the steering rack to the firewall, which is a lot more flexible than the subframe. One of the reasons I held out for a 9000!

BiTurbo228 - Dr Frankenstein of Spitfires > tylinol 08/28/2015 at 15:54

0

Dude :) fantastic review, and kudos for owning two fantastic cars.

I’d love to do a similar thing with my fleet, a back-to-back comparison with two cars day-by-day, but ever since I’ve owned more than one car there’s only ever been one on the road at any one time :S

I can back up your claims about the Alfa V6. I recently started my 156 V6 up the other day after a long period of dormancy. It’s taken a back seat while I DD’d my 4.0 XJ6, and later my NA diesel Citroen BX. But after the latter’s water pump decided it needed to pump the water out of the engine rather than around it (bang on 180k miles so I’m counting it as needing a service rather than having broken down), I’ve pulled out all the stops to get the old beast back on the road again (meaning the mother of all alternator changes, wedged inbetween the back bank of the V6, the firewall and the subframe).

First time I flicked it on I couldn’t help but sit there beaming. Mine’s got a cheapo aftermarket stainless exhaust which probably does nothing for flow but by god does it sound good :)

Oh, if you ever get the opportunity to unhook the exhaust and go for a spin I thoroughly recommend it. Mine sounded like this when the bolts holding the cat to the rest of the exhaust decided they’d seek other job opportunities:

tylinol > BiTurbo228 - Dr Frankenstein of Spitfires 08/28/2015 at 16:44

1

I once had the center and rear exhaust off after installing Guibos and went for a test drive before re-fitting it. The noise was otherwordly, but the exhaust coming into the cabin was not so pleasant!

RallyDarkstrike - Fan of 2-cyl FIATs, Eastern Bloc & Kei cars > tylinol 08/28/2015 at 17:45

1

Amazing post! The more I see these old Milanos, the more they grow on me. Who needs a radio anyway! ;)

Hiroku > tylinol 08/28/2015 at 17:58

0

That’s some interesting information. I am pretty sure my 850’s rack mounts to the subframe, but that doesn’t seem to help much with the torque steering!

Amoore100 > tylinol 11/29/2015 at 23:55

0

Wow. That was beautiful. You have now increased my want for both of these infinitely and for that I will love you and hate you forever. On a side note, I also want to go find an old turbo 740, but that’s another story...