Saab Stories of Kool-Aid Consumption

I was once the caretaker and pilot of a 1986 Saab 900 Turbo.  With the well publicized demise of Saab and the subsequent reminiscences by the motoring press and in the blogosphere, my fond memories of that funky gray Swede came flooding back to me.  It was the last car to carry our family tradition of being named.  I affectionately dubbed it Astro, after the goofy gray dog from the Jetsons.  The styling was unique, in an elegant gray with rich tan leather, enhanced with a set of SPG wheels.  With Tardis-esque interior capacity and very comfortable seats, it was always a willing travel partner, be it road trips or evenings out with friends.  I have no doubt that I would find it equally as appealing today as I did all those years ago.

I also remember driving a comparable BMW of that same vintage, a 318is.  I was disappointed in the Bimmer then, and given the choice between them now, I'd be hard pressed not to pick the Saab again.  And that said from the former owner of an E30 M3, so don't misunderstand me, I like BMW.  A 325i still graces our family garage.  But when I see base model 3er's on the road, or C-Class Mercedes for that matter, I can only wonder if the average buyer selects these cars more for the badge than the capabilities or qualities of these cars.  When oil was still pumping through Saab's veins, it was the choice of the "thinking" man or woman who valued the design and (over)engineering above badge recognition and image.  Saab was the Anti-Bimmer, if you will.  Well-engineered to a fault, rewarding to drive, and attractive in a form-follows-function sort of way, it worked just as a well as a BMW, but without the yuppie stigmas that grew around the roundel.

As I thought about this comparison more and more, I saw a correlation with a modern rivalry in a higher-stakes competition.  In this battle royale, we have another over-engineered entrant, this time from England rather than Sweden, and the defending champ from Italy rather than Bavaria.  Both have pedigrees in racing, much as Saab and BMW both came from origins in aircraft.  From the Continent comes a badge that has taken on a life of its own, with boutiques the world over selling, not cars, but branded merchandise.  From across the Channel a badge backed by ludicrous attention to detail, but without its own special edition Barbie doll.

It is no surprise that almost every article one reads or video one views regarding the McLaren MP4-12C compares it to a Ferrari 458 Italia.  By all accounts, the 458 is a phenomenal car, brimming with excitement and bristling with power.  On paper, though, the McLaren trumps it in all the important categories.  Track testing results are so close as to be irrelevant to all but the geeks in the comments sections of the average blog.  But it seems the majority of reviewers prefer the Ferrari, citing its ability to give them "the fizz."  The styling of the two cars draws similar comparisons, with the Italian's more flamboyant shapes beholden as more exciting and more appropriate to a supercar.

What the hell?  Are there so few "thinking" man auto journalists that can appreciate the beauty of the engineering and attention to detail in the McLaren to look beyond the Rosso-tinted glasses that are issued with every Ferrari?  It is at this point that I will admit to armchair racing and admit I have driven neither the McLaren MP4-12C nor the Ferrari 458 Italia, but I have had a good deal of seat time in various Ferraris, including a variety of 360's, 355's, and even an F40.  I have been passenger on track in an Enzo and a 360 Challenge as well.  All were impressive cars, but all were terribly flawed.  Once upon a teenage boy's dreams, these were the cars of fantasy.  Today, aside from a Testarossa or an F40, there isn't a modern Ferrari I would want to own.  However, if the lottery ticket sitting on my desk were to have the winning digits printed upon it, there is a strong likelihood that I would head over to my local McLaren retailer and place my order for a MP4-12C.  But I'm guessing that my list of priorities in purchasing an exotic sports car looks quite different from that of the average buyer.

While it is almost a given that the shape of an exotic will draw some attention, it isn't necessary that it causes riots on the street and stalkers attempting to catch it on video while driving down the freeway.  One of the most stressful driving experiences I ever had was driving a Lamborghini Murcielago across town.  It drew so much attention that I was genuinely worried that some excited onlooker woud get too close and cause an accident.  The visibility was crap, and the shear size and width of the thing was just silly.  The McLaren's relatively compact size and elegant but not over-the-top styling will doubtless generate some recognition, but most likely not the Britney Spears crotch shot excitement of other, more showy exotics.

I used to think that a car had to be slightly frightening to provide me a thrill.  I've since learned that the fear I once craved was less thrilling than those moments in which I find the perfect harmony between man and machine.  Those moments when my inputs are perfectly timed and measured with the car's responses.  Attacking a back-road at speed is neither the time nor place for drama.  I don't need to be going sideways with my hair on fire.  I would rather be braking at the perfect moment, clipping the apex, and feeding in just the right amount of power on the exit and feeling the car reacting to my inputs precisely and without drama.  Isn't that the essence of what a sports car, exotic or not, is all about?  From most accounts, this is what the MP4-12C provides in spades. 

Am I the only one?  Am I an exotic car idealist?  Or is something wrong with me that I don't produce Pavlovian salivation at the mere mention of Ferrari?  Maybe my pockets aren't lined with enough cash to make me want the attention drawn by a Ferrari or Lamborghini.  Maybe the McLaren really is fatally flawed.  Or maybe I'm not jaded and all the accounts of Ferrari's pandering to journalists with "ringer" cars are true.  I may never know.  Unless this is indeed a winning lottery ticket sitting on my desk, or Ferrari and McLaren both provide me with cars to test back to back.  I think I have better odds with the lottery.