Saab is still more synonymous with Sweden than full frontal nudity, IKEA meatballs or the midnight sun. The name conjures images of snowbound roads, minimalist design and quiet engineering brilliance. For generations, the company projected an identity rooted not just in automotive innovation but in national pride. That reputation was no accident: it was built as meticulously as the cars themselves, shaped by decades of clever marketing and underpinned by an unusual origin story.
Unlike most carmakers, Saab didn’t begin life making bicycles or sewing machines. Its foundation was sky-high: born in 1937 as Svenska Aeroplan Aktiebolaget, the company was established to build aircraft for the Swedish Air Force. That DNA never left. Even after transitioning to car production in the late 1940s, Saab retained its cockpit sensibility. Interiors echoed fighter jets, wraparound windscreens mirrored those of Boeing airliners and the now-famous “black panel” button – dimming all non-essential dashboard lights at night – was borrowed straight from military aviation.
This wasn’t design for design’s sake. Safety was a core principle. Saab pioneered side-impact protection and was among the first to embrace crumple zones. In frigid Sweden, creature comforts became matters of survival: no automaker ever came close to Saab’s ferocious heaters or best-in-class heated seats.
Performance followed. In 1979, Saab became the first company to launch a mass-market turbocharged car. This wasn’t just a gimmick. It was an engineering breakthrough, one that eventually led Saab onto the rally stages of Europe. The company’s signature turbo whoosh became a defining sound of the era.
But the earliest rally Saabs weren’t high-tech fire-breathers. They were modest, underpowered two-stroke runabouts that resembled aerodynamic jelly moulds more than racing machines. Yet in snow and ice, they thrived – lightweight, nimble, and hard to beat thanks to excellent traction and a low centre of gravity.
One man made those cars famous: Erik Carlsson. Towering and tenacious, “Carlsson på taket” – or ‘Carlsson on the roof’ – became a Swedish folk hero in the 1950s and 1960s, driving Saabs to victory on the RAC Rally and Rallye Mont-Carlo. His aggressive, often airborne driving style brought worldwide attention to a small company from Trollhättan. He grew up near the factory, had friends inside, and with only a modest fence standing between him and spare parts, fate brought him behind the wheel of a Saab.
But rallying changed. As the 1980s ushered in the era of four-wheel drive, Saab’s front wheel-drive cars struggled to compete. The company quietly withdrew from motorsport to focus on road cars. But as their designs grew more eccentric, their market shrank. Saab’s intelligent quirks were increasingly lost on a world that wanted uniformity. Ownership changed hands – from GM to Dutch outfit Spyker – and stability remained elusive. By 2011, the writing was on the wall: Saab declared bankruptcy.
Then came a strange epilogue. Russian financier Vladimir Antonov, a figure as colourful as Saab’s rally history, briefly acquired the company and dreamed of returning it to the stages. He envisioned a new 9-2: a small rally-ready hatchback inspired by the classic 92 that Carlsson had driven decades before. But financial scandal overtook ambition, and the project died before a prototype could surface.
In 2012, Saab’s assets were acquired by National Electric Vehicle Sweden (NEVS), a Chinese-backed group with a bold new mission: to make Saab electric. They planned to relaunch the 9-3 as an EV and modernise the brand for a new era. For a time, it seemed plausible. A few electric prototypes rolled off the line. There was talk of innovation. Then… nothing.
Despite a promising vision, NEVS was plagued by production delays and lack of momentum. By 2023, the historic Trollhättan plant had fallen silent. In 2024, the final chapter arrived: NEVS lost the right to use the Saab name. Saab AB – the aerospace and defence giant that had long ago severed ties with the car division – publicly confirmed it would never re-enter the automotive market.
What remains is not a brand, but a legacy. Saab survives through fan clubs, enthusiast forums and a fiercely loyal global community. Vintage models are lovingly maintained and traded like heirlooms. Erik Carlsson is still revered. But in practical terms, Saab is gone: its factories closed, its trademarks dormant and its future frozen.
Could a resurrection happen? Some dream of a boutique EV startup acquiring the rights and relaunching the brand with a clean-sheet design. Others see Saab’s design philosophy – driver-focused, safety-led, slightly odd – as an influence on next-generation mobility. But the brand itself, as we knew it, is unlikely to return.
Saab’s story is a uniquely Swedish tale: one of restraint, rebellion and quiet brilliance. A final rally comeback might have offered poetic closure. Instead, the book closes with a whisper, not a roar, leaving only the whining ghost of a turbocharger spooling in the cold northern wind.
Author Bio:
Anthony Peacock works as a journalist and is the owner of an international communications agency, all of which has helped take him to more than 80 countries across the world.
Photographs courtesy of Saab
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