Thoughts: My
Swedish Blonde,
by Richard Clark
There
I was first in the queue at Gothenburg
Docks with some mad Swede jabbering
away at me like the chef on the Muppet
Show, waving me onto the North Sea
Ferry. Didn�t he realise I had no
idea where to go or what he was
saying. Still I suppose sitting in a
left hand drive, Swedish plated Saab
he must have thought I was a native
and not a mad Englishman driving his
newly purchased dream blonde home.
But
I�m in danger of telling the tale
from the wrong end. Why on earth did I
want an old Saab and what events had
taken place to get me to this final
part of the journey.
It
started years ago; my Father was a
graphic artist and had been
responsible for the design of a few
car badges (the script �one point
five� badge on the early 60�s
Riley was from his fair hand). His
advertising Agency was involved in
putting Saab on the map here in the
UK. We had a Mini at the time � Dad
did a bit of rallying and Auto tests
and I had been mad about Motor Sport
more or less from birth.
One
night he turned up at home with the
most shapely car I had ever seen, a
mid blue 96 2 stroke (9985HX)
which was one of the press cars in the
UK at the time. I remember it clearly,
although it was dark outside, the car
sitting under a street lamp. The boot
was big enough for me to climb in and
lie down (much more fun than the mini)
and when Dad started the engine I was
hooked, such a sweet note �
different from any small road car I
had known, but remenicsent of all the
wonderful straight sixes I drooled
over at Goodwood and Crystal Palace,
Maserati 250F�s Ferrari 250 SWB,
Aston Martins and 3.8 MkII Coombes
Jags.
Over
a weekend and the following week we
took photos of the car all over South
London, notably in Richmond Park down
by Penn Ponds. The high spot of that
time for me was a trip to Brands Hatch
where Eric Carlson gave the Minis
(buzz bombs) a good thrashing, the 96
cocking it�s inside wheel in the air
as he went full bore through Paddock
Bend and up Druids Hill. I met Eric
and Co later in the pressroom.
Of such things dreams are made.
Well
that was it � the car had to be
given back and we went back to Minis,
Morris 1100�s and Ford Cortinas and
other mundane stuff. The Saab made a
significant impact on me yet it took a
full 30 years to come full circle when
I would own my own.
There
was one brief interlude when a friend
of my elder brother turned up at our
house from University with a Shortnose
� it must have been around �69 or
�70 just before I got my Drivers
License � the memories of 7-8 years
previous came flooding back and I knew
one day I�d have to have one.
My
misspent youth and early twenties had
me roaring about in Hairy Anglias with
big 1650 pushrod and V4 2000 engines
shoehorned under the bonnet. I even
helped one friend fit an Essex 3 litre
V6 into an Anglia. It went like a
rocket until you got to the corners
when it went straight on with major
understeer due to the weight up front
Sanity and the start of my family
brought a boring Morris Marina but I
managed to do some Autocross and
Circuit work with the Anglia before it
finally had to go. However every time
I saw a Saab 96 I had to follow it for
a while, my wife luckily understood my
obsession.
I
first went seriously looking 12 years
ago, scanning the Classic Car
magazines, adverts for Shortnoses were
rare, I saw a dark blue basket case in
South East London, too far gone for
me, all the suspension pick up points
plated, holes everywhere, I drove to
Southend to look at a car described as
a �64 which turned out to be a
Longnose �65. Real cars - but
not for me.
Inevitably
the family and job took over. I joined
Volvo Car UK and moved out into the
country as an Area Service Manager,
bought a Mini Cooper and sold it on
with no regrets. I was
promoted into Volvo Head office at
Marlow, only two buildings away from
Saab GB, a friend of mine new of my
interest in 96�s and told me that
he�d seen a Carlson Replica rally
car outside the Saab Building.
Grasping the nettle I walked into the
Saab reception one lunchtime and asked
to see the man with the 2 stroke Saab.
Chris Partington came out to meet me
and we discovered our jobs for our
respective Swedish car manufacturers
were almost identical. We had
lunch another time, chatted about
business, but mostly about old Saabs
and he showed me over his rally car,
as a parting shot I asked him to let
me know if he ever heard of a
shortnose for sale anywhere.
All
went quiet again and then a call from
Chris � would I be interested in a
Swedish car? � described as being
very original with a good interior �
was I interested? I nearly
flipped. Chris said he would try
and get some further details, they
came as a copy registration doc and
three photos showing a nice Polar
White Shortnose, was I interested �
Oh yes indeed. My Swedish Blonde was
becoming a possibility, would she live
up to my dreams?
It
took a lot of organising � some
great telephone calls to Ingmar, the
owner in Sweden timing things to
coincide with a business trip to Volvo
in Gothenburg. Finally the
flight to Sweden, Insurance and Green
Card organised (�just in case I
bought her!�) traveller�s cheques,
-lots of traveller�s cheques - a
ferry booking from Gothenburg to
Harwich sailing on Saturday night
taking 23 hrs to cross the North Sea.
Conversations with Customs and Excise
on what to do on return. Everything
that could be done was done.
My
week�s business in the Volvo Plant
at Torslanda was a great success and
my host left me at my hotel at 4.30pm
on Friday afternoon. I have never
known time to pass so slowly. I phoned
Ingmar to see if everything was ok, he
was trailering the car from Koping
half way to Stockholm using a friends
trailer. He had one problem the
battery was u/s and they couldn�t
get a correct replacement, the small
Italian style terminals had to be
modified and he would get to
Gothenburg docks as some time Saturday
afternoon. Then the next problem, the
car had hardly run over the last 3 or
4 years, he knew I was planning to
drive across England and was concerned
about reliability so a test drive
before purchase might be a
problem��� I said I�d push it
home if I had to. Then the next
bombshell, driving with no tax is a
serious offence in Sweden, I would
have to take the risks myself.
Finally it would be too difficult to
drive into downtown Gothenburg and
collect me from the Hotel as planned I
would have to meet in the docks at the
ferry terminal.
So
I phoned my Volvo host, yes, he was
free on Saturday afternoon. If I stood
him lunch he would get the mad
Englishman to the Ferry Terminal, by
the way did I know he had served his
apprenticeship at Saab on strokers.
Yes, he would help me through the road
test, yes, he would help with the
purchase, he would wave goodbye to the
boat with a handkerchief in his hand
if required. The Swedish race
may be considered reserved or even
dull, (I never thought so, they sing
just the same as the rest of us after
a few aqua-vits) but ask them for help
and they respond admirably.
The
final drive into the port was
wonderful � rounding the bend to the
terminal my Swedish Blonde off the
trailer and ready for anything.
She fired up instantly and I drove
round the docks, dodging the
tramlines,
using all the service roads, no police
in sight. All the planning finally
coming to fruition. We haggled about
the price over a beer (only one as
it�s �4.50 per half litre in
Sweden) A few problems pointed out on
the car get the price just right �
we shake hands transfer documents and
receipts and wave goodbye. Profuse
thanks to my host and another
farewell.
Well
it was all downhill now. I�m first
in the queue with still two hours to
wait, my boarding pass in the window
of my Saab says �Commodore Class�
whatever that is. And now
we�re where we started with that
Swedish Chef character frantically
waving at me. Commodore class is first
class, first in the queue, first on
the boat. Well here goes, fire
her up, blue smoke every where, up the
ramp into the stern, up to the bow and
back towards the stern, lots of
admiring looks from the other
passengers. I stayed with my new
Blonde to ensure no one dragged any
bags across the paintwork.
Finally up to my cabin for the 23 hour
trip. There�s absolutely
nothing to do on the boat apart from
eat and drink and look out at the grey
sea � how people enjoy cruises I
shall never understand. The Swedish
food is first class so a few calories
are taken on during the trip.
It�s
dark when we get to England � a
final check round the cabin � down
to the car guarding the bodywork again
� more admiring looks and
questions. Yes, I have brought
her to England, yes, I love old Saabs,
doesn�t everyone in Sweden? It
appears they do.
Then
down the ramp, keeping her running.
It�s the fifth or sixth startup with
little or no running in between, hope
the new battery holds out. Into
the Customs Hall, declaring the
Import, getting the necessary
documents or you can�t get an
English registration. Paying the TAX
!!!!! Finally at about 8.30 pm
on a cold November night in damp old
England I am nursing my Swedish Blonde
down the A12 experiencing for the
first time in a long time how
horrendous crossply tyres are. Noisy,
multi-directional, weaving in and out
of the depressions left in the road by
the masses of 32 tonners which use the
A12 from London to Harwich and back.
This
dream is really happening, the car is
running beautifully for the first time
in quite a few years. Some of the
modern manufacturers could learn a bit
about reliability.
Finally
after a couple of hundred miles I�m
cuddling my English Brunette with my
Swedish Blonde tucked up in the
garage, ready for anything.
That
was November 1991, nearly ten years
ago, both the Blonde and the Brunette
are wearing well, I�m not saying
which gives me more pleasure
