1988 Saab T16S Notchback – Car & Classic Fleet

It began, as these things sometimes do, around the back of a rundown garage. One of the many grotty, mud and weed-strewn wastelands where cars and projects go to die. In this case, in Penzance. That’s where I found my 1988 Saab T16S. It was 2013 and I bought it on a whim, sight unseen. Back then, I did things like that quite a lot. I justified it – sort of – by running a classic car workshop business. I had owned several 900s before and at the time was smoking around in a decent 900 T16 three-door as a sort of daily driver. So I didn’t need it.

Except, of course, I did. Because this car was one of the 262 ‘notchback’ two-door saloons built by Saab for the UK market with the ‘Aero’ body kit and 16V full-pressure turbo engine. These cars were built to use up the final run of two-door shells. If you’re not a Saab fan – and even if you are – that may not mean much to you. But it does to me and I had always wanted one. I like these cars because they preserve the rear styling of the original 99, and they have stiffer shells than the hatchback. So they drive better. And they’re rare, which always helps.

Given all that, you may be surprised that it was only £650. For that, there were two reasons. Firstly, nobody really wants the two-door. Either they don’t know it exists or most consider it ugly compared to the three-door. And secondly, this one wasn’t in the finest of fettle. It was the sort of car that appeared to be weeping – big fat rust-stained tears.

But it was drivable. I put it into storage whilst I decided what to do with it. It was solid but scruffy, the white paint offering a sort of chalky finish that likely wasn’t factory standard. The interior was ok, apart from the checkerboard trim someone had decided to apply to the doors and rear shelf. It was also ridiculously quick, far quicker than any Saab T16S I’d ever driven before. It could spin the wheels in fourth. This was quite alarming, turning any overtake into an all-or-nothing tarmac dance. It would eschew straight-line progress in favour of a more hedge-orientated direction. I owe the fact that I’m still alive to a decision early on not to drive it very often.

The car sat around for a few years, occasionally used but little loved as other cars and projects came and went. It limped through annual MOTs like a big white whale on life support. I got rid of my other 900s half-heartedly intending to restore it. I treated it to a leather interior and sorted the drooping headlining. The head gasket blew during a film shoot so I had the engine rebuilt. Then a customer blew that motor up so I fitted a second-hand engine. It was still farcically quick.

Then things stalled. COVID came along. It sat outside my unit and daily I wondered exactly what I was going to do with it. Perhaps I should just sell it. But that wasn’t an option because I love Saabs. I got into them because my dad had one. He hated it, mainly because it broke down a lot. I remember it breaking down, but somehow it didn’t put me off so in 2022 I decided to do something about it. I sent it to a specialist in Nuneaton for assessment, the aim being to get an MOT and drive it ‘as is’ whilst pondering a more comprehensive restoration.

Things, as is often the case, did not go to plan. What began as a fairly straightforward welding job turned into a full-body restoration. Then, since the suspension and running gear were knackered and not really worth putting back on the car, they got done too. The replacement engine I’d bought, which hadn’t really run for years, proved to be knackered. A replacement unit was sourced and fully rebuilt. Thankfully we ditched the lairy intercooler and replaced the dialled up ECU with a regular unit. Hedges, fellow road users and my family can breath a sigh of relief.

It wasn’t worth refitting the old gearbox without also refurbishing it, so that was done too. With the motor out, the complicated metalwork of the engine bay was fully revealed and showed that it also needed attention. I found this process both stressful and frustrating. I began to dread the email updates and invoices from the restorer. For some reason they always arrived on Sunday mornings. I’m sure those are feelings faced by many classic car enthusiasts undergoing the sometimes nail-biting process of restoring an old car, Saab T16S or otherwise.

Such is the nature of classic car restoration that it is often very difficult to assess the full cost of the work until you’re into the work. At which point you’re in the realms of sunk cost. It’s like being lost in a wilderness and being unclear whether to go forwards or backwards. Having run a car restoration business before, I probably had expectations of how the project would be managed. But equally, I could have managed it better too. Working at a distance and being distracted by other life events didn’t help my focus. But that’s hindsight. I only realised the full extent of the work when I was already into the project.

With any major car restoration, it doesn’t take long before you’ve chucked more into the rebuild than the car is worth. The pernicious issue is that each step forward is often incremental rather than major, meaning you rack up costs without fully appreciating it. Or you agree on a cost that then escalates as the whole process evolves due to unforeseen problems. I dealt with all of these issues. I chose to plough on until I chose not to. My ‘lesson learned’ from all this is to expect the worst, budget for it and keep in regular contact with the repairer. Continuously review and sense-check the project.

All this work, as you can probably imagine, took many hours and many, many pounds. By the time it was complete in Spring 2024 I was mentally exhausted from the barrage of photos, email updates and bank transfers. I wanted my stress-free Sunday mornings back so a line, finally, was drawn. To proceed, the next stage would be a full repaint. But faced with family illness, I decided to call time and decide what to do next.

And that is where the Saab T16S is now. I’m planning a repaint in 2025 and then an interior retrim. Fortunately these stages should be more straightforward than the previous work, with fewer unexpected price bumps. But I have to admit, after my prior experience, I’m putting off starting.

Yet I’m really looking forward to getting my Saab T16S back on the road. A good 900 is a thing of joy, a distinctive classic with sharp and direct steering, tactile handling and of course the whoosh of that slant four turbo. For a 36 year old classic, my 900 holds the prospect of being a comfortable and decent regular steer too. Watch this space.