An Automotive Journalist Steps Into His Own Story
A recent column in the Swedish daily Dagens Nyheter comes from one of the newspaper’s dedicated automotive writers, Jonas Fröberg, who normally approaches cars through reporting, testing and industry analysis. In this case, however, he turns the lens inward. The setting is not a manufacturer event or a comparison drive, but a visit to his friend M – a committed Saab enthusiast whose garage becomes the stage for both mechanical intervention and personal reflection.
Fröberg arrives not as an observer but as a car owner in distress. His 1979 Saab V4, affectionately named “Babs,” has suffered yet another engine failure. The diagnosis is unavoidable: the engine must come out. What might have been a routine repair narrative instead becomes the catalyst for a broader reckoning. He owns five old Saabs. He cannot properly maintain them himself. Something, eventually, must change.
Five Cars, Five Chapters
The internal debate does not revolve around market value or practicality alone, because each Saab carries its own emotional gravity. There is the cement-gray two-stroke from 1962 with its unmistakably gentle front end, a mid-1980s Saab 900 whose interior scent triggers childhood memories, a black 1990 900 Aero with continental provenance, a later 9-5 Aero that still feels modern by comparison, and the troubled V4 now resting under a garage hoist.
Attempting to decide which cars should leave is described almost as a physical effort. Writing down a name requires resolve rather than logic. Rational thinking suggests that the broken car would be the obvious candidate for sale, yet attachment quietly disrupts that conclusion. The column captures this tension without dramatization, allowing the contradiction to stand on its own.
The Garage as Sanctuary
The visit to M is central to the emotional architecture of the (SAAB) story. In the garage, beneath the steady creak of an engine hoist, the work unfolds with the composure of a surgical procedure. M approaches the task methodically, with the authority of someone who understands each mechanical nuance, while Fröberg assumes the role of assistant, fully aware of his limitations.
This dynamic will be familiar to many Saab owners. Older models, particularly V4-powered cars, often survive not because of institutional support but because of knowledgeable individuals willing to share time and skill. The column subtly acknowledges that community sustains these cars as much as parts and tools do. The garage becomes more than a workspace; it becomes an enclave of shared persistence.
Harmony on the Road
When “Babs” is finally reassembled and pointed toward Stockholm, the drive carries the fragile tension that follows any major repair. Every sound is examined, every vibration questioned, until the car settles at a precise cruising speed and finds its rhythm. That moment of mechanical harmony is presented not as nostalgia but as earned reassurance, the kind of sensory confirmation that experienced Saab drivers recognize immediately.
The reference to freewheel behavior, a trait foreign to most modern cars, quietly anchors the story in distinctly Saab territory without overexplaining it. The car is not merely functioning again; it is returning to its characteristic way of moving through the world.
The Question at the Gas Station
The narrative closes at a fuel stop, where a young passerby asks whether the car is for sale. It is the simplest of questions and the most destabilizing one, because it transforms an internal debate into a public moment. The possibility of selling is no longer abstract; it stands in front of the owner, framed as opportunity rather than obligation.
The column deliberately withholds the answer. Instead, it ends with a smile, leaving readers to infer the decision. That restraint reinforces the central theme: ownership of an old Saab is rarely transactional. It is custodial, layered with memory and identity, and resistant to clean resolution.
Why This Cultural Piece Resonates
What makes this story notable is that it appears not in an automotive supplement but within the cultural section of one of Sweden’s most established newspapers. By doing so, it frames Saab ownership as part of lived experience rather than as a niche hobby. The cars function as personal markers within a broader national narrative, reflecting endurance, individuality and the quiet complexity of attachment.
For the global Saab community, the specifics may differ, yet the underlying conflict remains recognizable. Accumulating cars can happen gradually; letting them go demands far more than a listing price. In visiting M’s garage and confronting the limits of practicality, Fröberg offers In a personal column for Dagens Nyheter, automotive journalist Jonas Fröberg recounts visiting a Saab enthusiast friend while facing a hard truth of his own – owning five aging Saabs without the skills to maintain them. What begins as an engine removal in a garage slowly becomes a reflection on attachment, identity and the quiet impossibility of letting go.that feels intimate, unsentimental and unmistakably authentic.
The original column in Dagens Nyheter presents this reflection in Swedish, balancing humor with self-awareness. For anyone who has ever hesitated before placing a sale ad for a beloved Saab, the story requires little translation.
