Saabs are very fine cars, always have been, always will be ("proper" Saabs, that is, not those gruesome lash-ups sold in America that are just Chevys with Saab badges).
Safe, sound and comfy as your favourite leather armchair. For many, the family Saab was their favourite leather armchair.
Yet now I have decided, with reluctance, that Saabs are much like that other Scandinavian delicacy, pickled herrings.
There are some, like me, who can't get enough of them, who thrill to the discovery of some novel marinade or who find themselves on a quest to see them drenched in the ultimate dressing. That's the herrings, not the Saabs.
And there are others for whom the very sight and smell of one is enough to make them feel just a little queasy. That's the Saabs, not the herrings, by the way.
Being a bit of a Scandophile, I've often reflected on how it might be that Saab, as well as the processed fish industry, could win new friends and customers, and recruit to its fold those who might become as hysterically enthusiastic as existing fans.
At the Saab Festival in and around the Trollhattan home of the company last week, Saab fanatics from all over the world gathered to celebrate the marque's 60th birthday.
Grown adults almost wept at the sight of finely preserved Saab two-strokes, while children gazed in awe at handsome 900s and svelte Sonnets.
I saw plenty of weirdness there, human and automotive and sometimes a combination of the two. For example, in Sweden you can buy something called a Toppola which bolts on to the back of your Saab after you've removed the rear hatch door and which transforms your sporty saloon into a campervan, with a bed on the car roof and a living room/kitchen tacked on the back. You get to live in your Saab. Such devotion.
And yet Saab still only sells roughly as many cars as it did in the mid-1970s. As a brand, in global terms, it's tiny - 133 000 units a year; not much bigger than MG Rover when that company went under a couple of years ago, and around the same scale as Proton.
Saab has always had a discerning customer base, people who are or wish to be thought of as individuals, mildly enthusiastic about cars, interested in design and with the mental capacity to realise that no, you don't always have to buy a BMW or a Mercedes-Benz. How to expand that base?
One surefire way would be to get some new metal into the showrooms. Like Jaguar, Saab has seen a bit of a drought when it comes to truly new models. Soon, though, we should see the attractive new Saab 9-4 SUV and, later, a new Astra-derived compact car.
However, the new, facelifted 9-3 is a the usual herring in a new jar with some new dressing, although this is a very interesting new jar and the dressing is pretty tasty, too.
What's new? First off, there's a new snout, a "clamshell" bonnet like Saabs of old, more colour coding and a neater, simpler look.
The ridiculous-looking "bendy" door handles have gone (except on the convertible), replaced by more solid items. All the models now have white "ice block" rear-light clusters, although the effect is spoilt by the black trim that looks like left-over masking tape.
As usual with a Saab, though, the beauty is more than skin deep. The new twin-turbocharged 1.9 diesel (a variety of the one seen in Vauxhalls, Fiats and Alfas) is an impressive unit, delivering excellent mid-range torque, if sometimes a bit gruffly.
Next year we should see the arrival of Saab's first all-wheel drive system, a state of the art affair as good as the machinery you'll find underpinning Audi quattros and Subarus.
I'm not sure this Saab is up there with the newer BMW 3-series or the recently launched Mercedes-Benz C-Class for refinement, but it is one of the most supremely comfortable and roomy cars in its sector.
You only get to know how good a companion a Saab can be when you've taken it on a long journey and spent a little more time becoming acquainted with its virtues.
Like pickled herring, it's an acquired taste, but well worth the effort. - The Independent, London