Saab 9-3 Turbo X

'Daddy," my daughter said, her voice pitched somewhere between amusement and bemusement, "there are two men in black at the door." That's not information you want to hear at 8.30 in the morning. CID? Debt collectors? Undertakers? There they stood on the doorstep, inscrutably cool, like Tommy Lee Jones in Men In Black.

After a brief conversation, it became clear that they were not on the trail of fugitive extraterrestrials. Or so they said. Instead, they were delivering a Saab 9-3 Turbo X. Black, of course. Like the Model T Ford and the delivery men themselves, the Turbo X comes only in black. "Whoo," whistled one of the men, handing over the keys. "I can tell you, it really shifts." And with that they were gone, leaving behind the black saloon, as opaque and unyielding as the obelisk in 2001: A Space Odyssey.

Perhaps the beauty of this saloon is that it's of that nature of design that leaves no impression in the mind's eye. Study it at length and then close your eyes, and all that remains on the inner eyelids is darkness. If it wasn't for the fact that it sported so many features, you'd call it featureless. The very title Turbo X sounds like some form of stealth machine, and indeed the car is ideal for anyone who doesn't want to be noticed, and even better for those who want it noticed that they don't want to be noticed.

Many years ago, back in the days of the Saab 93 and 95, there was something sturdy and yet sombrely attractive about the Saab output - in a word, Swedish. But its distinctive characteristics began to blur even before the Scandinavians were bought by the American giant General Motors in 1990 (the takeover was completed in 2000) and all but disappeared thereafter.

The Turbo X seems like an attempt to make a virtue out of the vice of Saab's increasing invisibility. As only 2,000 have been manufactured (and only 500 of them are designated for Britain), it's meant to be a marketing statement car. But what that statement might be is not easy to say. Perhaps that's the factor that accounts for the "X".

By contrast, the appeal of the turbocharger, for which Saab is justly renowned, is more obvious. The man in black was right. Boy, does it shift, and with little fuss. There is, though, a quite audible hum, vaguely reminiscent of an aircraft engine, that starts up each time the groovy little dashboard gauge shows the turbo boost in operation.

There are also several other technical aspects to excite motorheads, such as a new four-wheel drive system. Avoiding boring torque talk, it means you take corners at high speed, should you ever find yourself needing to, without all the hassle of tipping over. Otherwise it's a comfortable, spacious saloon, efficient but decidedly impersonal.

I kept thinking that it's just the sort of car I wish would turn up on those rare occasions I order a minicab for the airport. But as the Saab retails at over 30 grand, it's small surprise that my local minicab drivers tend to prefer a fourth-hand Vauxhall Carlton.

When you engage the ignition of the Turbo X, the display reads, no doubt in homage to Saab's aeronautical roots, "Ready for Take Off". It is. But somehow it seems better suited to taxiing.