Silenced neighbourhoods, desolate streets and empty roads, when it seems like the entire world is safely behind locked doors and curtained windows, that’s the time to drive, like truly drive.

An almost bewitching sense of freedom and reverence - you, your car and endless opportunity to journey, anywhere, everywhere.

Old Saabs whisper their way through silent streets and once on to open roads, the instantaneous rush of the Turbo projects you towards the distance, no destination in mind. Window down no matter what the weather, just to listen to the soundtrack to another perfect drive. There’s a rawness to older Saabs, they allow an affinity with the roads that no new car can dream of matching, an analogue experience delivered by an intelligently engineered machine.

Mile after mile of not knowing where you’ll end up, see an interesting road and turn on to it, truckers and other dead hour drivers are virtually the only other people on the roads, silenced passage to your unknown destination.

I think it’s a part of life not many people understand, or even want to, it has no real purpose, no real result. Except the people that do get it, live by it, freedom and space to be totally immersed in the beauty of driving, a bond with your car and space to strip away complicated thoughts - simplicity for a few dark golden hours.