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Kudos to Saturn: Those plastic body panels really do work. The pristine S-Series you see here—a time machine of a car if there ever was one—resides not in rust-free Arizona or California but in the heart of Chicago. Twenty-seven years ago, Barbara Schreiber custom-ordered this bright red SC2, attracted not only to the coupe’s Coke-bottle planform and pop-up headlights but also to Saturn’s new way of doing business. She used the car sparingly as her primary driver for 16 years, and if the roads aren’t too snowy or salty, she still exercises it weekly.
With just 61,000 miles on the clock, her first-gen Saturn’s finish still glistens. The interior is showroom fresh thanks to seat covers and rubber floormats she bought the day after she took delivery. Everything except the alternator, valve cover gasket, and muffler (the latter replaced just a month before we drove it) is original—including the batteries in the key fob.
If we wanted to experience what the Saturn S-series was like when it was new, we couldn’t do any better than this coupe.
To understand how revolutionary the Saturn car was, you have to remember what other General Motors products of the early 1990s were like—which we do, all too vividly. Most GM cars were known for brake pedals that traveled halfway to the firewall before biting, turn signal stalks that felt as if they might break off in your hand, and gravel-grinder four-cylinder engines.
It was with those memories in mind that we climbed into Schreiber’s SC2. Our first impression—barring the mind-bender of sitting in what felt like a brand-new 27-year-old car—is an overwhelming sense of Saturn’s mission: to turn its back on the rest of GM and build a car as good as the Japanese brands. Saturn, like its trans-Pacific rivals, focused on the tactility of frequent contact points. The SC2’s turn signals and shifter engage with an exaggerated clack. Buttons and dials feel chunky and substantial. Gauges and lettering are big and legible, thanks to a 1995 update addressing our 1991-era complaints about the instrumentation.
Schreiber drives us out to the curvy roads southwest of the city. She is not shy with the accelerator pedal, and as we take the driver’s seat, she encourages us to follow her lead. “I trust you,” she says, and that’s saying a lot: We are the first people to drive her SC2 since she bought it new. In nearly three decades of ownership, this is her first ride in the passenger seat.
The SC2, while not exactly cramped, has a surprising dearth of headroom, but visibility is great, with nothing but thin pillars and glass all around. That’s fortunate, because the side mirrors are half the height they ought to be. We shift the four-speed automatic into drive—clack!—and we’re off.
The 2 in the SC2’s name denotes, among other things, the 16-valve, twin-cam, 124-hp version of the Saturn-exclusive 1.9-liter I-4. (SC1 models had eight-valve, single-cam engines.) The SC2’s engine is strongest in the midrange, with power trailing off as the revs rise—unusual for a 1990s 16-valver but arguably better suited to American driving habits than the rev-happy Hondas.
Back in the day, we complained about both the quantity and quality of the engine noise. A couple of sympathetic vibrations from the interior are among the few signs of this Saturn’s true age; still, we hear exactly what our early ’90s selves were complaining about: Whereas Honda engines had a racy snarl and Toyotas sang like finely tuned sewing machines, the Saturn’s engine note isn’t much different from a contemporary Chevrolet Cavalier’s.
Everything else, though, is different—very different. The steering is delightfully hefty, loading up nicely as we build speed. The brake pedal is firm and responsive, as is the ride. This isn’t the most communicative chassis, but neither is it actively working to isolate us from the road surface. Schreiber encourages us to ramp up our speed in the curves. We don’t push as hard as we dare—no point in risking the pristine bodywork—but there’s a lot of fun to be had between here and understeer.
What surprises us most is the familiarity of the driving experience: Good, if not quite up to the standards of its Japanese rivals. Are we describing a classic Saturn or a modern General Motors product?
And therein lies the epiphany: Saturn may have been a failure, but not one of engineering. Driving this SC2 makes it clear Saturn’s engineers were on the right track. The Saturn brand—plastic body panels and all—is gone, but its spirit is alive and well in GM’s cars of today.
| 1996 Saturn SC2 Specifications | |
| PRICE AS TESTED (WHEN NEW) | $18,115 ($35,300 in 2023) |
| LAYOUT | Front-engine, FWD, 5-pass, 2-door coupe |
| ENGINE | 1.9 L/124-hp/122-lb-ft DOHC 16-valve I-4 |
| TRANSMISSION | 4-speed auto |
| CURB WEIGHT | 2,400 lb (est) |
| WHEELBASE | 99.2 in |
| L x W x H | 174.6 x 67.6 x 50.6 in |
| 0-60 MPH | 9.0 sec (MT est) |
| EPA CITY/HWY/COMB FUEL ECON | 21/31/25 mpg |
| EPA RANGE, COMB | 320 miles |
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