When you drive the 9000 out to the middle of some godforsaken Arctic Circle shack for your incomprehensible sauna rituals, what happens when you get locked out wearing nothing but Scandinavian despair?
This sounds like the beginning of a really harsh Jack London story, the kind that ends with corpses buried in a snowbank, but the Finland-grade heater in the Finnish-built Saab keeps the sauna magic going.