Car Gazing
Little BMW approaches perfection
There's not a bad thing to say about new 3-series
By Derek Price
It's easy to write about a car you hate.
You just say things like, "I'd rather lick the sweat off Jesse Ventura's back than drive this awful pile of poo." String a few nasty comments together, and your column is done. Simple as that.
But what about a car that's so perfect you can't find anything bad to say about it? What if, for example, you're writing about the new BMW 3-series?
You look at every detail on the car to find something you can compare to the stupidity of environmentalist Democrats, or the suckiness of the Los Angeles Raiders, or Donald Trump's hair, or your great-grandma's anatomy. But, after examining everything from the tire valve caps to the bolts that hold down the front seats, you can't find anything whatsoever to bash.
Perfection is awfully disappointing for a critic.
That's the quandary I'm in after driving the new BMW 3-series for a week. If I were named God of BMW tomorrow, with complete power to change this car in any way I wanted, there's not a single thing I could do to make it better.
I would think about making it a tad bigger to give my kids a little bit more room in the back seat, but that would also make it heavier, which would make it handle ever so slightly more like a hippo and less like a go-kart. So that's a no-go.
If this were three years ago, I might change the way the car looks, particularly its rather rotund backside. But this is 2007, so I've had time to acquire a taste for the hind end of new BMWs. And I actually like it now.
I might want to ratchet up its already awesome performance by adding a fire-breathing engine, giant brakes and a racing suspension, but BMW has thought of that. It's called the M3, and I'd probably just muck it up if I tried to do the same thing while serving as God of BMW.
Finally, I'd be tempted to soften the suspension just enough to smooth out the bumps on highway trips. But that would totally defeat the purpose of driving a BMW in the first place.
Nobody drives a BMW to be separated from the road. BMW drivers want to be connected to the pavement like its their Siamese twin, and that's exactly what the 3-series delivers.
And that's a shame, really. Because it means you'll have to wait until next week to read about a car with leather that feels like snot-covered sandpaper and an engine that sounds like it's playing a dying Scotsman in "Braveheart."
(Derek Price is a newspaper editor and freelance writer living in Texas.)
The above article is provided for the interest and entertainment of our visitors. The views expressed in this article are only those of the author, who is solely responsible for the content. AutoGuide.net does not endorse any of these views, and is not to be held responsible for any of the content provided in the above article.
Click here to read Derek's past articles!
If you have any questions or comments for Derek or the AutoGuide.net, please fill out this form.
