BMW 318i

...mid-eighties to the late-nineties the BMW three-series was the epitome of success. Quick, glamorous and expensive, the three's beautifully aggressive stance let you know that beneath that pointed bonnet beat a powerful heart.

In those days, the car was a status symbol of success. An estate agent or an insurance salesman driving a glamorous BMW three-series showed they were successful, that they knew what they were talking about, that ...
...*the* car to have. BMW jumped on the expensive image the three-series had here in the UK and stripped it down to its basics: you couldn't buy a specific model, everything was an optional extra on the car -- even the radio. You chose your engine, then your trim style, then added everything else you wanted as an optional extra. This was a successful formula for the German marque, until the Japanese started to enter the executive saloon market with ... more

From the mid-eighties to the late-nineties the BMW three-series was the epitome of success. Quick, glamorous and expensive, the three's beautifully aggressive stance let you know that beneath that pointed bonnet beat a powerful heart.

In those days, the car was a status symbol of success. An estate agent or an insurance salesman driving a glamorous BMW three-series showed they were successful, that they knew what they were talking about, that they were good at their job; today, if a sales rep were to arrive in anything more fancy than a Vauxhall Vectra or a Ford Mondeo he'd be lucky to get passed the receptionist to his meeting, branded arrogant and a show-off, but in the boom and bust period of the 1980's image was everything, and the car was your image.

To reflect this, Taylors Estate Agents equipped their reps with three-series BMWs and they became *the* car to have. BMW jumped on the expensive image the three-series had here in the UK and stripped it down to its basics: you couldn't buy a specific model, everything was an optional extra on the car -- even the radio. You chose your engine, then your trim style, then added everything else you wanted as an optional extra. This was a successful formula for the German marque, until the Japanese started to enter the executive saloon market with the ever-reliable Honda Accord and, later, the Lexus IS200.

The model to have was, at the very least, the 320. All BMW engines revved happily and sounded unstressed even when the driver was racing the nuts off them, getting the rev-counter needle to touch that horrid red line, but the straight six-cylinder engine that came in the 320 and above sounded sweeter than most, and the driver was always happy to race the car to hear that happy wail.

I always promised myself at least a 320, first by the time I was 21 and, when that dream wasn't realised, by the time I was 30. Sadly, fate intervened, firstly in the guise of finances -- or the lack of them -- and then later in the guise of the IS200, which was a more financially rewarding package based on similar ideals to the BMW, but when I reached the tender age of 31 I finally managed to get my hands on a BMW 318i SE.

The model was a 2001 Y-reg and by now BMW had changed the way their cars were monikered. Originally, the way to identify a BMW's engine size was via the numerics that made up its name: the first digit (3) was the model, so you had the 3-series, 5-series, 6-series and 7-series; there was even, briefly, an eight-series. The last two digits represented the engine size, so a 318 was a 1.8 litre three-series, a 525 a 2.5 litre five-series, and so on. Simple, really, but today it's not the case. By the time my 2001 model 318 was built the engine in it was a 1.9 four-cylinder lump; today, the 318 is a two-litre four cylinder while the 320 is a two-litre six cylinder. It all makes for a confusing read in comparison to the halcyon days of BMW's identifiers.

In addition, these days BMW have to provide models, such as the SE. They could not continue on the lines of 'adding options' to the basic car as more and more competitors brought out 'standard specification' equipment, and so the badging of S, SE and so on came about once again. Equally, as more and more competitive brands came onto the market and as traditional rep-mobiles like the Vectra and the Mondeo improved in both quality and equipment, BMW were forced to bring down the prices of their executive saloon in order to maintain a dominant place in the market; after all, the UK was the only country to have such high prices for BMW's baby - in Germany it was owned and driven by taxi drivers but in the UK it could barely be afforded by anyone less than a junior board-member.

So with the increase in specification and the lowering of the price, the BMW three-series has become a very commonplace car in the company car park.

Just what makes the BMW three-series such a desirable car? Is it the brand, known for a solid build and reliable performance? Is it the presence a BMW carries on the road? Is it the way it handles, precise and correct? I'd always wanted one, and here it was - admittedly, at two years old, not brand new, but I finally had a BMW three-series. The specification on board was extremely good, with cruise control, climate control, traction control, electric windows and heated mirrors, plus parking sensors all fitted as standard and safety is a plus too, with front and side airbags and curtain airbags across the windscreen. The six-CD system in mine was an optional extra, housed in the boot at a cost of £250.

Climbing behind the wheel of a BMW
makes you feel a bit special. The controls are laid out perfectly, the steering wheel is fully adjustable and the exhaust note, even from this 1.9 powerplant, burbles nicely at idle. In the dark, quality touches such as the interior lights coming on when you switch off the engine, and lights in the footwells when you open the doors, all make the car feel just that step above the Mondeo and driving at night the sharp red dials on the dashboard are crisp and clear. BMW have added a wonderful touch to the central column, beaming a soft orange light down from above the rear-view mirror to swathe the gearbox and surrounding controls in a soft orange glow. It's done so subtley that you don't even notice it's there, until you move your hand across the gear knob and notice that it's lit up orange also.

To drive, this BMW was, well, disappointing. The engine is woefully slow and screams in agony when you try to make it do anything more exciting than 3500rpm; at first I thought I was driving a diesel, it was willing me to change gear so early. This wasn't like the BMW 318's I remembered of old, let alone the 320's. Steering is precise but uninspiring and the rear-wheel drive chassis, so tamed by the traction-control and that perfectly-balanced chassis, that unless you really push the car hard into a bend you are unlikely to know you're not driving a front-wheel drive car. This isn't to take anything away from BMW: the car is very well balanced and very easily controllable, it just lacks the thrill of older BMWs and modern day rivals. You no longer feel as if you are driving something special and, when you pull into Tesco's car park and position your three-series between two others, you realise that you're no longer driving something exclusive either.

With a marque as premium as BMW, however, you would expect something extraordinary special from their dealers. Alas, the story gets worse. When I took delivery of my three-series there was a horrible grinding noise from the rear left corner. Having driven many an old banger in my time, I recognised the sound of a wearing wheel-bearing straight away, though you wouldn't expect such wear and tear on a two year-old-car with just 36'000 miles on the clock. Similarly, the power-steering felt oddly weighted to one side: turning left could have been done by Olive Oyl but turning right required the strength of Popeye, *after* he'd eaten his spinach. There was something seriously wrong with this car so I took it into the local dealer and explained what I thought it could be.

BMW dealers are, without doubt, arrogant. They believe - in some ways rightly - that they have the best product on the market, but that does not give them the right to criticise their customers. I was assured that, being a BMW owner, I was driving one of the most robust cars on the road and that there could be absolutely no way that a wheel-bearing was going or the power-steering pump was failing, especially on a model so young. By the end of the day, however, I received a call to say my car wouldn't be ready that evening as it needed a new wheel-bearing and a new power-steering pump... Whilst I had no other major mechanical complaints during the 14 months I had the car, on each visit to the dealers I was left feeling chided by the service department and when it came to discussing a replacement car they were so disparaging of the competition that I felt I didn't want to be associated with the brand any more.

It's no wonder, then, that BMW drivers often have a bad image on the road. Their dealers are confident to the point of arrogance and their cars handle so well that their drivers don't give a second thought to changing lane, cutting up others, or undertaking. There's a joke about BMW drivers believing that the third-lane on the motorway is purely for the, and an even older joke about even the indicators on BMWs being optional extras, harking back to the days of the 'everything optional' approach. That joke still goes about today: after all, watch a BMW approach a junction or a roundabout, and look to see if the indicators come on at any point...

Which is all a great shame really, because fundamentally the BMW three-series is a fantastic car, especially the SE, with a top-level of specification, a strong and responsive chassis, a reliable engine (which on the newer models is once again great) and they still have an exclusive image.

But, between the two, I'd still have the Lexus IS200... 

...less