Long Drives

Missing my big German.

I miss a million things about the 2001 BMW 740i Sport I used to have. On long trips like the one I took today, an hour’s drive to my wicked-smart rheumatologist, it’s the solid quietness of a big luxury sedan that I miss the most. I can forgive many shortcomings in most any car, but wind and road noise make me really angry.

When I have to change lanes for an exit and the traffic is heavy, I also miss the car’s near-magical ability to simply open up space for me.

I’m not sure how the car could do that.

You’d be surprised how many interesting cars there are to spot in an Aldi parking lot. It was in this parking lot that an ex-pat German approached me to chat about the car, too. He’d had one back home.

After the BMW, I owned a black Mercury Marauder that was approximately the same size and looked, I think, far more aggressive than the BMW. The Marauder couldn’t create space for lane changes like the BMW could, even with its cop-car profile and blacked out grille.

Was I simply a more bold driver in the BMW? Wags will say “asshole in a BMW,” but I’m not a jerk, I promise. Nor did I cut anyone off in that car, except for one single time. I remember the incident because it was so rare for me: I moved at the last minute for an exit after nearly missing it, across three lanes of sparsely-filled freeway, after hearing the throttle click against its stop on the floor. Yes, I did cut someone off.

There are much faster cars these days, and my 740’s 324 lb-ft of torque isn’t that impressive anymore for luxury sport sedans, but the car could move its heft very well— after the initial wind-up. Once there, it didn’t so much scoot as teleport. Friends who drive 500+ lb-ft modern muscle cars are laughing at this, I know.¹ By comparison to real power, my 740 was sleepy. It was good enough for me, though. It was my first car with adequate torque instead of barely enough to merge safely.

Was there something about the tidy, conservative styling of the car and the brand recognition that made people get out of the way? Maybe. It’s a pretty car, from the tail end of 1990’s era of sleek, restrained lines and classic “three box” sedan design.

Brick-red car on a red-brick street.

I drive a buzzy little stick-shift Mazda3 hatchback now. It’s a great car, nimble and secure on the freeway and yes, in the snow too. It fits places the extra-big SUVs just don’t, which means I find good parking places. I’ll defend the practicality of a hatchback until my dying breath. I will stack up (literally) its cargo capabilities against any mid-size crossover. It’s been astoundingly reliable for us.

But it’s not as elegantly solid as my BMW was. It’s not as quiet or as comfortable. Nor as pretty²

And nobody ever gets out of its way.

---

Whitsun is very interested in art restoration. She has far too many interests as well, which is why she's a perfect fit for us.

1. I’m talking to you, Bakery. (He drives a Cadillac with a Corvette engine stuffed under the hood.)

2. I’m sorry, Zerobandwidth. (He’s the former owner of my Mazda, and a friend.)