[iliketurtles]

Redheads. You gotta love 'em

For the goldfish among us that want the super-short version, here's the bottomline.

What is?: Is car
Is new?: Nope
But why?: Because
Kitni chali thi?: Wonly 18,000 KMS
Sacchi?: Yes. God promise
Kitna deti hai?: Bhaag yaha se

Wah ji! (or what I liked about this car)

• Look at it. It’s a Bavarian beauty if ever there was one
• That engine. A pint-sized powerhouse that goes like a stabbed rat
• Memory seats. Such a boon in a multi-driver household
• Sunroof. Because Vitamin D is good for you
• HUD. Dabangg Dabangg Dabangg Dabangg
• The Odometer. At just 18,000 kilometers run, the car is (was) still a virgin, like Salman
• Sports seats. I finally know what it feels like when someone hugs you back. What an incredible feeling
• ZF 8 speed. 'Nuff said
• RWD + High performance turbo petrol. Yes, please
• Under-thigh support. Kyunki yeh aaram ka mamla hai
• Refinement. It's a huge step up from my current steed (sorry, Jetta, I do love you)
• TLC. The car had received more than its fair share of it
• The Exhaust. The car is (was) straight-piped with a stainless steel catback, making it sound like a (bassy) bat straight out of hell at city speeds
• The Tyres. As good as fresh Pirelli's means money saved from the get-go, and we all know money saved is money earned
• Seriously. Just look at it

Naa ji! (or what I dislike)

• Like a newborn baby, this has a soft rear. Like a newborn baby, you really can't be comfortable tossing it about at high speed
• The interiors. Truth be told, it's a bit plain Jane in 2018
• Age. At 6 years old, I'm wandering into dangerously unfamiliar territory with a premium European without warranty. Not enough Mountain Dew in the world for this
• Mileage? What's that?
• Lack of Lumbar support. Spineless move by BMW
• The Exhaust. The car sounds like a thousand (bassy) bats straight out of hell at serious triple digit speeds.
• Boot space. Like birthday cake, it's a bit limited
• In-cabin storage and cubbyholes. More of the above
• Maintenance. It'll cost me how much? Sorry kiddo, there goes your college fund

Special thanks go to my homeboy Tanveer Shaikh for pointing out this beauty, my man Assad Dadan for a photoshoot par excellence, and my maalish wala, just because.

[iliketurtles]

Spot something off? You tell me

When us men stare at the impending brow of middle age off on the horizon, strange things start to happen. Something stirs within. And soon, we find ourselves plummeting at serious speed down a slippery slope into madness.

But we are men, and we fix things, and it has been so since the dawn of time. We thus try a great many things to pull the handbrake on the unstoppable descent into middle age. Receding hairlines are reupholstered. Generous tummies are given a nip and tuck to put them out of sight. And there's more where that came from. But all of this is merely superficial; what if there's an itch to be scratched? One out of sight, but barely ever out of mind?

We all know of the seven year itch when it comes to relationships. With cars, personally, it's more like 5. It's a good age to move a car on, but with middle age comes its own conundrums. How can one hold on to the last vestiges of one's youth before the joints get creaky and the doctors get freaky? How does one show he is more virile than virago? Why, through his ride, of course, for they are extensions of us. And if that is the case, nothing less than the maddest, baddest car will do.

[iliketurtles]

I'll make a completely honest confession to you (but only you); I was never the man with the plan. Be it date night, phoren trips, constructing a YouTube playlist (what, you don't?), or even something as mundane as buying a car, I like cooking khayali pulao. I adore the limitless possibilities of its heady aroma and indulge in greedy mouthfuls of it as often as I can.

But there was always a fly in the ointment, as there always is a pantomime villain. I had absolutely no intention of getting rid of my ride this year, maybe not even in the next 12 months or so. But then, life is what happens to you while you sit around, grandstanding and making your big non-plans.

Some days, I still miss her

Even so, I would be lying if I said that I hadn't considered the possibility of this happening at some point in time in the not-too-far future. An itch was always there, and it had to be scratched. Below, in no particular order, are the cars that drifted into my mind before peeling off into the sunset.

Cars Considered

Octavia VRS

I would be lying if I said the Octy on steroids didn't catch my fancy. The VRS is an Octy that's hit the gym and undergone special forces training before being unleashed as a weapon on unsuspecting civilians. With a feature list longer than my arm, and then some, and a price that marked it out as a blue-collar champion leaving blue-blooded Bavarians with a bloody face, this is a car that's very hard to dislike or argue against.

In the Indian milieu though, there are few things that give gearheads more heebie-jeebies than hearing the words 'Skoda after-sales support'. I freely admit I have never owned a Skoda product, but the few tales of woe, coupled with the fact this was a FWD and I had to have a RWD car as my next ride, ruled this sadly out of contention. The fact that the missus shot it down mercilessly didn't help either.

Polo GTI

It's small. It's hot. It's not what you think it is; it's the Polo GTI, almost perfectly encapsulating all that a hot hatch should be. And coming as I am from VW, dealing with the brand again wasn't something I was particularly averse to.

However, there are some foibles to consider. The Polo GTI is a car that's perfectly nice in almost every way imaginable. It rides well, priced well, has a nice list of features, is reasonably mod-friendly and has enough oomph for when you want to put your foot down. This is a well-built, sensible car, and that for me is its downside. I would dare say it's a bit too sanitized for me, a precision tool that doesn't tug at my heartstrings. The Polo GTI then is that rare, elusive unicorn; made to fulfill a need very few have, the gent that has turned up to the party in tartan pants, trying to look the part. And it does. But I'd personally rather not hang out with it for an extended period. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go chat up lil' miss Cooper.

3 Series GT

Now we're talking. Arguably, other cars of this generation might have usurped it as the definitive champion of its weight class, but the 3 is still the car to beat, the benchmark all aspire to. It's a hunk in a tautly teutonic three-piece suit, and everyone nowadays wants to take a stab at tailoring something akin to it.

This generation of the 3 though, is the perfect example of where the 3 is going wrong. As it seeks to go mass-market and create the perfect car for everyone, BMW strays ever furthermore from the light. In their quest to make the perfect loafer cum running shoes, we have this; the 3 Series GT. A car that's longer than most need, while retaining the characteristic floatiness of the F30 series.

The sharply sloping roofline is hugely polarizing too. I for one don't like the way it looks, and that's coming from someone who quite likes fastbacks. A more prudent man might appreciate the car's sensibilities. But while I have been called many things in my time, sensible is not one of them. I am an impulsive creature of passion, and this car puts out more fires for me than it lights. It could not be mine, for it did not tug on my heartstrings.

330i M sport

Which brings us nicely to the 330i M-sport, the meaty-ish muscleman of the lineup. I knew for sure I didn't want a diesel, for we are now in the endgame, to quote my family physician, Dr. Strange. High displacement petrols are going the way of the dodo, and over the next two decades, I'm quite certain that the 'petrol' within 'petrolheads' is going to remain merely titular. So if I don't enjoy a high-performance petrol engine now, then when would I do so?

It's another matter entirely that I could not afford this car brand new with the chump change I had lying around. I even rummaged through the sofa cushions, scoured under the bed and shook the dog vigorously to see if he had swallowed any change (spoiler: he hadn't). And so this pipe dream, like many before it, vanished into the aether. But I've always been a glass half full kind of guy, and so peeked beyond other doors when one slammed close in my face.

530d

One need not extol the virtues of the 530d around these parts, for it as close to perfection as it comes to balancing the needs of daily driving with that of an enthusiast. If I did have to go with a car that is powered by devil's juice, why not do it right? And being wrong never felt more right than behind the wheel of a 530d. Like a heady, intoxicating woman, it has you wrapped around its (non-existent) spare wheel before you know it. Timeless elegance meets sheer brute force in this car that packs more than enough muscle for most men, and it reeks beauty inside and out in that subtle, understated Germanic way that I find so alluring. This is the Teutonic titan most will aspire to, the most sensible laugh-a-minute ride your money can buy.

Alas, clean examples of this too were as out of reach for me as logic would be in a Bhai movie. As someone wiser than I once remarked, if you have to think whether you can afford it, you really can't. And with that humbling thought, I moved along, content with my lot and piggy bank in tow. This was not to be my car, or even my year.

And then, out of nowhere, scarlet serendipity struck.

[iliketurtles]

Lady in red

In life and in love, we all have a type. Me, I'm a simple man. I see redhead, I appreciate. I remember going ga-ga over Nicole Kidman in the incredible car crash of a movie that was Batman Forever (remember that one?), and being almost as nutty about Jessica Rabbit. Christina Hendricks, Julia Roberts, Lindsay Lohan (briefly), Prince Harry...the list goes on. The point is, red always hit the spot for me. Almost without fail.

I mean, think about it. You might despise Ferrari's rampant, rank commercialism, but there's something about their scarlet cars that sets the pulse racing. From danger to lust, and everything in between, red is a color for all moods and seasons. And it's a big part of Ferrari's lore and lure, no question about that. Alfa Romeo's, often called the car aficionado's car, looks a sight for sore eyes in red too. I mean, have you seen the Giulia Quattro Formaggi? It's got the show to match the go.

And so, one fine Sunday when Kurla West's Kanye West (a.k.a. Tanveer_2558) slid into my messages with a barrage of pics and an offer he claimed I couldn't refuse...I ignored him, momentarily. It was a Sunday, after all. Even the gods take the day off, I am but mortal. But like a dog clinging on tenaciously to his last bone, T was nothing if not persistent, saying things like "See this car, you'll like it. IMAGE NUMBER 7 WILL BLOW YOUR MIND."

Try as I might, he did not budge. The song remained the same, and he was stuck on repeat; Come As You Are. And so I hauled my lazy ass to Worli Seaface, home of the hopeless and the romantic. And like every other love-struck couple dotting the promenade, Cupid kicked me right in the lug nuts. Boot over wheels in love and all that. There she stood, a sight in red.

I've never seen you shine so bright, you were amazing
I've never seen so many people want to be there by your side
And when you turned to me and smiled, it took my breath away
And I have never had such a feeling
Such a feeling of complete and utter love, as I did that night

It was love at first sight, but one has to be careful to not let the heart run roughshod over the head. So walk-arounds and inspections were done, conversations were had, a few laughs were exchanged (because I'm just that hilarious, lol) and one swift exchange of keys later, in the driver's seat I was.

To say the car was immaculate would be an understatement. Save for a chip on the windshield, and a few paint chips on the bonnet (inevitable really for high performance Europeans) it was in near mint condition. With just 18,000 clicks on the odo, it looked the part, and it certainly drove the part. It was as tight as a Dadar local in there (particularly in the backseat, but who cares for passengers, amirite?), save for a light rattle from the left-hand side window, which I will inevitably fix before it raises its ugly head again. Rinse and repeat.

However, these extremely minor niggles weren't going to throw a spanner in the works. Given that Deutsche-mobiles depreciate faster than a wooly mammoth gone skydiving sans a parachute, giving Red a loving home was a no-brainer.

A sight for sore eyes, if ever there was one

By now, you know what's coming. It's a 328i. It's a turbocharged Tomahawk. It was top-of-the-line back in the day, and it's still pretty darn good in this day and age. But the proof of this high-octane pudding lies underneath the raked hood, in its 2.0 liter turbocharged motor putting out (in as much as it doesn't matter) 240 ponies. That's a lot of prancing horses pulling you along by any stretch of the imagination.

And so, once smitten, twice shy, I returned gingerly, hoping my body didn't give away the tingly sense of excitement I felt permeate every fiber of my being, the litmus test of true love. We talked numbers, we exchanged numbers and left it at that. I was the proverbial duck in a pond; calm on the surface, working overtime below it. You know when you know, and I knew; this was it. I had found The One. The deal must be sealed.

This is where the story gets a bit boring, with paperwork, moolah and the like coming into the picture, so I'll give you the short version. Haggling (not much, promise) was done, funds were arranged, a car was sold (sadly, truly), and et voila. My descent into madness was complete.

For those wondering if this baby is pre-owned, but of course it is. To all you doubters, may I direct your attention to Exhibit A, an ad from BMW no less that is a fitting riposte to all those wondering why.

Exhibit A: Love is often blind

[iliketurtles]

Dat nose tho

It would be in no way an understatement to say that this is the culmination of a childhood dream. BMW posters never adorned the walls of my room in my formative years (the Diablo took that honor), but they most definitely adorned the corridors of my heart. Truth be told, I didn't believe it was mine even when I saw it parked safely at home. A small part of me still expects to be jolted awake and returned to reality, but this is it. My red not-so-dead redemption.

I love so many things about this car. Its color. Its raked bonnet. Those wheels. The distinct lack of chrome. The minimalist elegance of the interiors. The way it seems so solidly put together. And perhaps above all, the way it makes me feel. Perhaps that's why I've added about 5000 kms to the odo in about 4 months of ownership, in addition to many sneaky over-the-shoulder glances as I walk away wistfully after parking it. It's clocked about 23000 kilometers on the odo at the time of my writing this, some months later.

I've always adored cars that had more up their wheel wells than they cared to show, and this 3 epitomizes that near perfectly. To the layman, it's just another 3, albeit a very nice looking one. It's only on closer inspection that the finer details pop out, and you understand that this is a Secret Service agent in plainclothes. The suit is a bit showy, but nice. The hair is neatly coiffured and the bulges are all in the right places, if you get my rear wheel drift. For all appearances, this is a bankers car. Sensible, erudite and worldly-wise. But fire her up and the illusion is shattered. Subtlety gets thrown to the wind as the car gets shouty with a mind to shoot down all in its path. It's like someone hit a button to unleash the beast.

A thirst for power

As car makers the world over became increasingly aware of the plight of the Polar Bear, it was but a given that global warming would lead to a cooling of interest in big displacement, low efficiency engines. Us mango people are all the poorer for it, but it's not going to turn me into a raging virago railing at the memory of times now gone by. Instead, let's look to the present, because as some might cheesily say, it's a gift. Like this 2.0 N20 turbo petrol. Like a Viking, it's gruff. If the inline sixes of old were Botticelli singing sonorously, this motor is more Eddie Vedder practicing his baritone, which is not a bad thing in and of itself.

It’s quiet and refined with just the right amount of power. Do not, however, for a moment think that this is a soft car built for merely plodding around the city in more than a modicum of comfort. Because when you want it to go, it takes off like our desi passengers making a beeline for their luggage the moment a plane lands. Put your foot down in Sport Plus mode (which I must admit I have done only momentarily), and the digital speed readout in the head-up display spit numbers at you faster than my little brain can compute. By the time you’ve girded your loins, you’re in danger of going at the sort of speeds that will put you on the wrong side of the law. Needless to say, I love the car's feral nature when challenged to give its all.

It's not got so little power as to make you wonder which pasture those horses wandered off too, nor so much as to leave a stain in your pants as you pull back the reins on a zillion galloping ghodas. Of course, it goes without saying that it goes approximately 10 kilometers between tankfuls, so that's a very pretty penny to pay for the performance on tap.

Complaints from a performance perspective? None, really. If I had to nitpick, I'd say that if you concentrate hard enough with the car in Eco Pro mode, you'll notice a bit of your soul slipping away as it's clubbed into submission by the car's sluggishness. Which is not to say it doesn't have its uses, especially in slow-moving traffic, but this is a car that was born to run, a coked up German Greyhound straining at the leash, ready to be let loose at a moment's notice.

[iliketurtles]

I've driven the E90 on very few occasions, but it was enough for me to develop a strong affinity for it. As sharp as a serrated knife, it made you almost painfully and instantly aware of everything was going on. The F30, in comparison, sends you a telegram that takes a wee bit of time to hit home. What's more, the rear end of the car hops and skips about like a fidgety kid on hot coals, and it makes for a few squeaky bum moments when you're at serious speed. That waftiness is seriously off-putting, I just knew it would be one of the first things I had to fix.

If I were to put aside the thoughts of the invisible Kangaroo kept captive in the boot, the car honestly rides quite brilliantly. I don't know what to put it down to, but I frankly couldn't care less about the finer details of it all. Having come from a car shod with 16 inchers, I was prepared to have a ringside seat on the highway to hell. But the OEM 18" wheels were just as comfy and a heck of a lot better looking than its predecessors. In many cases, bigger is better, and this is most certainly one of them, waftiness aside. There's been a lot of trials and tribulations on this front, but I've finally settled in on a set of Bilstein B6's for now (with stock springs), and I should be getting them installed in a week to 10 days. Details will, of course, pop up here in due course.

Exhaust-ing times

In utero

In progress

Installed

The car was (and is) intoxicatingly great to drive on the open road, but the one thing I had a love-hate relationship with was the barking exhaust. Where the OEM setup barely uttered a murmur, this baby was straight piped, and it now babbled away no end. At city speeds, it sounded like a beautifully angry concerto being conducted at the rear. Highway speeds are an altogether different matter though, for it just got progressively louder with each tick of the speedo to the point that it sounded like an immense animal was in my ear all the time, bleating on repeat.

Luckily, I was given the stock muffler by the seller, and I slapped it back on and tweaked the geometry of the exhaust a bit to cut out the deafening drone that plagued each drive. In a nutshell, the car has a custom midpipe and axleback exhaust plus a valvetronic controller, for reasons I will tell you about shortly.

I spy, with my little eye...

As any married man would gladly attest, all decisions taken between husband and wife involve a little give and take, which is to say the husband gives and the wife takes. It is no different in my household, where the wife adored the car, but couldn't stand the bark of the exhaust. "Get rid", she said, but I was loathe to just revert the car to its stock form. And so, cunning, devious me started to explore ways to have my cake and eat it too. As an aside, why would anyone not want to eat a cake they have at their disposal? Silly idiom, that.

Nevertheless, after much exploration and chatter, I decided to install a valvetronic controller so as to make the car sound like sinner or saint at the flick of a switch. It's the best of both worlds, and it ensured peace now reigns supreme once again in my corner of the woods. Just goes to show that where there's a valve, there's a way. Of course, my plans for a catless downpipe might disturb the peace, but I will cross that bridge when I get to it.

The controller itself is a simple thing. It's installed on the B pillar, easily reachable from my driving position. It's wired to the exhaust, and runs off of USB power via a controller in the hood that manages the value. Leave it shut, and peace reigns nigh. Leave it fully open and you can announce your arrival to the world.

The car is a bahnstormer, if ever there was one, but the woods are lovely, dark and deep, and I have many, many more miles to go before I sleep. I have been bitten by a bug, and there's no cure other than to continue modifying the car to my tastes, legal edicts be damned. Rest assured I'll continue to post my trials and tribulations here.

[iliketurtles]

Of course, all is not perfect. Is anything ever, really? Take the sat nav, for one. It is the very epitome of one step forward, three steps back. It's cumbersome to use, dithering and dreary in a world where the game has moved on quite significantly. Such a shame, since it's terribly useful to have the navigation pop up in the HUD. The game has moved on tremendously, and Google Maps is fantastic, which makes me think if I should retrofit Carplay.

On the topic of Carplay, it is irksome to see so many cars nowadays ship with either it or Android Auto out of the box. For BMW to treat it as a luxury, and to charge a princely sum to retrofit it, is disappointing. But where there's a will, I want to be in it, and I might just bite the bullet and make this happen.

One of the first things to strike me about the 3 vis-à-vis the Jetta (because one always pines for the ex, do they not?) is the armrest, or perhaps more pertinently as it is in my case, the dogrest. My little, furry bundle of joy found the Jetta to be pawsome primarily because of the width of its armrest, which allowed him to perch himself perfectly with a king's view of the road ahead, nestled against us.

Morpheus in the middle

Alas, the 3's driver oriented nature extends to the armest too, to the detriment of passengers furry or otherwise. Even with his miniscule footprint, my poor pooch struggles to get a good grasp of things, struggling to get his footing on an armrest less wide than the Jetta's. To paraphrase Randy Jackson, it's a no from him, dawg. But that doesn't stop him trying.

Behold his pawsomeness, the Maharaja of Mayhem, Morpheus

Another oddity lies with the keys, which need to be fished out of the deepest recesses of my pockets every time I need to get into the car or down shutters once I step out, but not to fire up the car. Call me stupid (you won't be the first one to do so), but that's just a half-assed solution. Either you go fully keyless, a la the Elantra, or you go old school and give an ignition hole. Me, I'm not averse to that. A little bit of analog doesn't hurt in a world going all too digital.

Since we're talking digital dividends, allow me to say I'm disappointed by the slight vagueness of the steering. It's got a deadness to it at dead center in Comfort mode, but weighs up appreciably in Sports mode. Still, no patch on a pure hydraulic steering, but no point railing at the changing times and yearning for the past. Take it on the chin and move on.

[iliketurtles]

And now, as a reward for you putting up with my rambling ruminations thus far, here are some pics for your viewing pleasure. This is, but the start of what I hope to be a fun thread, and I look forward to bringing the party to a screen near you. Ciao ciao!

Achtung: photos shotos ahead

[CrAzY dRiVeR]

Thread moved out from the Assembly Line. Thanks for sharing, Karan!

[Santoshbhat]

This has to be the most entertaining review I've read on Team-BHP. You've summed up a lot of emotions that many of us are going through in your own inimitable style. Aankho mein khushi ke aansoo aa gaye

Car is looking magnificent in the photos. Superb decision. Superb car. Enjoy!

[keroo1099]

You have a rare gift for penning your thoughts with humour that makes sense. Superbly written.

[JoshMachine]

Amazing and quite hilarious, but a realistic take on a review! Enjoyed reading it in one go. Thanks for sharing

I decided to install a valvetronic controller so as to make the car sound like sinner or saint at the flick of a switch. It's the best of both worlds, and it ensured peace now reigns supreme once again in my corner of the woods.
The controller itself is a simple thing. It's installed on the B pillar, easily reachable from my driving position. It's wired to the exhaust, and runs off of USB power via a controller in the hood that manages the value. Leave it shut, and peace reigns nigh. Leave it fully open and you can announce your arrival to the world.

Some pics/videos would be helpful.

[ghodlur]

What an entertaining review after a long time. At some point I thought Bas kar pagle Rulayega kya.

Frankly I didn't look at the pics, totally was engrossed with the write up. But I summed it up thinking you have got a good deal and you are happy with the buy.

Happy mile crunching and drive safely. Keep updating in the same style as the review.

[speedmiester]

Congrats on your new car and wish you many happy miles with your "red head"
Wonderful and interesting read after an afternoon meal.
Tugged my heart strings a bit as I was just thinking about upgrading this year.

[lamborghini]

Congratulations on the buy!

I have to say, we have had very similar stories - I graduated from a Laura TDi, booked an Octy vRS until I spotted a pre-owned 328i done 20Kkm last year, which courtesy Akshay1234 is now at home, with some works under the hood (M Adaptive Suspension, intake, remap, and some cosmetic bits).

I was pushing a friend to have a look at this exact 328i, but unfortunately it was sold very shortly after. Hoping to see it soon in real life, and compare notes on both our 3s - especially the exhaust and the door handles!