What was tested? 2007 BMW 328xi Compact Coupe and Convertible ($37,875).
Options: Premium package ($3,250).
Price as tested: $41,125.
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 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 G-d 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 G-d 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."
Pros: It's automotive perfection - fun, beautiful and luxurious.
Cons: If you don't like driving, you won't like this car.