Apparently, there are far more wagon hos1 in the club and across the world than either I or our friends at BMW realized. How do we know? As an April Fool’s joke, BMW posted an M3 Touring GT3 racecar to its site. The response was so overwhelming that BMW had to build one and go racing. Need more support for the proposition? Subaru redesigned the Outback to look more like an SUV and sales took a dump.
“But there’s the M5 Touring!” you (and BMW corporate) say. Despite the weight, I have no issue with the M5 Touring beyond the price. Sure, I may bag one if/when they depreciate, but a new one is nowhere in my future. An M3 Touring though? My order would be in already, despite the hideous front end.
I had a plan though: Move to Europe in retirement and get one there, but family issues2 precluded that from happening. Not one to give up, we planned a couple of weeks in Portugal, and my big idea was to borrow one from BMW to demonstrate to my wife that changing continents for vehicle ownership was not only a perfectly reasonable course, but a very practical one as well. How much more accommodating could I possibly be?
So, I talked to Travis about it. After he finished laughing, got up off the floor, and wiped his eyes, he advised that even though he liked the idea, the chances that BMW of Portugal would cooperate were about zero. Maybe if we were going to Germany…
But we weren’t, so I did the next best thing. I rented one. Not an actual M3, but I did find a 320d M Sport Touring at SIXT for a relatively reasonable price.
The aforementioned rental wagon. Photo: Mark Buehler
My conclusion is that we—you and I—need a 3 Series touring here. Badly.
Why? Despite having over 60,000 kilometers on it and being a rental, it appeared and drove as if it were brand new. It was quiet unless I stood on it, comfortable with the sport seats we all know and love, and it had enough room for me (though anyone sitting behind me should probably be less than six years old). No sunroof, so a helmet would be no problem. It was easy to see out of, maneuver, and park. It was big enough to carry all our stuff under the tonneau cover in the back, yet with the mirrors folded in, small enough to ease through the oldest, semi-paved goat paths that were masquerading as streets. Despite all of that, I would have no qualms about pulling up to a restaurant in it, regardless of whether that restaurant had two Michelin stars or two Michelin tires in front.
Was it perfect? No. First and foremost, the steering was the heaviest I’ve ever experienced in a BMW, and this was coupled with all the steering feel of the Lusitania. Yes, I am well aware that the Lusitania is a corroded hulk at the bottom of the Celtic Sea, but the analogy still holds. A different steering rack might help the problem, but something else needs fixing first: The electro-nannies.
Sweet Yoda on a unicorn were they intrusive. And there were so many of them. Driving was like being parented by the most critical, constipated, Calvinist stepmother in the universe. Sensors deemed every damned action unseemly, then set off annoyingly bizarre combinations of dings, clangs, fireworks, tidal waves, and Gregorian chants.
Every few seconds, something else would go off, and when it did, I had to take my eyes off the road to figure out if I was going to die or if Mommy’s knickers were just twisty. It was so bad—and so dangerously distracting—that a couple of miles outside of the airport grounds, I pulled to the side of the freeway and spent literally 40 minutes going through the menus, turning stuff off while my headache dissipated.
The worst? The lane “assist.” It was on full-tilt mode when I started driving, and it required such an effort to change lanes—or merge—that each attempt resulted in a rapacious lurch. I never did get that one all the way off, but I did dial it back enough that the urge to take a hatchet to the dashboard became manageable.3
I get it. The G20 3 Series is now too late in the product cycle to warrant a Federalized wagon. It’s been around since 2019. We’re due for a new one. Can we please get a wagon this time?
Maybe even . . . an electric one?
Please?
- If you missed the prior column defining the term, allow me to review: I am a wagon ho; someone with flexible virtue when it comes the acquisition of a long-roof vehicles. Which is why there is a Mercedes in my garage.
- By family, I mean my wife, who said, “Have you lost your ^%$#@&* mind?”
- There was one other random chime that went on and off occasionally for no apparent reason. No clue on that one
