Dream car BMW 320: brutal end to a heavenly promise

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Brutal end to a heavenly promise

Dream car BMW 320: brutal end to a heavenly promise-Audi wants build 1-liter series

The new and the old: There are around 20 years between the two BMW 320s

Source: Martin U. K. Lengemann / Photo: Martin U. K. Lengemann

The BMW is like Radio Paradiso: you get the feeling that there cannot be any bad news. Unless something really bad happens. But who is expecting it?

D.he joke is old – and it only moves in the east: the Trabi is something of a brothel: you are ashamed when you go in, you are ashamed when you go out – but inside it is very pleasant. I’m driving through the former East Berlin. It is evening, the broad and somewhat broken streets of the capital towards Alexanderplatz are full. I’m barely getting anywhere. Ordinary cars surround me. Lots of small cars, Mazda, Opel, sedans, maybe a Passat, now and then Mercedes. More like mid-nineties or older. Stop-and-go. Ninety-eight two. Radio Paradiso. "Music was my first love" snaps around. Actually, I think the song is stupid. At least the lame beginning. But after that he gets better, I admit.

I don’t even want to look left and right because I have a feeling it might be boasting. I look ahead, sometimes at the dashboard, now and then in the mirror. On the high-tech steering wheel. I have to think of the old Trabi joke. He fits. Even if a little different. I’m sitting in a BMW. With Munich license plate. Only Stuttgart would be worse here.

320i, 170 PS, built in 2014, 2000 km driven. It smells of freshly processed leather. The beige seats with their figure-hugging shape are almost too beautiful to plop down inattentively. I try to relax. With the clean, light-colored floor mats, I briefly consider taking off my shoes. No, you don’t go barefoot.

Quickly into sixth gear

Dream car BMW 320: brutal end to a heavenly promise-Audi wants build 1-liter series

Not a millimeter is wasted: the BMW cockpit

Source: Martin U. K. Lengemann / Photo: Martin U. K. Lengemann

Everything I touch feels good, is the right size and consistency. Crisp is the awfully appropriate word I have to think of. I don’t like to let go of the gear knob, small and smooth, even if everyone is warning about it – gearbox damage. I do not care. It feels good to get going. Quickly up – and then quickly down again. Then quickly up again. Until the sixth. Even if it’s only 60 kilometers per hour. Driving at low revs is like deep relaxation. Only the stop function of the engine is annoying. I turn them off. The traffic reports: There are none. Free ride. Anyway, I think there are no traffic jams on Radio Paradiso.

I actually wanted to go home quickly. But there is no longer any reason. I feel like I am in a mobile living room. Granted, it’s a small one. But it doesn’t constrict. Or I am well entertained and therefore don’t notice anything.

The navigation device with multimedia options, some of which I don’t understand, plays the jukebox. I’m staying with Radio Paradiso, although the rotary switch is an equivalent touch alternative to the gear knob. Romantic, calm, decelerating. The moderator’s voice is soft and forgiving. It might just as well proclaim the victory of good against evil. And forever. The next love song is playing on Radio Paradiso. Ten Sharp, "You". With "I was always on the run" I give it a little gas.

Come Kant’s eternal peace?

This car is a promise. An I could if I wanted to. Or I-could-if-I-could. A sum of 170 hp fantasies that you cannot experience, but which are still stimulating. I own the object that can first make you happy and then addictive. A quick kick on the accelerator is like a drug that is difficult to get off. Radio Paradiso recommends “Be yourself”. I’m trying right now!

There is seldom anything better than driving in the dark and looking at the dashboard of a sporty car. A little Christmas, a little cockpit. The calm of the color and the dynamism of the display. At a glance. See right away what is going on and what the powerhouse is all about. On the left the speed, on the right the tachometer, on the bottom right the fuel display with the exact consumption. As always with BMW, everything is in the same place. Clever Conservatism: Emotions and Ancestral Wisdom. One could think that one reads Edmund Burke in Munich. The news is on at Radio Paradiso. No murder, no terror. I wonder if the moderator is a Kantian and is about to proclaim eternal peace.

I am sitting well now. The sportiest of all mid-range sedans as a place of calm and warmth. I feel a little uncomfortable, but I do. I turn on the seat heating. Two levels out of three. I don’t dare to do more than that. It’s probably also extremely environmentally unfriendly. And actually a luxury that nobody needs. But it’s good. At Radio Paradiso the weather is coming. Rain is not rain, but the promise that the sun will shine afterwards. And, no, it’s not getting cooler, there is just the next chance to put on the new jacket. I don’t know why they don’t mention heated seats.

Minimally invasive break-in

The streets up to Prenzlauer Berg are free. I can drive a little faster, accelerate discreetly and can overtake everyone. At the traffic lights anyway. BMW stop. Nothing new. With all my love for sporty driving, I have to admit that an automatic is the more elegant, floating variant. The four-cylinder feels like a well-trained competitive athlete, but the sound of the old, quiet straight-six is ​​unbeatable. But who cares about the sound? I am listening to Radio Paradiso. Bruno Mars sings "Count on me". And with the “child dentist”, even the dentist is fun.

I got home. The street where I have to park the car is very narrow. Hardly anything left at this time. You can only park backwards because otherwise you won’t be able to get out. The navigation device takes over. It is equipped with a video camera and shows me the entire area around the car. I am sure that it could also move the car into position on its own. I do it. As long as the camera is switched off, the radio must be silent. It’s a shame actually. Harry Nilsson’s "Without You" is one of my favorite songs.

Dream car BMW 320: brutal end to a heavenly promise-heavenly

Brutal fall from grace: the broken pane

Source: Wolfgang Scheida

That evening I was looking forward to the next day, to the drive through town and Radio Paradiso. It didn’t come to that. During the night the car was broken into and the navigation device, including the center console and seat heating buttons, removed. The work was “clean”, a window was smashed in a quasi-minimally invasive manner and everything that was high-tech was taken away. The police know this type of crime and, as they say, can do almost nothing. The perpetrators are professionals and would disappear with the loot towards Eastern Europe without a trace. I wonder if Radio Paradiso will report on it.

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