Zander Drives Cars

For those of you who know, you know. For those of you who don’t, I’ll let you know: I don’t like BMW. I don’t. I could go on an anti-BMW rant right here, but you’ll most likely hear most of it in this review. To say it simply: I just don’t like them. I’m not a fan of how they look, how much money they are for the car, and the people who drive them (yes, it’s a tired argument but it damages the reputation of a brand, just ask Jeep and private school kids.) Anyway, here we go.

This BMW X3 X30i is the mid-range version of BMW’s popular X3 crossover. It sports a 1.9L inline 4 engine making 249 horsepower going to a lying all-wheel-drive system. This is an all-wheel-drive car in the same way that Olive Garden is an authentic Italian restaurant. Most of the power on this crossover goes to the front wheels and all-wheel drive is only activated when you’re in snow or on a field going to watch a horse race. Also, notice how I’m saying the word “crossover” instead of what BMW calls these, “Sports Activity Vehicles” or “SAVs.” That is the biggest load of marketing I’ve heard this decade. Here’s the thing, I have no hatred for crossovers, as I explained in my mini-article about how crossovers are the moneymaker among car companies, but for a brand like BMW, they should be trying harder. This car is no different to drive than a Kia Forte. And again, I can’t necessarily fault BMW for making crossovers, they’re the hot thing for car buyers right now, but you think that they would make something more exciting.

The interior of this X3 has the same interior as every other BMW which means that it looks okay until you start touching things, and then you realize that most of the car is plastic and the leather on the seats is rock hard and the wood has more plastic in it than a Kardashian. Fine, I’ll say something nice. The iDrive system is very nice and easy to use and it doesn’t have any major flaws that I can complain about. Ok, and the heated seats are nice, but granted every heated seat is a good heated seat in a Baltimore winter. There is decent back legroom and average-sized trunk space that has an automatic tailgate as well as line keep assist and different bongs and beeps to tell you what you’re doing wrong because it’s a German car.

The X3 drives like a small car. Granted, it is no bigger than a 3 series, but that doesn’t mean it’s a pleasant experience. The seats and ride on a BMW X3 are hard. They’re “getting into Yale from a public school” hard. You can feel every little bump on the road when you’re driving it. The roads near where I live are as smooth as you can get, and still, I find holes in the tarmac that can’t be seen with the naked eye. Putting the car into sport mode does the Satan-inspired deed of making the ride even harder, because “sports car,” and turns the speedometer and tachometer red, which is just dinner theatre. The X3 does handle well on tight back roads and feels planted when 10mph over the actual speed limit, but that’s what I expect a car to do. It is the “Ultimate Driving Machine.”

All in all, the X3 is a mundane automobile that you buy to signify that you have become something. You have a corner office in an all-glass building and you want something to show for it. It’s the type of car for someone who wants to eat healthier but still finds his way to a Chick-Fil-A on trips to business meetings across the Atlantic seaboard. It’s the car my father would drive. Maybe it’s because it is what my father drives. This is my dad’s car. I’m looking at that silver blob right now, outside my living room window. That being said, I can’t hate this car. It makes my dad happy because it’s his car he bought with his money. I can make fun of it all I want, but he likes it, and when you buy a car, you buy it because you like it. It’s like when your extended family member gets a drum set and you have to listen to them clumsily play it. You don’t like it at all, but you can’t hate them for something they’re proud of. Wait, I’m ending a piece about a BMW on a high note? No. I can’t. The BMW X3 gives me an excuse to drive like an ass-hat. Okay, now we’re done.