This month marks my 40th anniversary as a BMW car-owner. For those 40 years, the BMWs that I have been fortunate enough to own have been excellent, and by excellent I mean fun and reliable—and excellent.
The story thus far: I paid fifteen hundred bucks for a running 2003 530i stick with the sport package. Its main demerit was the absence of the original lovely Style 42 cross-spoke alloys. In their place was a truly objectionable set of corroded Beyerns, like four cruel changelings. I railed and raged at the obvious intervention of a callous, uncaring god in my otherwise perfect world.
Every year at about this time, an alarming number of my friends go crazy and start paying attention to college basketball, which is as good a reason as any to gamble, I suppose. (Hot tip: Put your money on a school with blue uniforms.) But since I consider even professional basketball even more annoying than their farm leagues, I welcome the opening of the real sporting season.
The budget refinishing of my Style 42 wheels will have to wait, as the media-blasting quote from the fellow on Craigslist that sounded too good to be true—$50 to $60 for the set of four—turned out to be, uh, too good to be true (“It’ll take me a while to get to those”).
Shed a tear. It happened. My mom finally replaced her 1997 528i. This is sad in so many ways, not least because the car had a manual transmission. Yes, that matters.