Prams, high chairs, forty changes of baby clothes, luggage and other young family paraphernalia make a daunting pile near the front door of your house. Enough of a pile to make you want to buy a station wagon. Except that, as a rule, stations wagon are deeply unfashionable devices, especially the affordable ones.
This dilemma lead many families, just like mine, to buy a traditional four wheel drive a few years ago. They were popular, and their popularity lead to plenty of competition on price and equipment levels. Not only that, Australia's quirky import laws leave an imported 4WD with a much smaller amount of import duty compared to a normal car. In our case the relatively small Jeep Cherokee seemed to fit our bill and turned out to be a faithful servant, if not exactly the choice of wheels when you felt like tearing up your favourite bit of twisty road. The Jeep's dynamic shortcomings didn't bother me much, my wife happily drove the thing and I had a motley and ever-changing collection of other cars to play with.
Not that the Cherokee isn't fun, it's kind of like a drunken party friend, always up to attempt something silly but never quite having the coordination to pull it off. The Jeep's short wheelbase made it hop over speed humps, its grunty engine made car park tyre squealing and axle hopping an ever-present diversion. It settled down nicely on the highway though, which was the main purpose we bought it for. Trouble was, those highway trips got less frequent and common sense dictated that we took less and less stuff with us when we did travel.
So the novated lease came to an end and discussion started about its replacement. Daimler-Chrysler sent us a bogus "cheque" for $1000 if we bought another of their fine products, but we didn't really want another Cherokee. "Normal sedan, please", came the request, due to the inability of our now 3.5 year old to egress the vehicle without help. With another child coming, I was leaning toward something larger in the back anyway - the rear compartment of a Cherokee is tiny.
Coincidentally, Ford Australia were heavily into their AU Falcon runout and my mind started ticking over with the possibilities of a V8. Ford's Windsor 5.0 litre engine might be ancient, but there is a plethora of add-ons available for it, including exotic stuff like alloy heads, 4 bolt main bearing caps and camshafts with more lift than Otis Elevator Incorporated. I've been critical of the AU Falcon looks in the past, but the idea of a V8 Fairmont (with different bonnet treatment) didn't seem too bad. Given that you can buy a leather slathered interior and plenty of electrical gadgets (including traction control), I thought I had found our next car.
The runout bonuses, combined with a fleet discount had a Fairmont Ghia V8 at around $10,000 off the list price, under $40,000 Australian dollars (without stamp duty and registration) and looking like something of a bargain. There were a few around to choose from, the dealers were pretty keen on trading out the Jeep so the residual was completely covered, I could see no potential problems.
That was until we looked at them. The Fairmont Ghia is the top of Ford Australia's Falcon line of passenger cars, overlapping with some long wheelbase versions that, for normal families, are pointlessly huge. Ford manages to cover territory with the same car from around $29,000 to over $50,000 (RRP) simply by switching trim, features and powertrains, although the basic car doesn't change too much underneath. The Ghia does feature an uprated 6 cylinder engine (or optional V8) and has independent rear suspension as standard, rather than the pedestrian "Watts Link" solid axle. Extra sound proofing, more electrical toys - it should feel like a different vehicle to the poverty pack version. It partly succeeds. The (optional) full leather trim is thick and feels great, there is a different steering wheel to hold and an impressively loud stereo. The standard Fairmont trim (a combination of leather and cloth) isn't so impressive but it's better than the normal car. Thick carpets, gadget lights and mirrors attempt to complete the illusion that you aren't buying a taxi. So that's the good part.
The paint quality looks good from a distance - no obvious signs of orange peel, sag or paint runs - but up close there is a surprising amount of dirt to be found in the paint on almost every panel. Not unforgiveable, but even the (not very well) painted Cherokee was of an obviously higher standard. The dashboard, replete with digital displays not found in the base models, is made of cheap plastic, a large round section in the centre of the dashboard is particularly bad. The previous model was better and that isn't saying much. The car, on close inspection, looked insubstantial.
The test drive revealed some surprises. This particular car (a "VCT" single overhead cam 6 cylinder, pumping out 169kW and coupled to a 4 speed automatic) certainly had no shortage of grunt, but it also had no shortage of moaning noise coming through the firewall. In previous lives, we had owned a 6 cylinder TE Cortina (vintage 1977) and I could have sworn it was the same noise. Even with the fancy valvegear that the VCT engine receives over the standard car, pushing the tachometer past 4500 rpm was an exercise in futility, mechanical sympathy on the driver's behalf being the culprit. The salesman explained that the V8 was quieter. Quieter than what? I have to admit I found it surprising that the level of interior noise was so high. Jeeps are noisy and we had kind of hoped to trade in that aspect of the car with the car itself.
The soft suspension of a Fairmont Ghia seems in constant conflict with the grunt of the engine, which itself is fighting the gearbox. Pile into a corner, loading up the outside tyres and everything feels relatively predictable until the automatic decides to clunk down a gear unexpectedly, putting the car further off balance and encouraging a more sedate mode of driving. It doesn't want to play at all. I'm sure there's an option box to be ticked somewhere that includes harder springs and shock absorbers, but that still wouldn't fix the clunky mid-corner kickdown that always seems to happen 3 seconds after you nail the throttle. Perhaps driving it with the automatic lever shoved somewhere more predictable might be more effective, but I don't ever remember having to do that with our old Alfa 164. Even the Jeep - its Torqueflite box a relic of the 1960's - wasn't this bad.
So we left the dealership something less than impressed with Ford's finest, although I wasn't quite ready to give up on the idea.
Back at home, we discussed our options again, only this time I tried listening instead of fitting my preconceptions about the car "we" should drive. Quite enlightening it was, too.
"The Fairmont was big, I usually only drive to school and back," she said.
"Well, yeah, but what about visiting our families? It's a lot of driving and we take a lot of gear."
"Dave, more often than not they come to us now. Couldn't we fly?"
Now there's a thought.
"So what do you want?"
"Something small, like a BMW or something. An automatic. Not the new one, the last model," she said.
Uh oh. That sounded pretty specific.
I don't like BMW's. The affordable ones are either dangerously underpowered 3 series, or big, ratty, old 5 and 7 series barges with expensive, factory-trained mechanics following them around sniffing for your wallet. Besides, only plonkers buy them for the image. Flash wheels for impressing people, not for driving.
"I'm not sure I want to spend that much money," I said warily.
"Doesn't have to be new, does it?" she said, circling her prey. Fact is, it didn't need to be new thanks to the benevolence of my employer.
"I'll look at the budget again. I guess we could fly on our holidays if the car was, well, old."
"That's OK," she said.
There are no shortage of BMW dealers in Sydney, factory and pretend. There's also no shortage of automatic, E36 BMW's in Sydney, you can pretty much take your pick if you're willing to stump up the cash. First cab off the rank was a '95 318i. It had a slightly prickled nose from a poor touch up job and an inflated price tag due to the low 30,000km it had covered since new. The interior looked durable, in fact it looked brand new. Salesman aboard, I drove out of the car yard ready to drop some preconceptions.
Out on the road, I pushed the accelerator to the floor, to be greeted by another moaning engine, gutless this time, struggling with the power-sapping automatic and leaving me scared that I'd be rammed from behind by an inattentive bicyclist. The BMW certainly had no problem with sudden downshifts, it didn't seem to matter which gear it was in, nothing of consequence ever happened.
I asked the salesman whether there might be something wrong with it. "No, no. You're just not used to it, these cars go really well!" I instantly missed the uncoordinated, tyre squealing lurch that the Cherokee generated with the same amount of accelerator travel.
I didn't miss the Jeep's other manners though. The little 3 series had gorgeous brakes, firm talkative steering and composure over speed bumps I didn't think was possible. It turned in nicely, not with the alacrity of an MX-5 but it didn't feel skittish either. The engine never generated much velocity, but there was little reason to brake as the car uncomplainingly went exactly where it was pointed.
Why BMW crippled it with that horrid engine is a total mystery. You can't thrash it, it doesn't rev fast enough. You can't tickle it along on the torque because it doesn't have any. You just have to sit back and wait, foot shoved to the floor, the vacuum gauge on the dashboard permanently stuck on "30L/100Km" as you pray that something happens before something goes bang under the bonnet. The engine doesn't even look nice, like a little aluminium box somebody discarded in the engine bay, like a balled up hunk of aluminium foil from a barbeque that somebody left behind. It doesn't help that the engine is canted over to one side, as if in agony at hauling the heavy car around.
Other 318i's that we drove were similar, all beautifully built and fabulous to steer and all similarly crippled with an engine you'd be embarrassed to hook up to a camping generator. It didn't seem to matter whether they had travelled 30,000 or 100,000km, they were all still tight, rattle free and reassuring. They all plodded along the road, engines complaining and automatics slurring.
Here lies the potential 3 series buyer's problem. The 318i is a fabulous chassis waiting for an engine. The 323i /328i is a fabulous chassis and engine waiting for a huge amount of money I didn't want to spend...
The intended owner was even more smitten with the cars once she saw just how well they were built and how well they seemed to last even with high distances on the odometer, leaving me in somewhat of a bind. Subaru Forester, Nissan Maxima, Ford Mondeo, Mazda 626 - none of them impressed in the same way. Toyota Camry's get expensive when optioned up and drive like a cardigan looks. Holden Commodores are built even more cheaply than Falcons, the standard V6 is unconvincing and the big Chevrolet V8 has a waiting list. Mitsubishi Magnas seem to be the best of the Australian built cars, but lose value at a frightening rate. Old Saab's feel like old cars. Golfs and Audis start out feeling chunky and solid at the start but don't seem to stay that way with a few kilometres under the tyres.
Our nominal 40K budget buys a new Subaru Imprezza WRX, but she wanted an automatic and I can't stand the looks of the wagon version. There's no point buying one unless it's the ball-tearing manual gearbox version, the automatic has less power and would probably be impossible to unload at resale time.
There had to be a compromise somewhere. Hiding in amongst the seemingly hundreds of 318i's there was, in the form of the discontinued 320i. Six cylinder engine (25kW more than the 318i), 5 speed automatic rather than 4. Most of them older than I would have liked, but happily they mostly cost about the same as the equivalent year 318i anyway. The little six is sweet, sounds nicely complex although it doesn't have the sheer authority of the bigger engines. The 5 speed automatic allows lower gearing, solving most of
the acceleration problems (it still isn't fast though, and prefers to take off in a rather leisurely 2nd gear). Our daughter was able to climb in and out by herself. The boot isn't big but there is enough space for two large adults in the back. Out of a choice of several 320i ranging from around $25,000 to $35,000 (dealer prices, due to the ease of trading the Jeep rather than waiting weeks to sell it privately), she chose an older, tidier car with less gadgets, "less to go wrong, more money left over." Eminently sensible.
"Are you sure? Don't want to compare it with the Fairmont again?" I said.
I'd spotted one across the road from the BMW dealer. Used this time, although VCT engined instead of the V8 I wanted. The odometer read 40,000km but the paintwork seemed to shout triple that. The boot had been leaking, leaving that distinctive wet carpet smell. The leather and cloth interior was badly wrinkled, the cheap plastic dashboard was scratched. Trim around the windows was falling off. It drove like it looked. It felt tired only 18 months after rolling off the assembly line. The BMW's with double, triple the amount of kilometres under their belt all still felt tight, hunkered-down and rattle free. No contest then. A Falcon/Fairmont might be a relatively cheap car to buy new, but get a flood of ex-fleet cars onto the market and factor in depreciation. It's depressing enough when you can get the fleet discount, you would have to be insane to buy one privately. The overall lack of durability leaves a pretty undesirable prospect.
Victory was hers. The Jeep is on its way and a grey 320i has taken its place. So now, to the outside world, we're even bigger fashion victims than before. I'm still not entirely convinced it's a good idea myself, but we'll judge that by how much money for airfares is left after the service costs of an older BMW take their toll.
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