I love BMW's
Recently I was watching an ad for a brand-new Nissan Z-whatever.
The combination of the song, the jump cuts from one car color to another, the shifting of the car - oh man oh man. But even after all that, it was ultimately a Nissan.
A Japanese car.
A car with no soul.
My daddy didn't raise no fool.
As a child, he raised me to believe that the only cars that truly mattered in the world were German. To this day, he likes to still tell the story about how as a young child I volunteered this information: "Dad, there are only two cars in the world to drive: Mercedes and Porsche."
What bothers me most about this comment that I made is that I failed to mention BMW. While the Porsche comment is easily explained by his ownership of a 924, I am unclear as to why I thought Mercedes took precedence over a BMW.
Children say the darndest things.
These days, I own a VW. In fact, I am on my 4th VW, having started with a Bug, then to a Jetta, another Jetta, and now a Passat. I love my VW, but my next move from here is definitely to BMW.
A few months ago, I was pretty convinced that buying a new BMW was my best option. For reasons that will go unexplained here, buying a new car was going to probably keep me from getting my current car from being, uh, removed from my possession.
I figured if I was going to go through that much trauma, I might as well get the car I really wanted: A BMW Z4 convertible. Metallic blue. Tan interior. Black top. Bling bling wheels and heated seats. Hot damn.
I had gone to the BMW dealership on a cold and rainy day, figuring that this is the best time to test drive a convertible. Of course you're going to LOVE it on a warm summer day, but it's going to be annoying if it's raining.
Turns out, it wasn't all the annoying. Unfortunately.
This was love.
I left the dealership with payment options in hand and a dilemma of whether or not I should really buy a convertible BMW - a car that doesn't even have front-wheel drive in a state which is dominated by SUV's and snow.
In times like these, I thought it was best to consult my good friend and shopping comrade, GerRee.
GerRee wasn't too happy to hear I was wanted to buy a BMW. She somehow thought I was trying to buy it for an "image". I honestly think that sometime during her childhood she was beaten while her parents said, "NO GERMAN CARS!" because she sure as hell seems to have something against them. She seems to find them unnecessary, fancy-schmancy, high-and-mighty - you know, those things that BMW's certainly are not.
BMW's - also known as "Basic Marin Wheels" in the California county in which I was born - are truly practical cars. You go to Europe, and hell, these cars are TAXI's. No one looks at you and thinks, "Wow, a BMW! Hot damn!" They think, "Wow, good choice, 4-years of free mainteance, great idea."
But GerRee thought otherwise. If I bought the "Honda of Germany", I was somehow uppity.
Whatever.
It was time to do a reality-check. I was taking her to the dealership because A, I needed her there, and B, she needed to be there. This was like having your parents meet your fiance.
GerRee had to meet the love of my life.
As the salesperson pulled my true love to the curb to be test-driven, GerRee's whole body seemed to change upon appearance of this metallic blue Z4. I could almost hear her thoughts of "What the hell am I doing here at some damn BMW dealership, my god, this is so...OH MY LORD LOOK AT THE CONVERTIBLE." As GerRee took the first turn at driving the car, I could feel her heart racing, her blood pumping, her once well-grounded beliefs crumbling away. For once, she was actually quiet. As the car roared and she shifted it like a well-known lover, I asked, "Well...?"
She paused for a moment, attempted to get the drool back in her mouth, and said, "This car is damn nice" but quickly added, as if it mattered, "And there is no way in hell you should get this car."
I smiled, knowing I had won this battle. Despite her protests, she knew why I loved this car. She had finally understood that BMW wasn't about money, it was about driving something with a soul.
As it turns out, it wasn't a good financial decision to buy a new car. Though I walked away from the Z4, I knew that it had not been a total loss. Maybe I hadn't gotten a new BMW, but GerRee had finally come to understand why a BMW is so damn great.
And I will get a BMW one day. Mark my Blog. I will.
The combination of the song, the jump cuts from one car color to another, the shifting of the car - oh man oh man. But even after all that, it was ultimately a Nissan.
A Japanese car.
A car with no soul.
My daddy didn't raise no fool.
As a child, he raised me to believe that the only cars that truly mattered in the world were German. To this day, he likes to still tell the story about how as a young child I volunteered this information: "Dad, there are only two cars in the world to drive: Mercedes and Porsche."
What bothers me most about this comment that I made is that I failed to mention BMW. While the Porsche comment is easily explained by his ownership of a 924, I am unclear as to why I thought Mercedes took precedence over a BMW.
Children say the darndest things.
These days, I own a VW. In fact, I am on my 4th VW, having started with a Bug, then to a Jetta, another Jetta, and now a Passat. I love my VW, but my next move from here is definitely to BMW.
A few months ago, I was pretty convinced that buying a new BMW was my best option. For reasons that will go unexplained here, buying a new car was going to probably keep me from getting my current car from being, uh, removed from my possession.
I figured if I was going to go through that much trauma, I might as well get the car I really wanted: A BMW Z4 convertible. Metallic blue. Tan interior. Black top. Bling bling wheels and heated seats. Hot damn.
I had gone to the BMW dealership on a cold and rainy day, figuring that this is the best time to test drive a convertible. Of course you're going to LOVE it on a warm summer day, but it's going to be annoying if it's raining.
Turns out, it wasn't all the annoying. Unfortunately.
This was love.
I left the dealership with payment options in hand and a dilemma of whether or not I should really buy a convertible BMW - a car that doesn't even have front-wheel drive in a state which is dominated by SUV's and snow.
In times like these, I thought it was best to consult my good friend and shopping comrade, GerRee.
GerRee wasn't too happy to hear I was wanted to buy a BMW. She somehow thought I was trying to buy it for an "image". I honestly think that sometime during her childhood she was beaten while her parents said, "NO GERMAN CARS!" because she sure as hell seems to have something against them. She seems to find them unnecessary, fancy-schmancy, high-and-mighty - you know, those things that BMW's certainly are not.
BMW's - also known as "Basic Marin Wheels" in the California county in which I was born - are truly practical cars. You go to Europe, and hell, these cars are TAXI's. No one looks at you and thinks, "Wow, a BMW! Hot damn!" They think, "Wow, good choice, 4-years of free mainteance, great idea."
But GerRee thought otherwise. If I bought the "Honda of Germany", I was somehow uppity.
Whatever.
It was time to do a reality-check. I was taking her to the dealership because A, I needed her there, and B, she needed to be there. This was like having your parents meet your fiance.
GerRee had to meet the love of my life.
As the salesperson pulled my true love to the curb to be test-driven, GerRee's whole body seemed to change upon appearance of this metallic blue Z4. I could almost hear her thoughts of "What the hell am I doing here at some damn BMW dealership, my god, this is so...OH MY LORD LOOK AT THE CONVERTIBLE." As GerRee took the first turn at driving the car, I could feel her heart racing, her blood pumping, her once well-grounded beliefs crumbling away. For once, she was actually quiet. As the car roared and she shifted it like a well-known lover, I asked, "Well...?"
She paused for a moment, attempted to get the drool back in her mouth, and said, "This car is damn nice" but quickly added, as if it mattered, "And there is no way in hell you should get this car."
I smiled, knowing I had won this battle. Despite her protests, she knew why I loved this car. She had finally understood that BMW wasn't about money, it was about driving something with a soul.
As it turns out, it wasn't a good financial decision to buy a new car. Though I walked away from the Z4, I knew that it had not been a total loss. Maybe I hadn't gotten a new BMW, but GerRee had finally come to understand why a BMW is so damn great.
And I will get a BMW one day. Mark my Blog. I will.
posted by Ashley at 10:22 AM
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