Used Car Shopping, Yuppiemobile Edition: 2019 BMW 430i Gran Coupe

That damned new-car itch is back. I was hoping it would stay away, but it’s an irritating cyclical visitor that emerges out of nowhere at the 6-7 year mark–like a cicada–and just buzzes, buzzes, buzzes in the background. No good reason for it. The Fiesta ST is still a feisty little imp; the 4Runner does what we bought it to do, and the Camry drives as if new. But I’m weak; prone to dissatisfaction, and unable to entirely stifle the desire for more. So the eye wanders.

The Camry is the target here, the poor thing. It’s been a perfectly loyal servant, but in this world no good deed goes unpunished and six years in a 4-cylinder midsize sedan is still six years in a 4-cylinder midsize sedan. It’s wholesome and nutritious, but doesn’t satisfy the way something with a bit more lipid and salt does, you know?

What do I want, grasping brat that I am? What doesn’t exist, of course: a GTI longroof. A BMW 5 Series with a standard inline 6 and a sterling repair record. A Chevy SS that doesn’t average 17 mpg. A car that does everything perfectly all the time, and never leaves you wanting. The typical useless and stereotypical fantasies! In reality, I’m considering any non-electric sedan or low-slung 5-door with a big bump in engagement; power; noise control, and material quality. I’m not sure how much longer this will be possible in a world of crossovers and electrification, and that is making me nervous.

The quintessential 1990s Yuppiemobile. I wanted one. The parents were too smart.


 

Back in the good ol’ ’90s of my youth, when suburban drones like myself became too big for their britches, they started sniffing around Acura; Saab; BMW, and maybe even Mercedes dealerships for the enviable entry-level luxury sports sedan to signal their rising ability to take on debt. The BMW 328i was an aspirational car in 1996, and for good reason: it started at $33,000 against an average new car purchase price of $19,000. Now, the average is $50,000 and you have to check several expensive option boxes for a 330i to even hit that mark.

America’s eagerness to challenge the tensile strength of their finances with big expensive vehicles has greatly outpaced inflation. I remember when the Eddie Bauer Expedition hit the scenes: a gigantic plasticky truckwagon in leather cosplay that cost 3 Series money back when that was a big deal. It was a show of disposable income to ferry kids around suburbia in such a monstrosity. And boy, did we all want in on that game; the best-selling vehicles in America are now an even bigger truck class starting at $56,000 for the popular 4-door versions.

The prestige-brand sports sedan doesn’t convey much status in 2023. You’ll need a King Ranch badge at minimum, or one of those pig-faced $85,000 AMG GLE crossovers on 21-inch pie plates to make the same kind of statement today.

The harbinger of the F150 Crew Cab on every damn street corner today


 

Yuck!


 

Well, not me. My eye is roving back to the ’90s. I like my 4Runner (sometimes) because it’s plucked straight from that decade, and my aspirational vehicle is rooted there, too. No crossovers! No trucks! No electrification! A car. A nice one. A quick one. A used one; nice, quick cars lose a lot of value in short order now, and vehicle purchase price is one area where I’m quite happy to be below average.

The search begins. I’m in no hurry here; there are a half dozen candidates for which I will simply wait to appear in dealer inventories no more than 10 minutes from home. As they surface and I have time to roll by and pester the salesmen for a drive, I’ll tap out the results. Not sure if this will go anywhere; sometimes a test drive or two is enough to nip the bud and remind me that the grass is green enough on my side of the fence.

Right away I have one for you, an unexpected rarity: a 2019 BMW 430i XDrive Gran Coupe (coo-pay. Not pretentious at all).  Didn’t expect to see one of these for quite a while. This is the appealing liftback version of the F30 3 Series line. Neither a truncated hatchback nor full-length wagon, it’s the average of the two, with a long cargo floor and steeply raked glass that makes it almost indistinguishable from the sedan until you pop the back and watch the cargo area expand before your eyes. Reminds me fondly of Dad’s old ’79 Saab 900 turbo. I’ll never understand why this form of vehicle has been so unpopular, given the compromise-free way it increases the flexibility of a sedan.

It’s a tad less glamorous in white, sitting next to a bunch of Rogues at a Nissan dealer


 

I tried an F30 once, a sedan in lowest-possible-lease trim, and became prickly about the interior and some packaging issues despite liking the road manners.  This 430i has the optional sport seats; upgraded interior trim, and a liftback that bridges the gap between sedan and wagon without triggering the official Cult of the Longroof resale bump of the rare F30 estate. It’s a nicely-packaged and -specified car, and looked nearly brand new inside and out despite the 67,000 miles on the odometer. This one might change my mind on BMW’s most maligned 3 Series.

And indeed it earned back some goodwill. The sport seats on this car solve my venomous gripes about the wretched ones in the base F30. They’re exceptionally comfortable; supportive, and adjustable. The interior trim is far nicer, replacing the downmarket silver plastic with dark wood inlays and the monochrome black vinyl with deep blue leather. There are still a few cheap aspects, primarily on the center console where the chintzy monostable transmission joystick lives, but otherwise it’s a nice solid cabin. It’s amazing what a few checked option boxes can do. Of course, with BMW it’s amazing what a few checked option boxes cost the original owner.

Unfortunately, my opinion of its driving character is not as positive this time around. The 430i is a quick and capable machine, willing to inhale interstate and mountain highway, but I struggled to connect with the remote and heavy way it operates. The steering is every bit as numb as our Camry’s, while the effort and weighting feel even less natural in some situations. The decade-long lament for BMW’s lost road-feel is not an exaggeration; this helm is as dead as a doornail. The chassis isn’t all that lively or fun, either, because the car feels a bit heavy when changing direction despite an abundance of grip.

The remoteness continues with the engine. It delivers power when it wants to and how it wants to.  Your input on the pedal is a suggestion to be interpreted, and not a command to be followed.  The ZF 8-speed automatic is a sharp and intuitive operator, but the 2-liter turbo four hooked to it makes approximately 0.0 lb·ft off idle, and there’s nothing a transmission can do about that. Normal; Sport; whatever, the car leaves the line like a hippo waking up from a nap to charge an intruder. It’s 2 seconds of groggy target fixation followed by a burst of power. This lag would scare the bejeezus out of my wife the first time she tried to turn left against traffic the way she’s accustomed to doing. The way around it is to brake-torque with the left foot to produce some exhaust flow for the turbo, and it will then pop off the line like a spring. She’s not going to be interested in doing that.

Beyond the turbo lag, the engine is a spreadsheet ace. It’s quick and efficient: sixty in 5.5; nearly 100 mph through the quarter, and a 27 mpg combined EPA rating. That should be enough for anyone, but it rarely feels that fast seat-of-the-pants and it never feels very interesting. It sounds small and gritty, and not very enthusiastic about its job. It seems much happier surfing a low rpm torque wave in narrow rev bands than expressing itself across the tachometer. That’s great for an SUV, but strange in a sports sedan. Every time I visit a turbo four + automatic, I leave disappointed.  My lack of enthusiasm for the engine is a little troubling; there are three other cars on my list with 2-liter turbo fours.

I can’t overstate how much better these seats are than the base


 

Some of the above criticisms can be lessened by monkeying around in the drive modes and customizing suspension; steering weight, and transmission response settings. Sport mode makes the steering bizarrely heavy without restoring any feel, sharpens downshift response, and prevents the engine from vibrating the whole car at the 1,100-rpm lug of Normal mode. But then ride quality degrades and sends shivers and minor squeaks through the cabin. Fortunately, you can pick and choose, and configure the car into a pretty good daily driver with the suspension and steering in Normal and transmission in Sport. But this is an exercise in mitigating the car’s flaws rather than enjoying its strengths, and that’s a bit of a problem for an aspirational car.

So it’s not quite a sports sedan. It’s a low-end grand tourer with a few substantial powertrain and ride refinement issues. Is that what I want?

It still looks the part, so the steering and engine are a real shame


 

Slightly disappointed, I park and begin to examine it as the family car it needs to be. The front is plenty roomy, and comfortable port and starboard. The back seat is just a little tight. My knees aren’t quite touching the driver seat, but my head is brushing the outboard ceiling. I’ve got to keep in mind that the kids will be mutating into teenagers before too long and this might be half a size too small. I do like the liftback and flexible cargo area, and the skier in me nods with approval at the 40-20-40 flat-folding rear seatbacks. But under that floor is a bunch of styrofoam filler and no spare tire. It’s a 3,800-pound ‘compact’ car with a complicated battery installation in the trunk to keep 30 pounds off the nose, yet BMW nixed the spare tire for weight considerations.  Get ready for a lifetime of expensive and hard-riding run-flats.

So it’s now a flawed low-end grand tourer that may be a tad too small and is a full 67,000 miles closer to the BMW event horizon of expensive routine maintenance that could make those road trips a more worrisome affair.  Dang it, it’s slipping away again.  I really wanted to like this car…

Unconvinced about the Bimmer, I hop back in the Fiesta (which has a spare) and immediately realize it’s much easier to make a 2,700-pound car fun to drive than a 3,800-pounder. The BMW drives less like a premium sports car and more like someone installed lowering springs and a stiffer antiroll bar in our Camry. If I wanted that, Toyota offers the Camry TRD and Avalon TRD, which would get serviced less frequently and expensively at our local dealership.

So, I think the 430i is out of contention. That’s unfortunate, because it’s a genuinely nice car with numerous virtues, and I was drawn back to it for a reason. But it just didn’t quite deliver for me…again. It’s trying to be both a luxury car and an Ultimate Driving Machine™, and it inevitably landed in the compromised middle ground where outright desire is low and practical issues such as service costs and spare tires become important. Rather than promoting a sense of want, it made me appreciate both the Ford and the Toyota more because those cars seem less conflicted in their missions. That wasn’t supposed to happen.

It’s an inauspicious start to this exercise and bodes ill for a few other contenders, but we’ll see what next time brings.