The turbocharged, go-faster Volvo 850T-5 caused something of a stir on its release in the early nineties. For a start, it was a Volvo, and Volvo were more associated with ever-so-sensible brick shaped cars best suited for carrying elderly people and antiques. Then there was the power, the front-wheel-drive layout, the modernity of those foot-tall taillamps, something of a break for the staid old firm. Then, in ’94, Volvo took the 850 racing in the British Touring Car Championship. And, as if taking the piss out of everybody, the combatant they fielded was an estate car – and it did rather well.
Nowadays, fast estate cars are nothing new. Everybody latched onto the idea during the nineties and, er, zeroties. Today the Germans have fast estate cars coming out of their ears, BMW with the M5, Mercedes with the E63 and Audi with the RS6, but most of them wear their hearts on their sleeve. They are all festooned with extra grilles, shouty badges, look-at-me wheels and they all emit thunderous exhaust notes when provoked.
Altogether more delicious were the factory sleepers out there, and this was one of the best.
Edit: Since writing this I remembered that North America is a land of 300hp Camrys and atomic minivans, but the same isn’t yet the case in Britain. As you were.
What you see before you is a BMW 3-Series Touring. It’s an SE model, the “ordinary” one. Stylistically it makes no allusion towards dynamism, it forgoes all the deep chin spoilers and side-skirts of its M-Sport badged brethren. These “I drive a right sporty car, me” models are the scourge of the outside lane of British motorways. In Le Mans Blue they’re a constant, threatening presence in our rear view mirrors, their gormless, middle-management pilots desperate to reach their next sales conference early enough to get a seat near the water cooler. M-Sports are almost always 320d’s too, displaying the look of performance while still meeting fleet-managers approval for low CO2 output and the attendant tax advantages that brings.
The SE is above all that nonsense. The look is of bland, unpretentious quality. It makes no particular statement other than whatever you read into the blue and white propeller badge. The fact that it’s a Touring, the station wagon variant, adds to the sense of maturity that it exudes. This particular example, in Sparkling Graphite metallic makes no more rear-view announcements than a cooking 318i, except for the chrome grille that signifies six engine cylinders. Even the wheels are nothing special, they were only a few hundred quid upgrade for the basic 3-Series SE, and were standard equipment with this particular engine.
Only when you suddenly get overtaken, blisteringly quickly, will you spot the twin chrome exhaust outlets and realise what you’ve been passed by.
The car you see before you has a similar appeal. Being an estate car, and in a restrained colour nobody quite expects the twin-turbocharged diesel thrust it can deliver. Two hundred and eighty six easy horsepower, five hundred and sixty Newton metres of torque, with none of the histrionics of the highly strung petrol fueled machinery you usually expect this sort of performance from.
It’s a fabulously stress-free experience. Overtaking is incredibly safe – passing maneouvres are dispatched in a heartbeat thanks to the obligatory steptronic gearbox which responds obediently and without hesitation. You just point and squirt. The ride quality, too, is excellent. While the E90 3-series still receives short shrift for its run-flat tyres, with mere 17-inch wheels the SE ride is firm rather than bone-splintering, and far more yielding than the M-Sport models with their take-no-prisoners rubber ‘n damping combo.
The great irony, though, is that the 335d is actually more fun without the M-Sport package. Sure, the ‘sportier’ trim level has wider tyres for more grip and a sharper turn-in, as well as stiffer springs for less body roll, both of which comply with general sporting car rules. But the SE provides more entertainment because you more readily sense that you’re reaching the limits. In fact, with torrents of torque available directly to the rear tyres, the limits are breached as and when you want.
It makes having fun incredibly easy. This car is a mobile drift academy, roundabouts become your playground; but you better get friendly with your local tyre-fitter.
Inside it’s the usual 3-Series story. The E90’s was never the most loved of BMW dashboards, it can all seem a little stark and plain looking, but I reckon it’s time for a little re-evaluation. Yes, it’s plain in execution, but the ergonomics are first rate and the materials first class. This particular example boasts BMW’s not universally loved iDrive controller, something many still fail to get along with, but which I infinitely prefer to fingerprint spattered touch-screen interfaces, it’s far more tactile than those can ever be. Things would be far better if iDrive wasn’t optimised for left-hand-drive markets, I’m right-handed, and wouldn’t dream of trying to work my computer mouse with my left hand, but iDrive offers no choice.
There are some genuine master-strokes, though. As if an acknowledgement to the shortcomings of any long-winded menu system, the Infotainment system has eight programmable direct-access keys, which can be assigned to a favourite radio station, satnav address or frequently used phone number. Brilliantly, a capacitive sensor recognizes your finger as you touch the button and displays the command you’re about to call upon before you press it in the conventional manner. You get the impression that BMW have put a lot of thought into things, and also have access to some very clever technology indeed. Good cupholders in the front, too.
It’s an intoxicating package all round, this one. Subtlety to the point of near-invisibility on the outside, quiet efficiency inside yet with apocalyptic firepower on tap from the engineroom. Being an estate car, it’s even practical to boot.
(All images copyright Chris Haining / Hooniverse 2011)
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