"Hysteria" probably overstates the reaction, but parking a
BMW Z3 roadster curbside one Saturday night back in March of 1996 along
Miami's South Beach -- the car had yet to go on sale -- created an
instantaneous envy and saliva festival.
It's 15 months later, and the Z3 still gets gawks, but now you don't
have to pry yuppies off the hood with a spatula. That is now the
predicament of Porsche Boxster owners and perhaps a few Mercedes-Benz SLK
owners with rural addresses.
A major attraction of the Z3 is its $29,320 base price, and that
includes power for the windows, door locks, side mirrors, and seats, plus
air conditioning and cruise control. Our car totaled $31,827 after we
opted for beige-leather upholstery ($1150), heated seats ($500), a
metallic Montreal Blue paint job ($475), the on-board computer that
reveals fuel economy, range, outside temperature, and so on ($300), and
two floor mats at $41 apiece.
We were not thrilled by the promise of the powerplant, a 1.8-liter four
from the 3-series bin that had been bored and stroked to 1.9 liters. In
full-shout mode, it put out an unadventurous-sounding 138 horses and 133
pound-feet of torque. (More like it is the 2.8 six-cylinder that appeared
within a year.)
BMW has never offered the sort of thunderous muffler music produced by
some American cars to announce their macho, but that didn't stop the crew
here from complaining about our Z3's lack of a "distinct exhaust
note." Phillips pointed out the "amusing Lilliputian exhaust
note. Nearly silent, unlike a Miata; then, at high revs, it sounds like,
well, a Tercel. Weird." Idzikowski spoke for many: "Way too
wimpy."
You couldn't stop the Miata comparisons, the enthusiast stereotypes
here immediately siding with that Japanese throwback to English sports-car
simplicity. A comparably equipped MX-5 Miata is $24,215, although the Z3
is roomier, quieter, more refined, and, folks, it's a Bimmer.
The radio wasn't up to Bimmer standards. Its speakers are tinny.
Schroeder put it this way: "Radio blows. Blow it outta there. Someone
call Alpine."
Some found the manual top easy to use, others complained when it took
more than one arm to raise or lower it. The rear window, made of plastic
and unzippable, seemed murky to look through from the start, and
complaints would grow.
But soon it was summer, and our Z3 was busy, indeed. This car tells you
when it wants its oil changed. On the instrument panel just below the
odometer readout, five green LED lights in a row drop off one by one as
the miles go by; when they're all gone, a yellow one appears, along with
one of two announcements: "Oil Service" or
"Inspection." Ignore it, and a red light appears. Our first call
for fresh oil came on July 10, at 9552 miles. A Bloomfield Hills dealer
added six quarts of oil and a filter for just $24, although we were hit
with an hour's labor ($68) and a can of Krex oil treatment ($5) that we
hadn't asked for. One oil change: $97. (Do-it-yourselfers will need a $50
tool to reset the computer's maintenance clock.) Maintenance alternates
between a simple oil change and a lengthier full inspection at intervals
that, for us, occurred roughly every 9500 miles.
That summer, the air conditioner could barely keep up. After four days
in the shop, a new condenser was ordered, which was installed a month
later at 18,328 miles during the car's first "Inspection I"
service. That included a huge list of look-sees and cost $202, plus $15
for six quarts of fresh oil, $2.50 for washer solvent, and $9 for two
wiper blades (these are tallied under normal wear). The bill was $247.
We began having a peculiar handling problem. "Hit a bump midway
through a curve, and the Z3's all over the road," said Schroeder.
Said another tester: "Cornering is fantastic, but if you encounter
bumps in the middle of hard cornering or braking, hang on!" BMW had
heard the same complaints on some early cars. It found that the rear ride
height of our car, which was supposed to be 22.76 inches (measured from
the top of the wheel-well arch to the bottom of the wheel's rim, with a
full tank and 330 pounds' worth of passengers), was in fact 22.11 inches.
Two springs were replaced without charge in early November.
As another dreadful Michigan winter closed in, the Z3's popularity
waned. Two pea-sized fray spots appeared on the convertible top at the
edge of one supporting rod. The door locks were sticky, fussy to open.
There were rattles in the cockpit. On February 2, the fuel gauge went
cuckoo; the tank would be full, but the gauge might show a quarter-tank,
and when the driver tried to fill up, he'd find it already full. No fun in
18-degree weather. The dealer replaced the sending unit and fuel pump
under warranty. By February 18, the driver's door lock wouldn't budge, so
the dealer replaced both door handles and lock assemblies and worked on
the rattles. We were back to the dealer on March 3 (at 25,676 miles) with
the fuel gauge still lying to us. The dealer yanked the entire instrument
cluster and replaced it. All fixes were under warranty.
Meanwhile, we improved the Z3's appeal on ice with four Yokohama AVS S4
snow tires ($636), which boosted grip substantially. Up here in the
tundra, these tires are a necessity.
Shipped off to Bedard's hideout in Florida in March (27,500 miles), the
"Check Engine" warning light began flashing on and off for no
reason, then the tachometer freaked out, bouncing all over the place. This
weirdness coincided with the yellow dash light ordering an oil service,
but a dealer in Palm Harbor stiffed us by performing an "Inspection
II" service, which was $203. It needed the oil and filter swap, but
it was way early for new plugs, tranny oil, an air cleaner, and other
parts. We ate a $381 bill. (To keep the accounting straight, we ordered a
normal oil change at the next service interval.)
The Florida dealer decided the car's schizophrenic warning lights were
caused by a failed oxygen sensor. By the time the ordered parts came in we
were back in Michigan, where the Z3 spent four days away from home in
April while the dealer replaced the hazard switch and the oxygen sensor.
The only way to cure the crazy tach was to -- gulp! -- replace the entire
instrument cluster again. All work was covered by the warranty.
On Cinco de Mayo, at 38,954 miles, our Z3 got a final $83 oil change.
Some cad here had also crunched the front air dam and bumper cover, and
replacing them cost us $865. Service costs over almost 40,000 miles cost
$799, about four times what our $17,168 long-term Miata cost in 1991 over
30,000 miles. Our blue Z3 got 27 miles to the gallon. The Boxster and the
SLK will be pricey to service, too, although neither is a throwback to
rough-hewn sports cars the way the Z3 is.
Our test car was quicker a year later. Where it had once turned 0 to 60
in 8.0 seconds and 0 to 100 in 26.4 seconds, it now did them in 7.8 and
24.5, and the quarter-mile time dropped from 16.2 to 16.0. The Z3 also
stopped nine feet earlier from 70 to 0 mph (169 feet new, 160 feet at
40,000 miles).
The Z3 was a popular ride here. It's sleek, an attention getter, a
civilizing treatment of the roughhouse sports-car ideal. We prefer the
2.8-liter six model, but it sends the price heavenward by more than $7000,
to $36,508. Still, that's about five grand cheaper than the Boxster and
the SLK.
