Lately, I have been unhappy about my ownership experience with my 330i Touring. As I write this, it is just shy of the 150,000-mile milestone, and it has twice left me stranded—once with a bad battery terminal, and another time with a bad starter motor. Many would say that I might expect to be stranded by a ten-year-old car that is nearing the end of its useful life. In any case, despite proactive maintenance, I found myself watching the Barrique Red wagon being carted off on a flatbed, which left a pit in my stomach as I worried about future repair bills. Such are the pains that I have endured with my wagon lately—but again, they probably should not have surprised me, given its vintage. I am right in the thick of a time when major repairs come due.
But right now I want to laud the performance and convenience of my 330i Touring. In a moment of need for my family, the little BMW delivered on every front I could have asked of it.
In early October, news of Hurricane Matthew brewing in the Atlantic Ocean began to make waves in our home in Jacksonville, Florida. As the days passed, the news worsened for the First Coast; Jacksonville was likely to take a direct hit from a hurricane for the first time since Hurricane Dora in 1964. Given the 52-year hiatus in absorbing the full fury of a tropical storm, we, and many of our friends and neighbors, were skeptical of the need to do more than buy batteries, water, and a few days’ worth of food to keep on hand.
Our blind optimism was shot to pieces when the city designated our neighborhood as an evacuation zone, given its proximity to the beach and intercoastal waterways. It was time to leave.
Reluctantly but quickly, we packed all that we deemed valuable and headed toward Northeastern Georgia to stay with relatives. As we set out on Thursday afternoon up the long, damp stretch of I-95 North, we had managed to pack a two-month-old baby and all his supplies, two miserable cats, a baby stroller, a baby sleeper, a few days’ worth of clothes, food, bottled water, and a box of financial documents that we hoped we would not need to dive into for insurance. Our other car, a 428i coupe, was packed into the garage, with the fervent hope that it would not be the last time we drove it.
It is a very humbling experience to pack a car full of only the most valuable items you can carry, with the looming uncertainty of what will happen to your home.
We arrived in Augusta the day before the storm was scheduled to hit, and the news seemed to get worse and worse for Jacksonville. We spent much of the next two days watching the Weather Channel; by the end of the week, I could have told you how many blackheads Jim Cantore had in his nose.
By the time the storm hit, it had managed to at least slow to a Category Three, with Daytona Beach taking the brunt of the hit. Videos coming in from friends who stuck it out in Jacksonville Beach, a few miles from our house, showed dunes overrun by massive waves, and standing water three blocks deep. Those videos did not ease our minds, but we would have to wait to understand the potential damage. We decided to return home after being notified of restored power, and after texting with neighbors who had begun to venture back to the neighborhood.
We departed for home two days after the storm hit, reloading the BMW wagon as before—though now heavier with a few boxes of diapers and wipes. Our trip home, normally a four-hour jaunt, became a nearly seven-hour journey as we encountered downed trees, heavy traffic, and closed Interstates in southeastern Georgia. Arriving home, we were overjoyed to find that the greatest damage was some downed limbs and a collapsed fence in the back yard; we were very lucky compared to many neighbors and friends who suffered wind and water damage.
The 428i was sitting in the garage, just as we left it.
We were thankful that, with a new baby and a new house, Hurricane Matthew did little to disrupt our lives, other than inconvenience us for a few days. That point was reinforced as we drove through the local beach towns, assessing the mess left behind.
It later dawned on me that maybe I should be thankful for my old BMW wagon, whose decreased reliability I’ve so harped on lately. For all my past complaining, the Touring did absolutely everything we asked of it—and more. When I needed a car to safely and reliability drive us to Georgia, it did. When we sat in the car for seven hours, the heated seats soothed our aching backs. When I needed to drown out the sound of one cat whining and the other hissing, the Logic 7 sound system did the trick.
The little BMW functioned flawlessly, despite all my fault-finding. My hat is off to BMW for building a car that came through with the performance when we needed it, coupled with the luxury that made the journey far more tolerable. Our wagon managed to be one less thing we needed to worry about in an already difficult situation; the Touring may have found a more permanent spot in the garage.
I think that perhaps the Ultimate Evacuation Machine is a fitting moniker.—Andrew Murphy
