Short Take Road Test
It’s no secret that we love BMWs. Indeed, browse any auto-enthusiast message board, and you’ll no doubt read about the piles of fresh $100 bills that arrive in our office every month from some German dude named Bayerische M. Werke. The reality, though, is that bribes are unnecessary, especially in the case of the sensational 3-series. It’s the benchmark vehicle for a benchmark company and a car we’ve called “terrific,” “magical,” “world-class,” “definitive,” and “a wing-footed god.” (Although even we admit that that last one might be a bit much.)
Today, we add a new descriptor to our 3-series vocabulary: torquey sumbitch. For 2009, BMW has finally seen fit to offer a compression-ignition 3 in the U.S., gifting on us its twin-turbo 3.0-liter diesel engine, which pumps out a goodly sum of power (265 horsepower @ 4200 rpm) and a wicked level of twist (425 pound-feet @ 1750 rpm). Compared with a regular 335i sedan, which boasts 300 horsepower and 300 pound-feet of torque, the 335d has 42 percent more torque while sacrificing just 12 percent in the power department. That, friends, is the sort of compromise we can live with.
That Old Familiar Feeling
Once you slide the gear selector into drive—the 335d is only available with a six-speed automatic—you’ll see what we mean. Mashing the throttle unleashes a fusillade of torque down the driveshaft, and the nearly immediate availability of same allows the 335d to churn its way to 60 mph in 5.7 seconds and cover the quarter-mile in 14.2 seconds at 100 mph. We think the 335d feels even quicker. (A 335i manual sedan accomplishes the 0-to-60 and quarter-mile runs in 4.8 seconds and 13.5 seconds at 106 mph, respectively.)
The rest of the 335d experience is typical 3-series: perfect steering, sublime body control, strong braking performance (161 feet from 70 to 0 mph), and unparalleled ride quality. In fact, beyond the immense torque and abbreviated tach—redline is 5000 rpm—you’d never even know this is a diesel, especially with the windows up. Little noise clatters its way into the cabin, and our noses picked up no trace of diesel’s unmistakable scent. Even with the windows down, this engine still sounds good. It has a throatier growl than BMW’s gas-fired sixes and none of the click-clack harshness that characterizes most Americans’ idea of a diesel soundtrack.
