BMW 2002

A lot of deutschemarks have gone over 'the exchange counter since we tagged the BMW 1600 "the world's best $2500 sedan." (February, 1967.) That was back in the days when you could buy all the deutschemarks you wanted for a quarter a piece. Now, after last fall's revaluation, you can't touch a mark for 27 cents, and the same car, well, OK, the same car with 400 more ccs and a handful of options that any "best" car should have, will set you back a solid $3500—if you insist on a radio and an automatic transmission you'll have to un­roll about four grand.

As a $3500-sedan the BMW 2002 isn't looking too tall. For all of the things that you seek in a sedan—comfort, room and general convenience of operation—you could do better, for less money, with a Peugeot 504 or a Saab 99 or any number of American intermediates like an Olds Cutlass or a Chevelle. Competition is tough, both in price and in design, in the sedan business, particularly now in a time when smaller, more efficient automobiles are the only high fliers in the marketplace. Considering the delicacies available in the $3000-3500 sedan range, the BMW 2002 is hard pressed to keep its nose above water.

But there are shallower depths in which the 2002 can operate quite happily. Forget about the sedan body and pretend that it's a sports car—a transformation that's almost automatic in your mind anyway after you've driven it a mile or two. With the possible exception of the new Datsun 240Z (which is not yet available for testing), the BMW will run the wheels off any of the under-$4000 sports cars without half trying. It is more powerful and it handles better.

Of course, forgetting about the BMW's sedan body is pure fantasy—the upright, block-like shape is too definite to be con­jured or contemplated into something more Italianesque. It is, and always will be, a sedan with all of the attendant styling minuses and convenience pluses that that entails. But, spiritually if not stylistically, it is a sedan with a difference, a sedan that can beat the sports cars at the game they invented. That is the secret of the BMW's Uniqueness, and if it continues to flourish in the market at its newly inflated price, it will he for that reason alone.

Although its price is far more jarring than its visual impact, the 2002 is a plainly honest machine, a kind of Bavarian Road Runner without the humorous overlay. It's the absolute hot setup in Germany where over-30 fat-cats bully their way through schools of VWs on the autobahnen with much flashing of lights and cold, sideways glances. Opels and Fords are driven by those who have renounced solid German tech­nology in favor of vogueish, Detroit-in­spired sheet metal, and the young man seek­ing to leave his mark in the well-understood games of traffic saves his money for a BMW 2002, or more likely the vitamin-enriched 2002 TI. From the outside the two seem identical, but the TI generates 22 more horsepower with the aid of a pair of 2-bbl side-draft Solexes and more compression, and its bigger stronger brakes. stronger spindles and wider wheels strongly suggest the purpose of its existence. With the TI, maybe an orange one that sticks out of the somber greys, steel blues and whites of Teutonic traffic like one of the Weathermen at a Police Ball, you are the man to be reckoned with in anything but a top-end dash down the autobahn. And as if the TI wasn't enough, those overkill specialists down in BMW's dyno rooms have just put the finish­ing touches on the TII The extra "I" de­notes fuel injection, with bigger exhaust valves and more compression included as frosting. When last we were in Munich the only TII engine available for testing was not in a 2002 but in the larger 2000 sedan. With 500 pounds extra weight its accelera­tion wasn't much better than a 2002 TI, but it would crank right past the redline in fourth gear with nonchalance. In the smaller car it will be devastating.

Meanwhile, back in the States, where exhaust emission controls are the law of the land, you have to settle for the plain vanilla 2002—no "T"s or "I"s are permitted. BMW engineers consider the TI a hopeless case when it comes to meeting the emission specs but are optimistic about the injected model —optimistic but non-committal when you ask when. Those same engineers shake their heads in mild disbelief at the thought of Americans classifying the "de-toxed" 1600 and 2002 as high performance automobiles. They feel that the necessary air pump and restrictions in ignition timing have hobbled the 2002 almost to the level of the European 1600 and rendered the 1600 a total invalid.

The engineers, of course, have numbers to back up their pessimism about the power available in the models imported to the U.S., but the 2002 is still very definitely a per­formance car, simply because its capabilities are not based solely on engine output. It's an agility specialist with controls that ac­curately telegraph back to the driver enough about what's going on so that he can com­fortably operate near the limits. Its compact dimensions, more than a foot shorter than a Maverick, allow you to squeeze through bottlenecks that no American car could even consider, and the driver's fantastic view of the world around takes the guesswork out of the squeezing operation.

The 2002 is happiest in point A to point B dashes, and the more trying the circumstances the better. The ride is not soft but admirably controlled. The car is sure-footed on rough roads and you'll find yourself up-shifting, downshifting, keeping the revs up and angling through corners at speeds that will make passengers wish they had taken a bus and left the driving to anybody but you. If you are at all susceptible to fantasizing, the 2002 will have you believing that every little outing is a special stage of international rally and prestige of the entire factory rests upon your shoulders. And before you've spent very many miles behind the wheel you'll discover that you can heel-and toe like you've been doing it all your life. Yes, heel-and-toe, that anatomically impos­sible operation that has resulted in flat spot­ted tires and graunched gears every time You've tried it, is as easy as closing a door in the 2002. Such is not the stuff sedans are made of, but then we've already established that the 2002 is not a sedan.

For this test we have a pair of 2002 non­-sedans—one with the recently introduced automatic transmission and the other with a standard 4-speed manual. By testing both cars together we could see exactly what ef­fect the automatic has on performance and on the BMW's dashing personality.