The 1992 BMW 325i Lives Up to the 3-Series Legend

From the September 1991 issue of Car and Driver.

The world is watching this car. Let’s face it, when Magic Johnson steps out onto the hardwood, the fans expect to see a performance that no fresh­-faced rookie could hope to deliver. When Tom Clancy publishes a new thriller, folks plan on staying up late with the reading lamp on. When Mick Jagger grabs hold of the mike, you know in your heart that it’s going to be party time.

And when the star in the limelight is an all-new BMW 3-series, the weight of expectations hangs heavily indeed. After all, this car has history behind it. We’re talk­ing about the descendant of the fabled 2002, the giant-killer sedan that inspired a cult of followers and put BMW on the map in the U.S. twenty years ago.

And don’t forget about how the upward­ly-mobiles made the previous 3-series a must-have trinket in the boom-boom 1980s.

The world is watching and waiting for another reason too. Today, showrooms everywhere are bursting with wannabes—­terrific sports sedans eager for a bite of BMW’s glory. The newcomers are mostly Japanese—the Infiniti G20, the Lexus ES250, the Nissan Maxima, the Acura Vigor, to name four—and there are a few American upstarts too, like the Ford Taurus SHO and the Chevy Lumina Z34. And they’re all awfully good. The old 325i, despite constant improvements, was about to become somebody else’s lunch meat.

Now for the good news: In an attempt to put some distance between itself and the wannabes, the Neiman-Marcus of sports sedans has gotten serious. No half measures this time around; BMW redesigned the 325i from bumper to bumper, in the process making it both more exciting and more practical. The all-new 325i, which went on sale here in June, has a new chassis with new rear suspension, a new and more pow­erful engine, and a sleek new four-door body (a two-door will arrive early next year) with more interior room and improved aerodynamics. About the only thing not changed is that it’s still rear-drive.

Let’s start with the obvious, the parts you can see. The 325i looks good in photos, but not half as stylish as it does in person. Gone forever is the old model’s boxy shape (thank goodness), replaced by slicked-back sheetmetal that says “made in Germany” and delivers a Cd of 0.33. And we can tell you this: People look at this car—a lot.

This 325i is still compact, ten inches shorter than a Honda Accord, but it is now reasonably roomy. Its wheelbase is up five inches, and the front wheels have been pushed to the far corners of the chassis, all of which opens up interior room consider­ably. The EPA’s interior-volume figures indicate about six percent more cabin space, but the improvement feels like three times that. The 325i finally qualifies as a passable four-passenger sedan; six-footers can ride in back for long distances.

No 3-series has ever been as handsome inside, either. The dash and door panels are tastefully sculptured (the old model’s door trim looked like spruced-up economy-car upholstery). Still, the 325i’s cabin is typi­cally German in its approach to luxury, which is to say restrained. The plastic used on the interior panels and dash is expensive-­looking but unyielding, the seats are park-­bench firm, and there’s no carpeting on the bottom of the door panels. A Lexus ES250’s interior, hardly an example of wretched excess, looks like a New Orleans cathouse by comparison.

Nor is there an abundance of labor-­saving devices at your fingertips. Power seats aren’t standard, and neither is a tilt steering wheel—though they will be avail­able later in the model run as part of a spe­cial luxury package. The driver’s window switch lacks the one-touch all-the-way-­down feature you can get in inexpensive cars like the Honda Civic.

Any shortage in convenience gear will be quickly forgotten once you take the wheel. There is joy here. The first thing you notice is that the businesslike interior layout works. You can see the clearly marked gauges easily. The driving position is near perfect, and the reach to the steering wheel is just right. All of the stalks, controls, knobs, and buttons are within easy reach and are easy to see (except the electric win­dow switches, which are spread too far apart on the center console).

Everything you touch in the cabin sends a single message back to your brain: “quali­ty.” Well, make that almost everything you touch. The lone exception to the cabin’s feelgood message is the glove box—which, unlike the huge storage compartments in previous Bimmers, is now a small crevice with a flimsy, ill-fitting plastic door.

The 325i drives so well, any sort of glove-box remorse vanishes before you’ve gone a block. Once again, the overriding impression is quality—the savory hum of the machinery, the smooth-as-silk feel of the major controls, the sensory reward of sure-footed handling.

The 325i is motivated by the same twin-cam 24-valve 2.5-liter in-line six as the larg­er 525i sedan—and we do mean motivated. The engine makes an impressive 189 hp at 5900 rpm. It’s a peaky motor, the kind you associate more often with sports cars, with maximum torque occurring at 4700 rpm—higher in the rev range than many engines’ horsepower peaks.

Which is to say, when you want to go, you have to have about 4000 rpm on the clock or the engine feels drowsy. Keep the revs up and the 325i is a rocket: It takes only 6.9 seconds to get to 60 mph and 15.3 sec­onds to cover the quarter-mile, at which point you are hauling buns to the tune of 91 mph. Not long ago we raved about muscle cars that could go that fast.

You get the proper soundtrack as stan­dard equipment, too. The 325i’s engine is a symphony of expensive-sounding whirring and humming, all muted to a whisper for your listening enjoyment. The whirring turns cat-angry when you twist the engine to the 6500-rpm redline, but it never strains.

You direct the symphony with a Getrag-­built five-speed manual gearbox and a pro­gressive clutch that make seamless gear-changing as easy as switching TV channels with your remote. A four-speed automatic is available, but if you want the full measure of joy that the engine has to offer, take the five-speed.

Speaking of joy, the 325i’s chassis offers plenty in that regard. It cruises com­fortably, soaking up the big swells and thumping over the tar strips. Its steering is crisp and accurate, its standard ABS brakes powerful. The 325i enjoys hustling along twisty, tree-lined roads and feels as sure­footed as a Sherpa—even when you’re cor­nering so hard the passengers are wide-eyed and rigid in their seats. It sets no new stan­dards in handling, but the standards it holds to are plenty high.

There are, however, a couple of things the 325i should do better. It wanders too much on long, straight stretches of high­way. And it tops out at only 128 mph. The identical car sold in Europe goes 143 mph, but BMW programs the computers of cars bound for America to limit top speed. BMW says only that it’s “worried that U.S. buyers might fit replacement tires with an insufficient speed rating.” Sounds flimsy to us. We think BMW of North America is feeling the cold wind of liability litigation blowing. Understandable, perhaps, in today’s litigious climate.

Whatever BMW’s reason for lopping 15 mph off the 325i’s top speed, it has done the rest of the job right. The new small Bimmer feels like fine machinery whether you’re cruising through downtown or whipping along the open road at a full gallop. It’s roomy enough for family-car use and quick enough on its feet to plaster a grin on your face when you go up-tempo on two-lanes. Its twin-cam six emits a lusty cry. And the 325i looks almost as pricey as it is. In short, it has soul.

We also think it’s got the legs on the wannabes again. Not by all that much, maybe not for long. But for now, at least, you pay more and you get more. Come to think of it, that’s another thing we’ve learned to expect of BMWs.

Expectations confirmed.