Unconditional Love: A BMW Story
As enthusiasts, BMWs are a major part of our lives, if not our primary interest. We sacrifice time and money to enjoy an experience either working on or driving our BMWs. For me, nearly every spare afternoon and weekend is spent either underneath my E30 or driving it across the country, which you’ve all read about regularly here in Turner Motorsport Weekly. However, I should say ‘did’ spend my afternoons and weekends under the E30. Last week, I sold the 24v swapped vert I’ve poured my soul into over the past several years. With that sale, it’s made me a bit reflective of what it means to both be a BMW enthusiast and what my identity became as a result of this car. This week, things are about to get introspective as I take you through an unforgettable relationship and what one BMW did for my life. | | | To begin this story, I need to take you back to 2014 when my BMW interest had just begun to take hold. At the time, I was daily driving an Infiniti G35 and had predominantly owned Nissan/Infiniti Z and G cars. I didn’t feel a real connection with them, but I enjoyed the power, enjoyed modifying them, and loved the Japanese culture that developed those platforms. To be honest, I still do, but it was at the end of that year that I was indoctrinated into BMW ownership through a close friend. One drive in his E36 M3 was all I needed to see the light. A few weeks later, we had purchased a handful of E30 projects together and set up shop in a mutual friend’s unused garage. | | | It was through that winter and into the next spring where I spent every free moment working on E30s that I felt a real connection to a car for the first time. Not that I didn’t enjoy the cars I’d owned before, all of which I still remember fondly, but that I had never had this reciprocity, this emotional feedback, from something inanimate before. I don’t honestly believe that ‘cars have souls,’ but I do think they have personalities. No two are the same and when you reach that point where you can sort of ‘communicate’ nonverbally with a car, you begin to recognize that car as something more than just a machine. It becomes a friend, you develop a relationship with it where both you and the car give and take from each other. | | | When I finally experienced that epiphany, I fell headlong into BMW enthusiasm. I had to learn all the history, all the heritage, and drink that BMW kool-aid. Soon, my coffee table was spilling over with Roundel issues, every piece of clothing I owned became BMW-focused, my identity became ‘Craig the BMW guy,’ or more specifically, ‘the E30 guy.’ | | | It was around the time I had embraced my new identity that my daily driven G35 was t-boned at an intersection by a driver who failed to see their red light. I was, ironically, on my way to meet a buyer for that car. I’d planned to sell the G35 and purchase an E36 M3 to daily and build. Unfortunately, the other driver’s insurance company compensated me far less than the agreed sale price my buyer and I had settled on together. Naturally, my plans had to change. | | | With two E30 projects already underway, multiple parts cars in our possession, and a local E30-specific parts yard one town over, I decided the next logical choice would be to purchase the best possible E30 I could find and daily drive it to replace my totaled Infiniti. I had the parts, and I’d spent the last year completely immersing myself in these cars, so I felt confident that driving a thirty-year-old BMW every day around Nashville made more sense than financing something new. So, I searched and found this 1988 325i cabriolet. | | | This particular E30 was low mileage, collector-owned its entire life, completely bone-stock, and its condition inside and out was spectacular. Showroom fresh. Perfect interior, crack-free dash, spotless paint, and all untouched except for the late-model plastic bumper retrofit. It was the perfect everyday driver for me. I planned to make it mechanically flawless and live that E30 lifestyle every single day. I would learn how much of a commitment that is thanks to this car. | | | The morning after I drove to pick it up, I dug into the suspension, brakes, and engine. I already had fresh brakes and a suspension rebuild kit along with some Koni adjustable dampers, H&R Race Springs, E9X drop hats, and a timing belt/cooling system service sitting around, so I wasted no time in refreshing my little vert. It was during that first weekend that I started to develop more than just a simple attraction to the lifestyle around daily driving a classic car. Anyone can buy something that is turn-key and ready to enjoy, but only an extremely confident, experienced, and idiotic person would put their faith in a car that had spent most of its life sitting in a collection as the car to depend on for everything. | | | I found that through that experience, I could begin to honestly call the car ‘mine.’ However, that gratifying realization did not come immediately. I was thrust into this needy relationship (by choice) and as I fixed up the E30s mechanical systems, I started to wonder if it was the right idea to choose a classic BMW as my daily. It seemed like every time I fixed something or refreshed a system, I would notice more the car needed. From the outside, it looked perfect, but underneath, twenty years of deferred maintenance had taken its toll, even with the low annual miles it had driven during that time. | | | This is where I began to see the similarities a relationship with a classic car has to a human relationship with a significant other. You have this perfect idea of what that relationship should be. From the outside, you see your partner, your car, as perfection. That relationship starts, generally speaking, from a purely superficial interest and physical attraction. As time goes on and you become more intimate, more open with each other, you begin to see all the work that it takes to have a healthy relationship. | | | The fact is, either you put in that work and see the bigger picture that is the happiness you receive from being a part of that relationship, or you focus on each piece of maintenance and resent them for it. But with that understanding comes a deeper connection, a relationship with a foundation built not on superficiality, but on an appreciation for their quirks, their imperfections, the little things you notice about them as you see your life become changed by their presence in it. To do that, though, it takes persistence, effort, and unconditional love. | | | For me, I pushed through. I saw the good times with the car, the friendships it had led me to, and the small business that my friend and I had grown from simply being the local guys who knew E30s. Suddenly, I had others relying on our experience to keep their E30s on the road, which made me appreciate mine that much more. I continued to perfect it all while helping others in the area do the same with theirs. My love for the platform grew and I felt like no amount of misfortune with my E30s would ever tip the balance of give and take. | | | Sadly, though, I did experience some form of tragedy. It was on a short road trip from Nashville to Chattanooga that the factory M20 blew up. It was a freak accident, no fault of mine or the car. The new timing belt tensioner snapped, it jumped time, destroyed the head, cracked the rockers, bent the valves, and punched holes in the pistons. That M20 was done for. I sat there at an intersection in Murfreesboro, waiting for my friend with his rollback to come to pick me up, and contemplated what my next moves would be. I was determined to bring the car back to life, that much was certain. It was just a matter of deciding how I would do it. | | | As luck would have it, I had already purchased everything for another of my E30s to complete a full M5X drivetrain conversion. It was all sitting around waiting for me to begin, which I had lazily put off over a few weeks. That procrastination would work to my advantage. I decided to swap it into the convertible rather than my other E30 project. I was able to take a week of vacation and complete the full build in my vert, which was my only reliable transportation. I spent nearly 100 hours that week working myself to exhaustion as I tore the car down and rebuilt it. This experience, working with one of my friends to fix my E30 and make it better than ever, was when I truly understood what I’d committed to. I never once thought ‘woe is me, my car is blown up.’ I never sulked, cursed myself, or even considered selling it. I rolled up my sleeves without question and set to work. | | | It’s that kind of determination that I had never seen in myself before. The willingness to stick with a relationship, regardless of the challenges, blind to the inconveniences, and driven by affection for something most people consider an appliance is what this E30 taught me. I could have easily parked it and built the other E30, but this vert somehow had burrowed under my skin and became special to me. This sentiment of commitment is something that persists with me to this day. I don’t see a problem and consider whether I should abandon the venture. I dive in, give it my full attention, and don’t think about how tough or time-consuming it is until I’ve finished. If something needs doing, I buckle down and do it. After all, to drop a relationship as the result of a major setback or disappointment would mean throwing away all the time, energy, and love you’ve invested to that point. | | | That mindset is what also flipped a switch in my head. Until that point with my E30, I had been a bit hesitant. I’d questioned myself about whether I’d made the right choice to invest my time and money into these cars, especially as my daily transportation. I laid awake at night stressing about the corner I’d backed myself into by putting all my chips into this one bet. When I finally finished wiring in the EWS and transponder on the M52, cranked it for the first time, and heard it rumble to life, I knew there would never be a mechanical challenge I couldn’t tackle. It suddenly wasn’t just some old BMW I was driving, now it was my old BMW that I knew down to every nut, bolt, bushing, mount, washer, and wire. It was a reflection of my dedication, of my interest, and a product of my love as well as the recipient of that love. It was an honest relationship between man and car, an unbreakable bond of trust between us that I would never let it down in my care for it, and it would never let me down as my transportation or source of pleasure. | | | Over the next year, that relationship continued to expand. My friend and I took working on other local BMW owners’ cars more seriously, we moved into an actual shop, developed a community, and continued our own projects. We were fueled by this incredible relationship I’d discovered through my E30 that in turn, was the foundation for so many other relationships we’d develop in the Nashville area. It was also the literal vehicle for change in my life as I realized that I would never be happy at my corporate job there in Nashville. It was the E30 that took me here to Turner Motorsport, it was the knowledge and experience it had given me that landed me this job, and it was that E30 that helped me find a new life away from my home in Nashville. | | | Because of this car, the lessons it taught me, the experiences we shared, and the friendships I made, I became a different version of me, the version of me that I always should have been. I can look at the years spent with this E30 as some of the most formative in my adult life and place the credit for so much growth and confidence squarely on that car. Not just any E30, as I have owned several, but this 1988 325i Cabrio specifically. It became as much a part of my identity as my own name. So how could I ever say goodbye to something like that? | | | As is often the case in life, nothing lasts forever. After years with the car, my interest in it never waned, but my desire to drive it did. I had gone overboard, blinded by the availability of parts and convenience this position at Turner Motorsport had afforded me, which meant the E30 was no longer comfortable on the street. As a convertible, it would never see track time, either, as I couldn’t sacrifice the pristine interior for a roll cage. There were only a few times that I chose to drive the car and they were under incredibly specific conditions. It had to be perfect weather; not too hot, nor too cold. I preferred to drive it on road trips rather than around town, as the manual steering and ABS delete made slow speed about town driving inconvenient. It was great to drive long-distance, even with the straight-piped exhaust and 3.73 LSD that whined away with all the solid mounts, but it wasn’t something I chose to drive regularly. Once it had passed on its daily-driven duties, it became a garage queen. | | | I’ve written about this before: no car deserves to spend its life sequestered away in some garage collecting dust purely for an owner to claim they have it. Cars are meant to be driven, to be enjoyed, and to be loved for their inherent qualities. If I was to truly believe in the relationship I had with my E30, I had to accept that I was no longer the person who could give it the love it deserves. More than that, the life that it has been responsible for establishing has created different needs that unfortunately do not include that car. Indirectly, this E30 is the reason I met the girl I know I’ll spend the rest of my life with. To build that life, the E30 had to make one final sacrifice. | | | Rather, it was more of an exchange of gifts. The E30 depended on me for the better part of the past decade to care for it, maintain it, fix it, perfect it, and love it. I depended on it for transportation, entertainment, and as my rolling resumé that delivered me to this career. As a final act, I was able to gift it new ownership with a father and son who will bond over a special E30 together. The car will see a young man learn to care for an antique that has this personality and history. It will see him become his own person in college and likely have a direct effect on who he becomes. It will represent a bond between him and his father as the appreciation for E30s is passed on from one generation to the next. It will be a source of adventure and memories that they will share for the rest of their lives as it continues its story. It will continue to be a fountain of lessons, the foundation for relationships, and a literal vehicle for change. | | | The E30 gave me one final gift as well. Thanks to my investment in it, the little vert demanded a premium price. Its last act was to be the funding for me to take the next steps in my life as I transition into a new phase. I’ll always cherish it as the physical representation of the transition into my professional adult life, but I’m not sad that I had to let it go. I’ll never lose the memories, adventures, friendships, and aspects of my life that it directly influenced or sparked. This E30 will always be a part of my life, even if it isn’t in my garage. It is, in many ways, the perfect relationship, even if it had to end. We gave each other equal trust and love in that relationship. As a final poetic end, it gave me the ability to grow into the next stage of my life and I gave it a new loving home where it can experience that same affection and be that source of change for another young man as he enters his adult life. | | | It’s always hard to say goodbye to something like that. To know that something is over and will never come back feels like losing a family member. Except, unlike with death, there is the knowledge that it will continue to provide the same kind of lessons, experiences, and entertainment that it did for you with its new owners. You can picture the smile on their face the first time they fix something, or imagine the friends they might make because of the car. However hard letting it go might be, that knowledge and those experiences you’ve shared will never leave. | | | Because no one can ever take that time away from me, and because this E30 helped shape me into a different person than I was when I built it, I did have to say goodbye. It’s now gone, safe and sound at its new home, leaving me with the memories of all the times I’ve sacrificed a weekend to fix it or anticipated a weekend driving it to an event. It's something that has molded me, has helped me discover who I am, and has cemented in me this love and respect for well-designed classic cars. It’s given me a dedication, a sense of commitment, that has helped me tackle so many challenges completely unrelated to the E30. As a result, I know the next car I decide to daily will likely be some old, beat-up, and neglected BMW that I’m uniquely qualified to nurse back to health. So, in a way, saying goodbye to this E30 is simply the chance for another BMW’s story to continue rather than rust away, forgotten. I’m not finished with E30s, this relationship was too special, but I’m also not bound and restricted by them. I’ve come to appreciate that, at the end of the day, a car is just a car. It’s the memories, lessons, and experiences you have with that car that make it special. Hopefully, they’re sentiments that remain a part of your personality and character. | | | With that, I’d like to ask any of you who have read this far what your experience has been. What was the moment that you knew BMWs were more than machines, that they’re something that could play a role in your life, your identity? Do you think you could say goodbye to something that sentimental in an effort to move forward, or would you stay where you are for the sake of a relationship? We’d love to hear your story. Share it with us at [email protected] and you may find yourself in a future edition of Turner Motorsport Weekly. | | | | |
