My First BMW - I blame my grandmother
/by Dan Tackett
member-content@sdbmwcca.com
At some past time, we BMW enthusiasts didn’t have a Bimmer as one of our pastimes. Each of us came to BMW ownership in our own way. Maybe one caught our attention on the road or at a Cars and Coffee. Maybe a co-worker pulled up in a shiny 5 Series and you were inspired to get one too. Maybe you read an article or watched a YouTube video and just knew BMW was the right car for you. We all have our own stories.
I blame my grandmother.
For my 14th birthday, she got me a subscription to Motor Trend magazine. She knew I’d liked cars since I was a child. I could identify the make and model of most cars on the road. (To this day, I can tell the year model of every full-sized Chevy from 1955 to 1975. Not sure if I’m proud of that…). Every month I’d devour the latest issue from cover to cover, reveling in the distinctive character of European and American and Asian models. Like many of my generation, I couldn’t wait to get my driver’s license. My Dad actually taught me to drive at age 11 (RIP Qualcomm Stadium parking lot), and my sister’s boyfriend Frank (later her husband) taught me how to drive a manual at age 15. Long before we had online car shopping, I watched newspaper used car classifieds while saving up to buy my own car and ditch the family station wagon.
At age 17 I was able to afford my first car, a five year-old German import from Ford sold as the Mercury Capri. Like a European Mustang, but lighter and nimbler, with a four cylinder and 4 speed. I bought my second car from Frank. He went through LOTS of cars, and I coveted his muscle car with a snarling V8, Muncie 4-speed and Positraction. My blood was never more red. I had it repainted, adding gold racing stripes over a deep brown metallic. It looked great. But I made the mistake of driving my sister’s Volvo 242. I was amazed at the difference of a smooth hydraulic clutch and internal-linkage transmission. So mature, so sophisticated, nothing like the “pushing a screwdriver through a bucket of rocks” of my Muncie. It was slow and it was ugly, but the driving experience taught me that engineering made a huge difference in feel. Combined with all of the articles I’d read, I was drawn to the concept of sports car handling paired with the subtlety and practicality of a sedan. While I couldn’t afford the gorgeous 3.0CS I saw in magazine ads (“Bavarian Cream”), I just knew that a BMW was the right car for me.
New or slightly used BMWs were unaffordable while going to college and working part-time, but I finally found a way to become a BMW owner. In a wrecking yard. I bought a nine year-old salvaged 2002 that took a hit to the front end. It was complete and ran, but it needed a lot of work. So, before I’d ever even driven a BMW, I had a wrecked one flatbedded home with the confidence that I could turn it into the car of my dreams. It was like adopting a sick, scraggly puppy. My friends thought I was crazy to replace a fast, shiny car with this sad little box that got punched in the nose.
Still living with my parents while in college, I commandeered their garage for months to complete the project. To stay motivated, I sketched a drawing of my 2002 aspiration and had an artist at the Del Mar Fair paint it onto a t-shirt (which I still have). A new nose panel came from Cunningham BMW, at that time a new dealership in El Cajon. A used fender, hood, bumper and grilles were sourced at wrecking yards. I bought fiberglass fender flares to give the 2002 enough clearance for 7” wide wheels. Under the guidance of Frank, I learned a lot about mechanical and body work. Installing the flares required grinding the fender area to bare metal and using structural adhesive to mount them, temporarily held in by wood screws to be removed once it set up. The inner fender was bent to match the shape of the flare and clear the wider tires, then sealed and undercoated. A steel patch panel was fabricated and welded to eliminate the exhaust cutout in the rear valence since I was using center-mounted exhaust tips, a detail that made me proud. I installed a Corbeau racing driver’s seat and leather steering wheel (to replace the bus-sized stock wheel). With the bodywork still in-process, I did an autocross in the primered 2002, looking ugly, but a harbinger of a passion to come.
The final bodywork was left to a professional, smoothly integrating the fender flares and adding exterior undercoating, that bumpy finish under the paint, in all of the right places. I always knew I would paint it blue, but I drew inspiration for the final paint design from the BMW CSLs that had recently raced in IMSA. Before the now-ubiquitous M badge, BMW Motorsport colors could be found on the circular logo and in the tri-color stripes of the race cars. I decided to paint the whole car Bavarian blue, adding the Motorsport red and violet colors atop the fenders and doors and across the air dam. I outlined the stripes with black pinstriping as a bold detail. I was thrilled to see how the visions in my head evolved into the final form of my 2002.
This story would have a happier ending if I had kept my first BMW for a long time. One day, while parked on a busy street, I returned to my Motorsport-inspired 2002 to find a note tucked under the windshield wiper. Someone saw it there and really wanted to buy it. I hesitated, having realized a dream with this car. But, as a strapped college student, his offer was more money than I’d ever seen at that point. I knew the engine was tired, and I also knew I had neither the money nor skills needed to do a rebuild. Practicality won out over emotion. I called the guy and grudgingly accepted his offer.
EPILOGUE: Selling the 2002 enabled me to buy a three year-old Capri, a special-edition with a V6 and a fraction of the 2002’s miles. One year later, BMW CCA held its only Oktoberfest in San Diego. If only I’d been a member then and still had the 2002, it would have been a turning point for me. I still regret that neither happened, but hindsight is so last year. It would be four years before I owned another BMW, an E12 528i, and that’s when I joined the Club. Looking back now, after owning more than 25 BMWs, BMW CCA membership has provided many of my best friendships and best memories.
Thanks, grandma.
