27 Nov 06
Five years ago, I had a BMW 330d Touring for a year, at the end of which I was so utterly smitten, I tried to buy it. Any of you unlucky enough to know a motoring journalist will know we are borderline phobic about spending our own money on cars but this was one I felt I could not be without.
It came to nothing. By then the world outside had cottoned on to what I'd known from the start - that this was as good a candidate for best car in the real world as you could name - and its second-hand value was far beyond what I could afford. I've missed its easy nature, silken performance, fabulous range and the sheer pleasure that awaited every drive ever since.
Which means, in my mind at least, this new 335d Touring has one hell of an act to follow. On paper, it should do it with ease, for its specification is almost ethereally enticing - on the road, well, we shall see.
But as it's only just arrived with next to no miles on the clock and I have yet to work out the navigation system let alone its voice-activated this and Bluetoothed that, let's instead consider for a minute its proposition.
