BMW 330i (E90) | Shed of the Week

We were going to have a £1,400 Mercedes E280 S124 estate on here today but Shed spoiled that by snapping it up himself as a spares donor for his own S124. 

You might think that smells a bit like insider trading, and there are plenty of PH bigwigs who would agree with you on that. Unfortunately, there is very little point in them launching an investigation into it because nobody at PH HQ knows where Shed lives. Even if they did he’d most likely have got away with it because, as the postmistress will confirm, Shed is a dab hand at internal inquiries.

Anyway, it’s no great loss because Shed has partially redeemed himself with this low-mile, low-owner, BMW 330i SE. As most of us know, the last two numbers in a 3 Series’s name tell us the number of litres under the bonnet. Well, they used to anyway. Shed hasn’t understood what model numbers mean since long before E63s were given 4.0-litre engines. He’s also not sure why EV manufacturers haven’t started incorporating range figures or kilowatt hours into their product names, you know, Hyundai Kona 225 or whatever the number might be, because all we’ve got at the moment is names and Shed thinks that the motoring public could do with a bit more help in understanding what they’re buying, or to be more accurate renting. 

Coming back to reality for a moment, when the E90 3 Series went on sale in the spring of 2005 it wasn’t massively praised by the press, mainly because it wasn’t that great looking. However, despite being physically larger than the old E46 it was also lighter than it and usefully bigger on the inside. On top of that, with the new straight-six motor pinched from the 630i the 330i was 27hp up on its predecessor. The torque was unchanged at 221lb ft at 2,500-4,000rpm but the E90’s relative lightness gave you an extra couple of mpg on the combined cycle, raising it to nearly 33mpg and twenty or so years later resulting in a UK vehicle tax bill of £395 a year.

All the usual BMW boxes for safe handling and creamy refinement were ticked in the E90 330i. The engine was honey-smooth and suitably raspy right up to 7,000rpm, 400rpm past the 254hp power peak. The ratios of the new six-speed manual box were quite long but the shifting action was excellent, helping you to achieve a nippy 0-62mph time of 6.1 seconds. DSC Plus was standard, a good thing as it kept your brakes always ready for action, and even the ride was good despite the run-flat tyres, but you didn’t want a car with Active Steering as its behaviour was a source of confusion, smothering the E90’s naturally sweet helm responses.

The private seller of this BMW tells us that it’s had just four owners, one of them being him, and that there is a full service history. He also tells us that he’s fitted new front brakes, that the Goodyear tyres are 50 per cent worn, and that the water pump is 5,000 miles old. These were known for failing at any point from 40,000 miles on. Starter motors were fragile, coils died, and valve covers could weep a little, usually as a result of snapped bolts. That might explain the single advisory for a non-excessive oil leak on last December’s MOT test. Oil filter gaskets could go too but not that often. The core engine was really solid. 

Elsewhere, seat sensors blew, triggering the airbag light. Door locks might fritz out along with window regulators. If you’re wondering what that paint colour is, unless Shed is very much mistaken (again) it’s Barrique Red, a kind of coppery browny burgundy-y colour that is both rare and, in what passes for Shed’s mind, attractive. It’s a nostalgia thing for him as it’s a reminder of his Dad’s maroon Ford Consul from the early 1960s. Shed loved that old bus with its column gearchange and full-width bench front seat, a cheerily sociable passenger accommodation design that he wishes more modern cars had, and indeed could have, what with gearlevers and other centrally placed hardware being pushed into obsolescence by the electrical revolution. Why not fit more humans in? That’s what he says.

Here’s another question Shed’s got, which is, will cabin wood also disappear in this thrilling new age of excited electrons? Why did they put wood in cars in the first place? Isn’t it just dead weight? If you want to evoke a homely atmosphere inside a car why not simply have wallpaper? Whatever, Shed thinks that the wood on this BMW might be poplar, which is something he won’t be when he gets home late for his tea tonight having spent too much time trying out his new S124’s lying-down space with you know who.