1980 BMW 733i Tested: Roll Out the Superlatives

From the June 1980 issue of Car and Driver.

Ladies and gentlemen, you will please cue up your Superman tapes, main title passage, please. We are here to tell you about one of those rare cars, of which a few come to each generation, whose presence and capabilities completely transcend even the uppermost limits of accepted goodness. To harness yourself into this car is to lace up Seven League Boots. To drive it well, with skill, con­centration, and energy, is to unleash the miracle of our own genius for progress in transportation. Each time we drive the 733i, then relinquish the key to a neophyte, we find ourselves looking over our shoulders at the one taking its wheel for the first time. Each of us won­ders privately if he is alone in his per­ception of this car’s capacity to satisfy our wildest dreams of accomplishment in sedandom. But then the newly initiat­ed driver returns, gets out of the car, and pinches himself. As we have pinched ourselves in the same situation. Aha, we are not alone!

We on the staff are expected to foam some at the mouth when a piece like the 733i comes along, but when the boss does, too, well, jeez… When the origi­nal 733i was first made available to us two years ago, frankly The Man’s praise button short-circuited in the full-on po­sition. “I’m saved,” he said. “I, David E. Davis, Jr., self-appointed high priest of Bimmer Madness in North America, can finally stop feeling guilty about not lik­ing the 630CSi coupe. Forget the coupe! The magnificent 7-series sedans have arrived in America and God’s in his heaven and all’s right with the world! Damn, what a car…this is Bim­mer Infinity.”

Right again, Boss-man. What we need here is an automatic typesetter with a key marked “Superlatives.” That is the nature of this 733i. It is so good, it makes you feel guilty when you note something even slightly negative about it. And while it’s nice to dabble around town in, you will never discover its true delights until you take it out in the open, where the road unreels like a bal­loon with a hole punched in it. Knowing that, we quit Los Angeles and set off for Monterey up the coast on Highway 1 in our Seven League Boots, sidestepping the highway patrol by sixth sense and practiced eye. This is necessary because this car makes you feel like a somnolent old coot if you’re not out there thump­ing on it for all you’re worth every sec­ond the wheels are turning.

BMW has done hand-to-hand combat with the rudiments and the complexities of suspension design, and has come out a winner. The result is a fine cream of consistency, a refinement in the way the car goes about its most trying business that carries through to almost every as­pect of its behavior. The 733i offers a thoroughly civilized give-and-take that returns at least what you put into it. It feels better than the Mercedes 450SEL in its way of going, although it will be interesting to see how the new S-class Mercedes, coming next year, will com­pare. BMW’s biggest advance in the 733i’s all-independent suspension came in front at its damper-strut linkage. It is located by two separate positioning links instead of the normal (and less ef­ficient) one. Suspension geometry is thus improved, providing less self-steer­ing when the wheels are unequally load­ed, more self-centering for the steering wheel, and less dive under braking.

The 733i goes around corners like an overgrown open-wheeled race car, yet it sacrifices nothing in the way of ride quality. It just turns in and tracks around with record low amounts of un­dersteer for a big sedan. It encourages you and serves devotedly in the tightest of switchbacks, and it cuts beautifully clean arcs through great, long sweepers. It is light on its feet and possessed of startling maneuverability and agility, and while its passage can be breathtak­ing from outside, inside, the 733i pro­fesses absolute calmness and gives time for clearheaded perception. BMW’s characteristic trailing-throttle oversteer, a normal byproduct of semi-trailing-arm rear suspension, has been throttled back, although it’s still provokable. Log­ic has it that the 733i’s very low levels of initial and final understeer help reduce final oversteer because, even entering corners more quickly, it will track around with less addition of steering lock (which tends to initiate an outward swing of the tail with the turning in of the nose), and have much less need to close the throttle (thus avoiding the in­herent steering outward of the semi­-trailed rear wheels), which is the likely way to slow down a car that first threat­ens to go straight on in corners.

Dips and bumps pass under BMW’s suspension calibrations like low water under a tall bridge, the 733i flowing over the road as if it were the world’s fastest hovercraft. Its directional stabili­ty seems somehow related to the path and character of unrefracted light, un­wavering and true. The degree of steer­ing assist is determined by road speed, and its subjective feel may outqualify Mercedes’ as the best in the world. The BMW’s steering has slightly less feel, but it also take less effort, nearly perfect effort. We dream about having this no­-muss, no-fuss steering response in se­dans, and discovering it here feels as reassuring and familiar as pocketing your favorite penknife in the morning.

Thank God for that. California was just entering its record-breaking rain-­flood-and-mudslide season when we picked up the 733i. Amid the stop-and-­go traffic and the impending, soggy collapse of the coastal range, the car never missed a beat. Its single flaw, in the face of winds that tore shrieks from damp young ladies clutching disemboweled umbrellas that flopped like one-legged chickens, was a tendency for it to be bat­ted around by these stout gusts. This is Mother Nature’s elbow in the ribs of the 733i’s superior attitude. Cars that like to change direction when you tell them to sometimes like to do so when they haven’t been told, you see, and a stabi­lizing air dam would be a welcome addition beneath the front bumper.

Beyond that, the smooth attitude transitions and fishbowl visibility of the 733i make working traffic a breeze. And its Continental radials, in spite of minor out-of-roundness, slice through rainwa­ter and cling to sunbaked pavement with equal finesse, though nothing in their appearance would suggest this combination of virtues. BMW has some­how magically wedded these tires to its suspension, and the 733i flashes as surely up Highway 1 in streaming rain as lesser cars do when it’s bone-dry. And in the dry, HO-HO! the 733i plays first chair. It has some tendency to vault through quick cycles of vertical motion over repeated and highly exaggerated ripples, but its speed must be nigh on to ungodly to make this happen, and it re­covers quickly. Most other cars would already have inserted themselves in ditches.

When trouble does start, the brakes are at your side. They are hydraulically assisted, shunning the more popular vacuum boost, so they put the squeeze on very quickly, without deliberation but with great consistency. They have tremendous feel, easily defining the ul­timate possible degree of braking under every hard-charging circumstance we could induce on our run up the gantlet of Pacific Coast Highway. The brakes are progressive, direct, and firm, a blessing that shuns disguise. They are also called for.

It is no surprise that the engine is a thing of wonder. This is a BMW. It is expected, and BMW has smote our gov­ernment’s emissions and mileage re­quirements with research and develop­ment. The research has turned up a three-way catalyst, a Lambda-sensor, and unleaded fuel, and the develop­ment is horsepower. The expensive and sophisticated six-cylinder engine it’s housed in is the mechanical embodiment of absolute insistence. It has a pas­sion for accelerating the countryside past as if it were wired to a well-man­nered-but-berserk, Jekyll-and-Hyde rhe­ostat. It pulls beautifully through the gears, and when the power band of its overhead cam comes on, it begins to howl. It says you could never ask too much. And lordy, does it give. You may wonder that 3.2 liters can wallop 3600 pounds of prime Bavarian comfort up to 60 mph in 8.2 seconds, and cover the quarter-mile in 16.3 seconds at 84 mph, but believe it. The 6400-rpm redline, if you’re in the grasp of neck-and-neck fe­ver, won’t bid you goodbye in third gear until 97 mph, and running flat-scat over the open road packs your sensory load­ings to overflowing. This raises impolite questions such as, “How come other automakers can’t seem to do this?” and, un­fortunately, “Do they even want to?” BMW’s EPA mileage number is 16 mpg, but we’d say you could probably do better with restraint.

Even so, your mileage won’t be terrific. This car needs a five-speed, with fifth an overdrive. At least there isn’t a nicer four-speed around, and finding one in here at all is reward enough. This is sig­nificant because there aren’t any other luxury cars that come with manual gear­boxes over here. BMW, of course, has an automatic too, but the stick shift is the tip. Our engine ran so smoothly that we used the gears too hard, too soon, and it wasn’t long before the box was audibly reminding us of our shortsight­edness. Gear noise is not normally a problem, but proper break-in, as we know from other experiences with BMWs, is very important.

Inside this 110-inch wheelbase is enough room for the Jabbar family up front and a non-contact soccer match in back. We stretch the point, but the space is all here. The leather seats are at first very comfortable and they are ad­justable for any angle or attitude from foxhole to crow’s-nest. But the leather is slick, lumbar adjustments are missing, and marathon drivers seem to wind up with minor backaches. But support for hard driving is good, and the back seat is a place of airy comfort despite still more slippery leather.

BMW’s four-spoke leather wheel is in-out adjustable. The dash layout, con­trols, and ventilation are worth the price of admission, and there are separate ventilation controls for the back seat. Our only real complaints cover the two-­tone dash treatment—black above, out-­of-place gray below—and the lack of engine-function gauges. A good Blau­punkt AM/FM/cassette unit puts out four-speaker stereo, and a central lock­ing system buttons up everything that can be opened except the ashtrays and the huge, fold-down glove box. The electric sunroof seized open once, as still more rain approached, and then it inexplicably freed itself just in time to fend off another downpour.

Outside, the 733i is a solid citizen of upright appearance, but it could use a deft pinstripe around the beltline crease for the sake of definition. Its solidity of construction needs no extra help. The 733i, in terms of driving satisfaction, is certainly worth more than $10,000 less than a 450SEL. And one of these days, one of these 733is will burst up behind you, slashing at your heels. Capitulate and move over. This may not give you the view you’d like, but it’s the second-­best suggestion we’ve got, the other be­ing to fork over big money and plug in your Superman tapes.

Counterpoints

Before I wax hyperbolic about the 733i, I think there are a few sobering facts you ought to consider: compared with a Pontiac Bonneville, the 733i has one fewer seats, gets 2 mpg less, and costs $21,971 more. And you have to shift it yourself?

Most Bonneville buyers probably think that shelling out nearly 30 grand for any car—let alone one that makes you stir the gears—is about as dumb as buying land by mail. Value, of course, is in the bank account of the beholder. But if you can stretch your credit far enough for a high-roller luxo-sedan, you won’t find more satisfaction than in the 733i. It’s a cornucopia of driving delights, from the way it moves—arrogantly assured, superbly responsive—to its carved-from-a-single-billet construction. From behind the wheel of a 733i you survey the vehicular world as if from a snowcapped peak in the Bavarian Alps. And to drive it is to know all the wonderful things machines can do for man. Which is a sense makes the 733i a pretty good deal. After all, it may cost $30,000 but it make you feel like a million. Make that two million. —Rich Ceppos

So what we have here is the wonder of the ages, right? The perfect automobile. You’ve just read reams on how exquisite the 733i is, and the people who have been telling you all these wondrous things are card-carrying automotive experts. Still, you’re a little skeptical. Philosophy 101 taught you that nothing is ever as it seems. And you’re right. All is not perfect in 733i land, and I would be remiss if I didn’t take this opportunity to reveal the truth. Yes, the engine and transmission are perhaps the most delightful tandem you can own. And the instrument panel is an aesthetic and ergonomic delight. Oh, sure, the suspension offers the best combination of luxury ride and handling available. And, yes, the car’s looks, solid feel, and general over-the-road competence are unmatched in even the best Mercedes-Benz has to offer. But what about the driver’s side floor mat? I’ll tell you what. It doesn’t fit. It snags on the clutch pedal. No matter how you move it around. Can you believe it? Inexcusable. —Mike Knepper

This is the third 7-series BMW I’ve driven since our friends in Munich introduced their Mercedes-zerstörer, and it’s the first one I did’t like so much. The electric sunroof so compromises front-seat headroom that I was always uncomfortable driving the car—literally a pain in the neck, she was. Given the lack of headroom, I then found it impossible to get the seat adjusted to my taste. Mercedes-Benz, Jaguar, Volvo, Saab, and the GM X-cars all provide me with enough headroom for the hat of my choice—why not BMW’s 733i?

The engine is strong and willing, but the one in our test car had a period of vibration in the midrange that would send me bitching and grumbling to my BMW dealer once a week. The four-speed gearbox is a pleasure to use, but it needs a fifth speed, since the engine really begins to intrude at radar-detector cruising speeds. Perhaps I’m being tough on the luxus-Bimmer because I just spent ten days in an XJ6 Jaguar. More and more, though, I feel that BMW’s business is somewhere south of the 5-series cars. I really like the 320i, and I’m eagerly awaiting the 323. Now, if they’d just build us an all-new 1600. —David E. Davis, Jr.

Source: Reviews - aranddriver.com