BMW M340i review: there’s lots to love about this car
The car-reviewing part of my job sounds amazing, but let me tell you, it is, in large part, pure torture.
Dear readers, please procure the smallest violins you can find, as I am about to slip down a self-pity slide into a morass of bemoaning my lot. You might think, as most people do, that the car-reviewing part of my job sounds amazing, but let me tell you, it is, in large part, pure torture.
I’m not silly enough to get upset about the fact that I will never be able to afford the supercars I occasionally get to drive (imagine working in a cinema, and sitting through all the dross, and the musicals, and then once or twice a year an Inception or an Everything Everywhere All At Once comes along). Yes, when I am forced to meet the people who own Ferraris, Lamborghinis et al, I rage at the injustices of life and attempt not to visibly vibrate with violence when they point out how much they’d love my job.
I might get to drive a Ferrari, but imagine not having to hand it back after 48 hours; imagine being able to sit in it, rev the engine and giggle yourself stupid whenever you fancy. I have imagined it, and it sounds great.
There are also a lot of awful cars to be driven, of course, many of which I don’t end up writing about because I have nothing nice to say, and my mother raised me to be polite. Those days aren’t torture, they’re just… sitting in traffic. Try and imagine if your whole work day was just the commuting part, without the fun office-intrigue bits.
No, what really stings is driving cars I really, dearly love and yet know that, even though they might be within the reach of people with decent jobs, I’ll never be able to afford one. What makes this worse is that, somehow, everyone else in my street seems to own several cars, and one of my neighbours, a man I genuinely like despite him stealing my life, owns two of the vehicles I most desire – a manual Porsche 911 and a BMW M3.
Again, I know that I’m never going to stretch to an M3, which start at around $160,000, but that’s what made my week with the BMW M340i so accursedly difficult. While it’s not quite as hairy chested, muscular or perfect as the M3 (a wagon version is coming, which may go to the top of the list, but it’s going to be $177,500), it feels pretty damn close.
I’d also heard a rumour that its price has recently been cut by a significant $8700, which gave me a snifter of hope, even as I steadfastly refused to Google what its actual cost is.
I have to say I love pretty much everything about the M340i, from its almost Porsche-good meaty steering to its rear-biased all-wheel-drive system to the big-enough-for-my-family size and the four doors and the fact that it’s not an SUV. Most of all, I love its 3.0-litre turbocharged straight-six engine – which I honestly thought BMW had stopped putting in cars like this, many of which are fast yet dull turbo four-cylinders. Its 285kW and 500Nm are not quite what you’d get in an M3, but they are, without doubt, enough to keep me happy and giggling for the rest of my days, as is a zero to 100km/h dash of 4.4 seconds.
The M340i is not a supercar, but it is a superb one. In Comfort mode it feels German and luxurious and classy, and in Sport it feels like you’re in Germany and you can go as fast as you like. Every corner is an event, every roundabout becomes a chicane, and the connection between your hands, your backside, your brain and the road is superlative.
It could be better, of course; it could be an M3, which you can get with a manual gearbox, which is not an option here, although the paddle shifts are still very entertaining. Some members of my spoiled family complained about the quality of the stereo but I told them to shut up and listen to the symphony that is a straight-six engine howling away.
The fact is, of course, that nothing this good is going to come cheap, and particularly not if it has a BMW badge on it. It also turns out that the M Sport Pro and Executive option packages add some extra cost to the base price of this car, which I looked up after several heavy, pre-emptive sighs. An M340i without extra goodies starts at $106,200, while our gussied-up test vehicle would set you back $111,700.
Now, the experienced, professional part of my brain would say that, for this much car, that’s actually pretty good comparative value. But the larger part of my brain that I actually have to live with tells me that I have to take the M340i back today, and that I’ll never, ever be able to own one, because it’s roughly $90,000 more than I’m willing to spend on a car (I know, because we just bought one for $21,000, a second-hand manual VW Golf, so that we can take the L plates off our fridge, and I thought that was crazy expensive).
I’m sure you’re all feeling suitably sorry for me, and I hope you don’t mind if I go now. I need a tissue.
BMW M340i
Engine: 3.0-litre turbocharged six-cylinder (285kW/500Nm)
Fuel economy: 7.7 litres per 100km
Transmission: 8-speed Steptronic automatic, all-wheel drive
Price: From $106,200
Rating: 4.5 out of 5 stars