My two sensations from this drive were not post-worthy in the classic sense. One involved an uncomfortable tilt. The other was an engine’s song at sustained high speed – on second thought, maybe that second part belongs after all!
It was May 1988, within a month of our return to the U.S. following a three-year U.S. Army tour, and time to drive my 3.0 CS to Bremerhaven. There, shipment awaited to a grey-market conversion shop near Philly. Hey, a 3.0 CS! That sets the stage for future postings about that Karmann-sourced sireen, no? No. Let’s just say that most parts of my subsequent 15-year association with this big galumph of a Coupe was regrettable, and actually dulled my older-car enthusiasm for years. So this isn’t some dreamy BMW blogger waxing about his timeless classic.
But there was that one, last, memorable jaunt, with its two sensations. First was of the motorboat variety. As 160 kph approached, the nose took on a decidedly skyward sniffing. Backing off seemed sensible, but the steering hadn’t lightened appreciably, so I pushed things up to 200 kph. Stability still seemed fine, but then a ubiquitous wind gust [nee “Stoic Trees“] ended the bravery and I returned to well below 160. That was also chivalrous, as it allowed my wife to catch up in the 205 GTI.
The other sensation was, well, sensational, and reflects the well-documented BMW siren-singing six. Part steel-hammering, part honey, I can still vividly remember that day’s concert and dance. It really was a fitting swan song for the car’s time in Germany, and as time passes, it helps erase the financial fiasco that was to follow [and shall remain undocumented].
