The 2009 BMW X5 xDrive 35d, left, and the 2009 BMW 335d.
The 2009 BMW X5 xDrive 35d, left, and the 2009 BMW 335d.
BMW’s dual entries — the 335d
sedan and the tongue-twisting X5 xDrive 35d sport utility — struck me
as perhaps the most desirable specimens yet.
I want their performance, which
stacks up against BMW’s enthusiast-endorsed gasoline versions.
I need their fuel economy, especially the stellar 37 miles a gallon on the
highway that I received in the 335d.
When I reviewed the VW Jetta
TDI diesel on these pages last November, diesel fuel sold for US$2.95 a gallon
nationwide,
compared with $2.05 for regular gas. That huge premium wiped out the Jetta
diesel’s considerable mileage advantage.
And since the diesel model costs $700 more than the gasoline version (accounting
for its $1,300 alternative fuel tax credit),
its money-saving argument seemed less compelling.
But by last week, a gallon of
regular had held relatively flat at $2.11, according to AAA, while diesel
prices had plunged
nearly 25 percent to an average of $2.26 a gallon. For BMW, Audi and Mercedes,
which call for premium-grade fuel in
their gasoline models, the comparison is more favorable: diesel now costs
6 cents a gallon less than premium and
diesel delivers 20 to 40 percent better mileage.
Only months ago, energy experts
were adamant that diesel, due largely to refinery shortages, would remain
prohibitively
expensive for years. So much for the experts, who have proved again that
petro-predictions are as reliable as a 12-month
weather forecast. For now, diesels are again poised to save you hundreds
of dollars a year in fuel.
But diesel isn’t strictly a dollars-and-cents
affair. The latest generation of engines produces about 20 percent less
carbon-dioxide emissions than comparable gas engines. To cut smog-forming
nitrogen oxides to California-friendly levels,
the BMW diesels carry tanks of urea: 5.3 gallons for the 335d, 5.6 gallons
in the X5. This ammonia-rich fluid is squirted into
the exhaust stream to scrub pollutants, and the tank holds enough to last
until the next scheduled service.
BMW also pays for refills under its four-year or 50,000-mile program of free
scheduled maintenance.
Diesel owners have also come
to expect great durability, with diesels routinely running for 200,000 miles
or more with no
costly repairs. The engines conserve liquid like camels in the Sahara: both
the 335d and X5 35d can travel nearly 600
highway miles on a tank.
But perhaps the coolest thing
about the new diesels is that they make you feel as if you’re getting away
with something:
they are frugal, yet fun to drive.
BMW, ever mindful of what justifies
its lofty prices, has whipped up the most power-hungry, enthusiast-oriented
diesel ever
sold in America. The 335d engine, the nation’s first twin-turbocharged diesel,
produces 265 horsepower and 425 pound-feet
of torque from a mere 3 liters of engine displacement. Even the mighty M5
supersedan (500 horsepower and $90,000)
can’t muster that much torque — the force you feel when you punch the throttle.
A smoking 5.8-second run to 60
m.p.h. puts the diesel a mere half-second behind the gasoline-powered 335i
and its
ferocious 300-horsepower, twin-turbo 6. In my life, I’ve never experienced
such explosive throttle response from a diesel.
One thing’s certain: from 30, 50 or 70 m.p.h., the 3 Series will surprise
a whole lot of V-8 sports cars and sedans.
The 335d is 220 pounds heavier than the twin-turbo gasoline 335i, but the
loss in handling is negligible.
The tradeoff is that the BMWs
aren’t pure mileage hounds in the manner of the small VW diesel, which delivered
48 m.p.g.
on the highway. The BMW will sneak past its federal estimates of 23 m.p.g.
in town and 36 on the highway, but it takes effort.
Yet compared with most hybrids,
these diesels are much more forgiving of a heavy right foot. Romping like
a schoolboy in the
335d, I still managed 30 m.p.g. on the highway.
All told, in city and on highway,
in fast times and slow, I managed 30 m.p.g. over a week of driving, an enormous
gain over the
21 m.p.g. I got with the gasoline 335i. As some auto critics have noted,
BMW has smaller diesels in its European portfolio
that would do better. Yet I’m not convinced that American 3 Series fans are
ready for a 4-cylinder-anything in a BMW.
As a lifelong devotee of fast-spinning
yet puree-smooth gas engines — like the 8,000-r.p.m. masterworks of a Honda
S2000 or BMW’s twin-turbo 335i — I’m not yet accustomed to diesels that run
out of breath around 4,500 r.p.m.
But compared with the compromises required by some hybrids — squishy regenerative
brakes, aimless transmissions,
boggy acceleration, diminished cargo space — the drawbacks of diesels seem
minor.
BMW said it couldn’t build a
manual transmission that would be strong enough to handle the diesel’s torque
and still
feel sporty. And as much as I love self-shifting a BMW, it must be said that
the diesels are especially compatible with
their 6-speed automatic transmission. With torque packed into the lower and
middle range of the power curve,
you can leave the car in Drive and enjoy ridiculous passing power in any
situation.
Both BMW diesels deliver the
stellar handling BMW is known for. As with the conventional 3 Series, the
word “driving”
barely does justice to what takes place. It’s more like you cradle the car,
barely moving your palms, while the 335d
responds like a polo pony to every twitch.
Like other modern diesels, the
BMWs are California-clean and do away entirely with black, stinky exhaust.
Both BMWs
are barely louder at idle than gasoline versions, but the 3 Series actually
seems quieter on the highway, where its diesel
tools along at incredibly low engine speeds. The X5’s sound quality isn’t
as soothing, with the diesel’s drone and boom
much more noticeable in its S.U.V. soundbox of a cabin.
BMW’s Active Steering, which
adjusts the steering ratio depending on the car’s speed, is not available
on diesel models,
but that is no real loss.
The X5 diesel — 14 inches taller
and 1,400 pounds heavier than the 335d — is less of a giggle fit on wheels.
Yet by the standards of obese luxury S.U.V.’s, the BMW remains as skilled
a performer as anything in the class.
Its eye-opening 0-to-60 time of 6.9 seconds trails the 350-horsepower V-8
version by just half a second.
And its estimated 18/26 m.p.g. is nearly 40 percent better than the woeful
14/19 of the gasoline V-8 version and
also trumps the 15/21 of the 6-cylinder gasoline model.
While this sedan and S.U.V. mimic
the fine points of their gas counterparts, they keep the bad stuff as well.
For the 3 Series, that includes a smallish back seat and sticky doors that
don’t always close fully on the first try.
For the X5, subtract points for the clunky last-generation iDrive controller
that sets vehicle functions; only BMWs that
received major updates for 2009 get the markedly improved version of iDrive,
as a $2,100 option for the 3-Series.
After experiencing the iDrive
2.0 in the latest 7 Series sedan, returning to the old version was like that
frustrating dream
where you’re back in high school: you know you’re not supposed to be there,
but the teacher is giving a quiz and you
can’t get up and leave. The X5 also clings to its awkward clamshell tailgate.
The 335d’s downer is a US$44,725
starting price — $2,475 above the formidable 335i with an automatic.
That’s a lot of money for any 3 Series not wearing the high-performance “M”
badge — or for one lacking a navigation
system. (Navigation is a $2,100 option that includes iDrive and 12 gigabytes
of music storage.)
My test car, optioned up, fetched $51,445.
The X5 makes a stronger economic
case, at least if you are determined to buy a luxury S.U.V. The diesel costs
$3,700
more than the basic X5 3.0 (with a 260-horsepower in-line 6). Yet like the
diesel version of the big Mercedes GL,
the X5’s diesel makes a frugal stand-in for the optional V-8.
Starting at US$52,025, the diesel
model costs $4,600 less than the X5 with a 4.8-liter V-8.
And when it comes to performance, the diesel buyer will never miss the V-8.
All told, the 335d can save time.
But it’s the X5 xDrive 35d that saves more money.
