Why I Replaced My E30 BMW With A Porsche Cayman

There’s little chance I’ll ever get to own a car as cool as my old 1983 E30 BMW 323i. It was with me for just over two years, and I enjoyed every second of it. From the chrome bumpers to the stupidly fruity exhaust and the bumping sound system I installed in it. When push came to shove, though, I knew I had to sell. Here’s why I did it and how I settled on its replacement.

Performance

Let me start with the obvious. My old E30 was one hell of a looker and had an exhaust that made it sound like an old touring car. However, despite it weighing just over a tonne, the 2.3-litre M20 straight-six under the bonnet only put out a rather paltry 150bhp. Enough to keep up with modern traffic, sure. But by no means quick. And the long Autobahn-friendly gearing only made things more lethargic. Its suspension, despite being swapped out for Bilstein springs and dampers, still rolled around like a good classic should. The tyres too- it sat on tiny 14x6 bottlecaps, great in theory for slide-ability, but when paired with an open differential, only led to one-wheel peel. 

The Cayman solves pretty much all of these problems. It weighs 200-300kg more than the E30 but has about 115 more horsepower, 0-62mph takes 4 seconds less at 5.8 seconds. Top speed also increases to 165mph. Not that I’ve tried, officer. Steering is far more direct than the notoriously slow rack on the E30, and the power assistance is still hydraulic, so there’s great feedback from the front axle too. Its nature as a mid-engined car makes it supremely well balanced too (some say more so than the equivalent 911), lending poise through corners and the grip of a chalked-up powerlifter.

Comfort and luxury

Let’s not mince words here, the E30 is an incredibly comfortable car. What it lost in chassis control, it gained in waftability. The leather Recaros in my car also did a surprisingly good job of holding me in place while staying comfortable, no matter how long the journey. However, going back to that exhaust for a second, there was next to no refinement to be found. While it sounded great at full chat, that exhaust droned like nothing else on the motorway. Couple that with a lack of air conditioning and the increasingly hot summers we’ve been having, and you get a recipe for some woeful experiences on long journeys.

The Cayman, on the other hand, is the first car I’ve ever owned with AC, heated seats, cruise control, ABS, or airbags, for that matter. The standard exhaust also sounds great, while Porsche’s variable valve timing does a great job of keeping the sound in check at cruising speed. The ride itself is harsher than the BMW was, of course, but the primary ride is supple enough for long journeys, and the tighter secondary ride isn’t tooth-chattering but just gives you a little more information about the road beneath you than the E30 would.

Usability

This is probably the main reason why I had to let the E30 go. Before I started at Car Throttle, I had a company car. So, the fact that the E30 had to spend half the year in the garage (series one E30s are not galvanised) didn’t really matter to me. Sure, I could fit in the boot at 6’3” and even have space left over for a friend. I could seat four at a squeeze, too but, overall, it just wasn’t a very practical car to own. It also drank petrol almost as fast as you could fill it up. Being a London lad meant that I probably averaged somewhere in the low teens in terms of MPG. Things weren’t much better on the motorway either, as on a good day, I’d get around 230-240 miles out of its 55-litre tank.

The Cayman, on the other hand, will comfortably get up to 40mpg on a run, and Porsche reckons it will extract 429 miles from its more substantial 65 litre tank. Try as I might, I don’t quite fit in the front storage compartment (froot?) but nevertheless, it’s capacious enough to fit two carry-on suitcases with some extra space to spare and the fact that the car is mid-engined means I have a second storage compartment behind said engine compartment. No, I can’t fit as much stuff in it as I could the E30 and yes, I can seat two or three fewer people than I could in that car but, I don’t have to worry about it rusting away beneath me and if I can fit a £150 Costco haul in it, it’s spacious enough for me.

It’s a Porsche

Leading up to purchasing the Cayman, the common reaction when telling people about my plan to do so was something along the lines of “Are you sure? You might not want to go back afterwards.” It’s undeniable that Porsche has spent the last 75 years or so building a reputation for constantly honing and refining its craft in an incredibly German effort to get as close to the perfect design as possible. Whether you think they’ve done it or not, it’s tough to deny that the experience of owning a modern Porsche, or even a 16-year-old one for that matter, is one almost completely devoid of inconvenience or idiosyncrasy. Everything falls exactly to hand and nothing feels out of place. The controls feel perfectly weighted, and a heel-and-toe downshift has never felt so easy.

Beyond the German-ness of it all, we also now live in a day and age where the Ferraris and the Lamborghinis of the world are no longer the bedroom wall poster cars that they used to be. In a world where downsizing engine displacements, lopping off cylinders and adding hybridisation has become the norm, every kid carspotter in Knightsbridge wants a GT3 RS. And no, a base Cayman isn’t anything even close to that screaming, 747-winged monster. But, the halo effect is a real thing, and the Porsche brand recognition is stronger than it’s ever been. I’d be lying if I said I was immune to the vanity of it all.

All in all, I’m just pleased to have a car that’s quick enough for me, fun to throw down a B-road and that I don’t need to worry about using all year round and stacking miles onto. I’ve road tripped to Newcastle and Amsterdam, and the thing hasn’t missed a beat, despite its 105,000-mile odometer reading. Here’s hoping for many more enjoyable miles to come.