So ... I know this is going to sound REALLY sad -- in a pathetic way -- or at least bizarre, and in some ways almost disturbing, but i suppose if there's ANY people on the planet who can imagine how i must feel, it's you guys and girls ... especially those of you for whom your X5 was your first BMW -- and especially if that first BMW was a gift from your parents.
As most of you now know, last weekend I sold the X5 and acquired a 2004 E46 M3. I've always wanted an M3, especially an E46, if only to enjoy the last of the legendary I6 engine and pre-Bangle-era designs. Additionally, I've always wanted a convertible. And I love the carbon black color. And I like SMG. And I cannot live without GPS or a good audio system. And that's exactly the car I got.
I should be the happiest guy alive, at least with respect to automotive matters.
But finally, after a week, I have to admit something unbelievable: I actually had an honest-to-God emotional bond to that X5!! I mean I know we all refer to our cars as "she" (or maybe "he," for the girls here?), and I know we all say how much we "love" our X's ... but ... I guess I never realized before that it's ACTUALLY possible to develop what FEELS like an emotional bond ... until now, of course, when it's too late.
I've given it a lot of thought, and I think I know what happened. I acquired that X5 as a UCLA graduation gift from my parents, days before my gf at the time savagely and cruelly broke up with me for reasons far beyond the scope of this discussion. The months following that tragic breakup saw me spending COUNTLESS hours in the X5 -- at times I would even study for the LSAT overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge, my feet up in the window, the sun basking down on my face.
And whenever pain from my gf pressured tears to rupture my eyes, I'd just hop in my "big little tank" and go for cruise, literally driving my grief away.
I've heard before that surges of adrenaline function as catalysts to etching memories in our brains: that when we are suffering a particularly stressful situation, the adrenaline triggered by such stress functions to indelibly write those memories to our brain.
Well, during the 2 years, 6 months, 2 weeks, and 3 days, and nearly 80,000 miles with my X, I experienced a TREMENDOUS amount of change in my life: I took my LSAT; visited New York for the first time; got involved in two more relationships; finished law school acceptances; got into law school; enjoyed two summers working at a law firm; visited Europe for my second time; passed the 50% point of law school; and enjoyed one of the most memorable trips I've ever had, a brief stint to Tahoe with my gf just after Christmas this past year.
That's an unbelievable number of miles, and more importantly, that's a LOT of memories to associate with something -- even if that something is "just a vehicle" -- in such a relatively short period of time. And because it all began at both one of the greatest highs of my life -- graduating UCLA -- and one of the deepest lows -- that breakup with that particular gf -- I guess the adrenaline-catalyzed memories and emotional bonds really formed solid.
I've never been one to really get attached to things: I've always valued of course my family and true friends in my life; my health; and the amazingly good fortune I've had in life. So when I find myself tossing and turning in bed to such an extent that I'm moved to write this pathetic drivel about a CAR ... yeah it rather disturbs me. Perhaps my brain is looking for an outlet to vent other more actually pressing matters? Like Monday's Fed Income Tax midterm? Or next weekend's Con Law II and Remedies midterms? The frustrations with my present gf sparked not so much from the distance between us (LA and SD) but simply because I'm not Persian Jewish, but merely half-Persian and not at all Jewish, and her Dad would kill her (and me!) if he found out? Who knows.
I guess I'm just kicking myself for having acted so quickly: it was a decision that was formulated and executed within one week. But the urgency of the transaction was fueled by time constraints of school and fears of additional repair bills adding up at increasing rates: during the past year / 30,000 miles, we were literally blowing hundreds to thousands of dollars every few months on repairs -- some big, some little. Countless things going out now and then. And with the looming fear of transmission failure with 115,000 miles on the clock, and its $7,000 price tag ... it just didn't make sense to keep the X any longer.
It's not that I don't love the new M3 -- of course I do: I giggle like a school girl every time I downshift a few times and feel the wind in my hair. It's the car I've ALWAYS wanted.
And yet somehow ... I guess it's that certain something -- that "je ne sais quoi" -- that hits most hard. Perhaps it was the psychological sense of security of being in that "Suburban Assault Vehicle." Perhaps, with all the driving I do up and down the coast of California, at average speeds in the 80-85 mph range, it was the peace of mind knowing that a black X5 just ISN'T a cop magnet (to wit, I've never received a speeding ticket in my life). Perhpas it was the seeming ambivalence to the laws of physics with which the X5 so leisurely gobbled up miles of straight highway yet felt equally at home on a small mountain road or drifting round snow-packed roads in Tahoe, all the while being able to haul my entire bedroom in its cargo hold. And enjoy a lap at Thunderhill Raceway. Then again, perhaps it was just the amazingly intoxicating exhaust note from the astonishing $1200 after-market exhaust that I had acquired for a mere $100. Maybe it was all the little personalized touches I'd added, like the tinted windows and upgraded BSW audio system, for instance. Or maybe it was everyone's undeniable -- if not bedgruding -- attraction to the ridiculously tongue-in-cheek license plate I acquired not quite one year ago: X5 4PLY.
She really was the perfect vehicle for my lifestyle at this time in my life.
There's no two ways about it: if I had to live with one car in my garage for the rest of my life, that would be the car. Not the new E70; not a Cayenne Turbo S; not the savage new ML 63; just my beloved 2001 E53 X5 4.4 Sport. And although I know that, logically, I made the right decision, and although the M3 is everything I ever dreamed it could be, I'm just sorry I couldn't have spent more time with my X.
If that's not a tribute to all of us here who own and love our X's ... I don't know what is.
Good night.