It’s hard to believe this generation of 3 Series—internally dubbed the E90—has been around since March 2005. BMW first showed it at the Geneva Motor Show that year, then wasted no time putting it into production shortly thereafter for the 2006 model year. Twenty years later, I’ve inadvertently stumbled upon this 2008 BMW 335i Coupe on its birthday in a roundabout way, but this piece isn’t about this specific car. Instead, it got me thinking about the bigger picture. Having spent a lot of time with E90s over the years, including a wonderful few days with this charmer, I’ve started to think this is peak car.
I try to be cognizant of the long-term ramifications of the declarations I make. The internet means everything is forever accessible, and we humans—especially those of us who are paid to have opinions—can be a silly and short-sighted bunch. I think back to Car & Driver re-publishing their old 10Best lists a few years ago, where something stood out to me: they loved Audi. The same publication that was, on countless occasions, accused of being in BMW’s pocketbook gave Audi, a niche upstart at the time, their top nod for several consecutive years through the 1980s. That was the same decade BMW was enjoying a renaissance and Mercedes-Benz was on top of the world.
Here’s the thing: while I’ve always liked Audis, they haven’t always been the best cars. I’ll always remember hearing from an Audi dealer tech, when Quattro was still a novelty, that those early cars were “a special kind of unreliable.” Anecdotally, I’ve seen more malaise-era Ferraris—let alone older BMWs and Benzes—out and about than an old Audi that someone’s been patient enough to keep in roadworthy shape. As impressive as the cars may have been, those early models failed the test of time.
The test of time matters. I’d argue it’s the most important test of any car, and it’s the only test that can’t be conducted in a traditional, controlled sense. Even the most brutal durability testing doesn’t hold a candle to the rigours of time. In 1986, Saab famously ran a fleet of brand-new 9000 sedans around Talladega Speedway at over 200 km/h for three weeks, covering 100,000 kilometers and setting a pile of records in the process. This may have showcased their then-world-beating performance and unbelievable durability, but when was the last time you saw one?
Conversely, BMW 3ers—from all ages and all walks of life—are everywhere. Save for the E21 and their ridiculous rust issues, they’ve pretty much always stood the test of time quite admirably, and I’m starting to think none have or will tolerate it more handily than the E90. Twenty years on, they’re still a very common sight everywhere, and for good reason. They’re very good, and this goes beyond basic driving impressions that you’d typically find in a car review.
There’s nothing I could say about the way these cars drive that hasn’t already been said ad nauseam. Well before I was in this line of work, when I was actually shopping for one of these, I was annoyed at not being able to find really granular impressions of what these cars were like to drive. Everyone, from paid pros to armchair amateurs, said the same thing: it’s very good, you should drive one. They were right. Even a plurality of decades later, the E90 remains very good, and you should drive one.
The E90 even holds its own against its modern contemporaries from BMW’s own stable. Modern BMWs are the best modern cars. They made great strides in capability and technology since this E90 to be sure, but none of them have appealed to me quite like this 335i has. I think there’s a lot to be learned from this car, because it does every damn thing so ridiculously well to this day. It doesn’t feel old, or like it’s a step backwards compared to newer variants. And, the new ones haven’t been vetted by father time yet.
This generation of 3 Series was offered as a sedan, wagon, coupe, and convertible body styles, codenamed E90, E91, E92, and E93, respectively—but all these cars colloquially fall under the hat of E90. Regardless of which body style you like, they’re all quite simple and handsome, carefully avoiding falling into the pit of overstyling like certain BMWs of the era did. The coupe I’m playing with here, despite sharing a very similar overall aesthetic to the sedan, shared zero exterior panels or lights with the four-door. It’s a clean design that’s aged better than any of us expected, and still looks modern 20 years on.
The same goes for the cabin space. This car, with its Saddle Brown leather and burl walnut trim, hasn’t aged a day. It’s so simple, so straightforward, so easy to figure out, and so aesthetically pleasing that it questions every decision that BMW has made since. Even its early iDrive infotainment—granted, present-day iDrive is vasty superior overall—still actually works really well and doesn’t feel at all like you’d expect of relatively ancient software. Imagine the misery of using a laptop that’s been on a shelf since before Taylor Swift happened. This isn’t that, and it’s amazing.
Not only does this E92’s interior look good and work well, it’s cohesive. The coarse-grain leather inserts on the doors match the soft touch plastic on the tops of the doors—which match the dashboard, which match the seats, which match the centre console. Glossy walnut trim gives it warmth, brushed aluminum accents give it levity, and there’s no piano black to have picked up scratches and reveal its age. Save for the contrast levels on the iDrive screen, this could be a very good brand-new car.
The cohesiveness of the cabin continues to the driving experience, where this 335i really stands out. Not because it’s really excellent at any one thing, and not because it’s an amazing performer, but because it’s so good at all of the things, and feels very right all of the time.
Feeling right all of the time is important. There’s rarely much space to talk about this sort of thing in a car review, but the way a car feels when it’s being driven slowly matters just as much, if not more than how it feels when you’re hustling. Let’s face it, you’ll be driving it slowly more often than not. My favourite cars—all of them—feel good at pedestrian speeds. They’re calibrated such that the same qualities that work so well when you’re kicking ass feel just as good when you’re kicking back. No drive modes, no settings, no trickery, just holistic engineering balance. That unity of experience is a lost art. Mazda has it figured out, and BMW still knows it, but only on the very base models with less than five M badges.
One aspect to the E90 that feels right all the time, yet is no longer used, is its hydraulic power steering. Along with almost the entire auto industry, every BMW that followed since switched over to electric power steering. I don’t want to parrot the very tired critique that electronic power steering is inherently bad—the Honda S2000 and Mazda RX-8 were early adopters before the rest of the industry followed, and no one complained about them—but the E90 is a model of tactility, with enough heft to feel substantial and satisfying without ever feeling heavy. It’s a gold standard for steering and should be referenced by all.
The clutch is super easy to read, paired with an engine that to this day is a model of mechanical smoothness and responsiveness. Its tractable powerband means this 335i is just as happy to trundle along at 1,000 rpm as it is to wail at 7,000—that kind of flexibility is almost unheard of even today. The shifter is short and sweet, with clearly defined shift gates and a just-right notichiness even with an aging shift linkage. I spent most of my morning with this car very quietly shuttling between photoshoot locations, and it was a delight at every speed.
The engine is so smooth and so slick in its operation that it’s easy to forget which gear you’re in at low speeds. It doesn’t care whether you’re in third or fifth, it refuses to lug or chug. It’s almost inaudible at a cruise, building power and sound very linearly as you lean into it. This family of engines is a marvel of engineering, employing a lightweight magnesium alloy engine block, forged aluminum internals in the case of this twin-turbocharged N54 (that have since been shown to be able to tolerate a crazy amount of power), and a genius system called Valvetronic that eliminates a traditional throttle altogether.
See, in just about every other modern car, your foot works with a computer to open or close a throttle valve to adjust the flow of air into an engine. BMW’s system does away with the throttle altogether. Instead, it relies on an actuator and an eccentric shaft on the intake camshaft to perform the same task. At idle, the intake valves just barely crack open, promoting higher intake speeds and better air/fuel swirl for optimal efficiency, solving a longstanding engineering challenge on four-valve engines.
Then, as you lean into the throttle, the intake valves lift open more with your foot, for more airflow and more power. The hesitation in the time it takes for air to go from the opened throttle valve to the combustion chambers on most engines is eliminated with this system, leading to unparalleled throttle response and extremely precise control over the engine. It’s genius, and BMW still uses Valvetronic to great success.
On the topic of success, a big part of what makes these cars still so successful and relevant is that they were incredibly well-built and well-thought-out. Granted no car is perfect, and the E90 isn’t. At the time, BMW couldn’t make a gasket to save their lives, and they all will develop valve cover, oil filter housing, and oil pan gasket leaks. Rear shocks are so weak, they’re basically consumables like brakes, and worn out thrust arm bushings have been a weakness on every BMW since the dawn of time. You’ll hear horror stories about these early 335s devouring expensive fuel injectors and wrecking turbos, but I’ve never seen those fail, nor have I seen the spooky electric water pump failure that everyone’s so afraid of. Plus, parts availability from BMW themselves is top-tier, and aftermarket parts support is pretty well unmatched, meaning there’s always a way to save some money.
There’s always a way to do it yourself, too. These cars are well-loved and supported by a devout community, and if you’re willing to learn, there are countless write-ups and walk-throughs for just about every problem imaginable on these. This is all facilitated by these cars being quite easy to work on, as they’re pretty logically laid out and designed to be serviceable. And because these were and are nice cars, the hardware the holds them together—zinc-plated bolts, quality steel screws, robust plastic snap fittings that can survive being snapped apart—there’s rarely any surprise snags when you’re trying to take one of these apart.
Expect those pesky single-use aluminum screws on the engine. At least any decent replacement part will come with new fittings.
The biggest boon with these things is corrosion resistance. Prior to this, BMWs were all pretty susceptible to being bitten by the rust bug, and for this new era of cars, BMW put a stop to that and updated their production processes with some of the best rust resistance in the business. Only Porsche was ahead of them in this era. The catastrophic cancer that makes so many other cars flat-out unserviceable is not a problem with these in all but the most extreme cases. With some pretty basic care and attention, these cars will happily go the distance without trying to ruin you along the way.
The only thing they’ll ruin for you is other cars. Even 20 years later, E90s are still incredibly good at everything. It’s not even very good “for an old car”—it’s just very good, period, like everyone says. My first BMW was also about 20-years-old when I bought it almost 20 years ago, but it felt like an “old” car. This car’s most incredible trick is that it doesn’t feel like it’s aged a day. The E90-generation BMW 3 Series set a standard that I’m honestly not sure has been topped since; nothing else, even from BMW’s own lineup, has been so unequivocally terrific across the board for such a long time. There’s a BMW 3 Series for every need and want, and I think we all need to be studying these to see how a modern car is supposed to be done, now and beyond.
