But soon little bits of the car’s…well…newness started to bug me. The questionable plastics in the interior didn’t seem as trustworthy as the plastic and vinyl of the E30, the quicker steering rack was hard to get used to, and the buzzy four-cylinder didn’t quite excite me the way the melodious inline-six did. It just felt weird. It felt wrong, almost. Even my friends, while recognizing it as a nice car, didn’t think it fit me at all, and told me as much independently of each other. As soon as I got the title in the mail I put it up for sale. My ownership ended in its third week.