I had just traded in my car for a new BMW. A 430i xDrive coupe. A 4 cylinder, 16 valve 255 HP engine with a twin scroll turbocharger. Whatever that means. What it means is fast – and awesome.

I was about to turn 68 and I was buying myself my first real birthday present. One that only I could pick out, because it was for me and from me. I was making all the decisions, this was gonna be my car, not a family car.

I’ve always loved sports cars. My first car I bought was an MG Midget bought used, a 1967 model I purchased in 1973 as I was about to begin my sophomore year in college. I bought it not even knowing how to drive a clutch. I remember I had to take one of my boyhood friends, Steve, to drive the car home. Since I worked at Jones Beach at the time, I directed Steve to drive the MG to the beach where I would learn how to shift the little roadster.

I chose the beach because I knew all the huge parking lots there. We picked up the car on a weekday since I knew the parking lots would not be as full as on the weekends. So we arrived and Steve showed me how to ease the clutch out and get used to using shift handle. After a few minutes of stalling and jerking the car, I had it down and we drove home. I was now ready to terrorize my fellow Long Island drivers, among the most aggressive and nasty drivers around. What did I know?

But it didn’t take long to master the gears with the clutch and soon it was paradise driving around showing off my car to my high school buddies. The only problem was I could only take one friend at a time for a ride since the Midget was a two-seater. So taking everyone for a ride consumed about two hours but we had a blast.

That car lasted through my sophomore year and leaked oil like an old clunker. I also had to change the rotor and clean out the carburetor almost every month and replace the spark plugs often. All that leaking oil was traveling everywhere throughout the engine. Luckily, I had a great roommate, Mike, who knew cars and taught me how to service the MG. It was a bit of work but the car was fun and it was my independence. I took that car on many trips to visit my friends at their colleges for long weekends or winter and spring breaks.

Then it all ended. One night on campus, I glanced a curb but what I didn’t know was that because the car was so low to the ground, I had sliced the brakeline and dented the frame and metal behind the wheels. So, I got back in the car and when another curb was in front of me, my steering wheel locked and I applied the brakes. Nothing. Then I hit the curb head-on which to the Midget was like hitting Grand Central Station. Luckily, since campus speed limit was low, I didn’t get hurt, but the MG did. The car was a mess and definitely not drivable without some major work.

A few months later, during Summer break, I rented a UHaul to get the car back to Long Island and I recruited my best friends to help me. We drove the truck 90 miles from Long Island to Rider College in New Jersey, to pick up the car. Now the trick would be getting it into the UHaul. Of course, I had measured the truck width to ensure I had rented the right size mini-truck.

But what I hadn’t realized was that the width of the truck was fine; BUT the rear doors had a lip on each side. Of course that wasn’t apparent until we had driven the 90 miles and arrived and looked and measured again and then said, “Oh, no!”

We were so close! Inches apart. So we rolled the MG up the ramp and then we carefully tilted the MG to one side, actually lifting the left side of the car while rolling it forward. Yes! This was gonna work! And then we got to the drivers left outside mirror and that was not gonna get past the door.

So we talked and planned and fretted until finally one of my friends simply walked over and snapped off the mirror. I froze – and then we all laughed. The mirror was tossed onto the driver’s seat, then we just shoved the damned car in, closed the doors and were on our way home.

Crossing the Verrazano Bridge on the way back, I saw flashing lights behind me as a police car signaled me to pull over. Now, I’m nervous as Hell and I’m coaching my friends how we’re gonna play this. There is no way I want the cop to know we are transporting a car in a mini-truck. I don’t think we were breaking any law, but when you’re 19, you suddenly become paranoid. You need to realize there were five long-hairs driving along in that truck and this was the early 1970s.

So when he came by and asked what we were doing, I just told him we were transporting all my college stuff back home. He informed me that we didn’t have the outside mirror on the passenger side of the truck properly installed and we somehow adjusted it to his satisfaction and we got the Hell out of Dodge as quickly as we could – without receiving a ticket, a warning or worst of all – without him ever asking me to open up the rear doors so he could “inspect” what we were really transporting. Whew!  

Well, once I got home I had the MG inspected and with a bent frame, brakework, steering column and other repairs (did I mention my head had cracked the windshield during impact?) the car was officially considered totaled by my insurance company. I sold it out of my parents’ driveway for a few hundred dollars but emerged with great memories and this story.

But this is supposed to be about the new BMW. This car is no MG. It’s luxury and sophistication and power when you need it. It turns heads and would kill the MG on the road. I love them both. I’ll never again have the stories I have from my college years, the partying, the constant studying, the craziness of your last year as a teenager. But I’ve got this story and as I cruise the country in my new BMW and in my retirement, I’m planning on writing some new adventures while driving to new beaches and revisiting those old friends.

Chris Ebel
10/6/21

Thanks to Charles Ebel for the picture and my archivalists Claudia and Bob Casson for retrieving the image.