The notion of a premium hatchback — a car like the BMW 550i Gran Turismo in my driveway this week — has never been an easy sell to Americans. Lift-backs are low-buck rides, the Ford Escorts and Dodge Omnis of the world, right? And there's not much doubt that that given a bit more financial reach, most of the people who buy such cars would opt up to a traditional two-door coupe, sedan, or SUV if they could (though surely not a wagon, a body style that remains about as stylish in the States as orthopedic shoes).
The 5-series GT is an odd creation; pictures of it are proof enough of that. It's a lot like the Honda Accord Crosstour — just like it, really, only a few rungs higher up the market. It's derived from the 5-series, but shares remarkably little with the sedan, looks-wise. And it's big. The first time I sat in the car, it seemed to me a whole like more 7-series GT than 5-series GT. But despite its size, it defiantly seats only four, with a dramatic center console between rear seats that (in my test vehicle) feature heating and cooling.
BMW bills the GT as sort of an SUV antidote, but I haven't quite figured out what about it is better or easier to live with than the company's own SUVs — okay, SAVs. The fuel economy is godawful: I got about 16 mpg on a long highway run. And cargo capacity seems only so-so: less than the cheaper 5-series wagon, and less than the more versatile X5 and X6. I am amused by that wacky hatch, though, which opens as a quasi-trunk lid or a full-on lift back. Crazy.
Dynamically, I have to agree with reviewers who complained about limited wheel travel and some unfortunate damping characteristics, factors seemed particularly pronounced on the cobblestone streets in my neighborhood. I also had a hard time finding the GT all that quick. Four hundred horsepower is terrific, really, but when the car tips the scales at 4938 pounds, every one of those ponies has its work cut out for it. Actually, 4938 pounds is the GT's standard curb weight; my car's $21,000 in options (bottom line: $85,000, up from a base price of $63,900) doubtless added a couple hundred more.
That said, weight may be the enemy on the racetrack, but it's a very fine friend on the Interstate. The GT is an absolute dream at (and well above) highway speeds: supremely quiet and never less than utterly composed. The iDrive system has come a long way, as well, and though there's still a few too many twists, clicks, and nudges for true user-friendliness, it's world's better than the version I remember from Automobile's 2003 Four Seasons BMW 745i, which we described as "frustrating, counterintuitive, goofy, clumsy, silly, PITA, convoluted, iGnorant, and — worst of all — distracting."
The aspects of the GT that really make me swoon are the way it's put together, the quality of the materials, and the dazzling implementation of advanced technology (to wit, that sensational 10.25-inch high-def display). Admittedly, a lot of what I enjoyed most about the car were parts included in that $21,000 in options. I wonder how I'd feel about a $64,000 550i Gran Turismo.
The 5-series GT is an odd creation; pictures of it are proof enough of that. It's a lot like the Honda Accord Crosstour — just like it, really, only a few rungs higher up the market. It's derived from the 5-series, but shares remarkably little with the sedan, looks-wise. And it's big. The first time I sat in the car, it seemed to me a whole like more 7-series GT than 5-series GT. But despite its size, it defiantly seats only four, with a dramatic center console between rear seats that (in my test vehicle) feature heating and cooling.
BMW bills the GT as sort of an SUV antidote, but I haven't quite figured out what about it is better or easier to live with than the company's own SUVs — okay, SAVs. The fuel economy is godawful: I got about 16 mpg on a long highway run. And cargo capacity seems only so-so: less than the cheaper 5-series wagon, and less than the more versatile X5 and X6. I am amused by that wacky hatch, though, which opens as a quasi-trunk lid or a full-on lift back. Crazy.
Dynamically, I have to agree with reviewers who complained about limited wheel travel and some unfortunate damping characteristics, factors seemed particularly pronounced on the cobblestone streets in my neighborhood. I also had a hard time finding the GT all that quick. Four hundred horsepower is terrific, really, but when the car tips the scales at 4938 pounds, every one of those ponies has its work cut out for it. Actually, 4938 pounds is the GT's standard curb weight; my car's $21,000 in options (bottom line: $85,000, up from a base price of $63,900) doubtless added a couple hundred more.
That said, weight may be the enemy on the racetrack, but it's a very fine friend on the Interstate. The GT is an absolute dream at (and well above) highway speeds: supremely quiet and never less than utterly composed. The iDrive system has come a long way, as well, and though there's still a few too many twists, clicks, and nudges for true user-friendliness, it's world's better than the version I remember from Automobile's 2003 Four Seasons BMW 745i, which we described as "frustrating, counterintuitive, goofy, clumsy, silly, PITA, convoluted, iGnorant, and — worst of all — distracting."
The aspects of the GT that really make me swoon are the way it's put together, the quality of the materials, and the dazzling implementation of advanced technology (to wit, that sensational 10.25-inch high-def display). Admittedly, a lot of what I enjoyed most about the car were parts included in that $21,000 in options. I wonder how I'd feel about a $64,000 550i Gran Turismo.
Yesterday, I drove my wife to our local Honda dealership for a closer look at the Accord Crosstour. Afterward, upon learning that the big BMW wasn't mine, a relieved look came over the salesman's face. "Yeah, that X6 sure is ugly," he said. I informed him that this car wasn't an X6, to which he replied, "You mean they made another one that looks like that?"
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