This thread's pretty dead, but I figured I'd share my incredibly lucky experience with buying my Alpine White 1991 318is from the second owner (who owned it since 1992) two weeks ago.
I've been wanting one of these cars for years. I hate boring daily's, and an M42 e30 seemed ideal. Fun to drive, economical, reliable, and could get me through the occasional autocross. Every one I’ve found has either been too expensive or beat to within inches of its life. I wanted something stock and well cared for at a reasonable price, which seemed to be too much to ask for. To kill some time on a boring Wednesday morning, I did a search on craigslist for e30 M42’s. Found nothing in LA, nothing in Orange County, but I was visiting my sister in Phoenix the upcoming weekend…so I checked Phoenix. Listing for a “BMW 318is” for 3,950. Probably a clapped-out e36…
WRONG.
“I am the 2nd owner, bought in 1992.
135380 miles, very well maintained, all records since new.
Always garaged”
A few crappy craigslist photos indicated an e30 car that looked immaculate. I almost couldn’t believe the ad. It looked and sounded like everything I wanted, but there was no phone number. So, I sent an e-mail just to see, pleading my case about being a German car enthusiast and wanting one of these for years. I received a response within a few hours and was short and to the point.
“Buyer backed out, extremely disrespectful. All people contacting me are disrespectful. I want the car going to someone who will love it, and you sound sincere. Would you like to see it?”
I pleaded my case some more, but mentioned I was in LA and wouldn’t be able to come out until Saturday, and I understood if the car sold before then. The response:
“I want you to have my car. I won’t show it to anyone before Saturday. If you have a pilot friend, you can fly here, I live on a private airstrip.”
Private airstrip? I didn’t have a pilot friend, but now I was fascinated. I set up a time, he sent me the address. It was in the middle of the desert, a paved strip of runway with driveways off it leading houses. At the end of his e-mail, he mentioned that as I turned on his street, I had to make sure no planes were taking off or landing. If the car was garbage, at least I’d have a story out of it. My wife was convinced we were going to be the last parts of the human centipede. It took some pleading, but she agreed to drive out with me.
We booked a one-way ticket and my sister picked us up in Phoenix. I borrowed her car, and my wife and I drove well into the desert the following morning. The runway his house was on was off a dirt road that wasn’t labeled, and I drove past it twice. The 5 rusty mailboxes on the edge should have indicated civilization, but they blended into the desert all too well. I checked for planes and turned onto the runway, found the house, and pulled in the driveway off the runway. There was a large hanger at the end of the driveway and a 4x2 car garage off the house. Looked like a dream. I walked up to the front door, and Otto answered the door.
Otto, the car’s owner, spoke with a thick German accent. He proudly proclaimed to be 86 years young, loved flying, and adventuring. His wife Rita told us of the time he drove his 1973 2002 from New York City to Buenos Aires, Argentina and back. Because he could. He was the type of person you read about in fictional stories, almost hard to believe. He was excited to show me the car, took me out to the garage where there were two covered cars at the back, an e46 330i, his wife’s Toyota Solara (which he lamented the existence of), and my new e30.
As he opened the garage door to let the morning desert sunlight in, I was trying the best I could to contain myself. This car was pristine. I couldn’t find a dent on it, and besides paint that could use a good buffing, an engine compartment slathered in 21 years baked on cosmoline, and a dirty underside from being on a dirt road, the car was incredible. The interior was perfect. Flawless dash, and pristine cloth sport seats. Factory radio with CD changer that works, and factory-installed alarm that works. He hadn’t started the car for days because he wanted me to hear it on cold start. It started effortlessly almost immediately and as it settled down into a high cold idle, I was sold.
We drove the car up and down the runway and it was like driving a new car. Sure there were some squeaks and rattles from the 21 year-old interior plastic, but it tracked straight, accelerated great, and handled perfectly. We returned to the house, my wife and his were having tea in the backyard, and he asked if I wanted to see in the hanger. I think he knew I was sold, and it was hard to contain my excitement. I couldn’t believe the experience. He showed me the plane he built himself in 1994 and told me stories about flying to South America, Mexico, and Canada. He had the title and all of the maintenance records in his office in the hanger, and I didn’t even try to haggle the $3,950 price. As I flipped through the records, he mentioned that if anything wore out, he replaced it instantly with BMW parts. Anything less would compromise the integrity of the car. The car is probably worth 50% more in California. I was getting a deal.
He invited us to stay for lunch, but we had to be on our way. I could have spent all day chatting with him, but I had a new e30 to drive, and my sister was expecting us back for her birthday party. I buy and sell cars like crazy, and my sister just rolled her eyes when I pulled up in yet another car, but this time it was different. This thing was what I always wanted. We drove the car from Phoenix to LA that Sunday afternoon without a hitch. The old 14” tires are little out of round, but that’s not a big problem. When I got home, I changed the oil, air filter, fuel filter, timing chain tensioner, spark plugs (from Bosch Platinum to NGK), gearbox oil, and diff oil. Just for my own piece of mind. The car passed smog with ease, even with the stock cat from 1991. The smog guy offered to buy the car from me, saying it's the nicest running e30 he's seen.
I’ve been driving the car for the last few weeks and am completely in love. What a joy this little thing is. This car will break my streak of buying and selling cars for a long time, and I couldn’t be happier about it. I like to recall my story of meeting Otto and learning about the cars 21 years of love. I hope I didn’t bore you all with my lengthy story, but buying experiences like this don’t come along often, and I thought I’d share.
Here’s a photo of the car at a quarter wash as I sprayed off the underbody. I can take more if anyone's interested.
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