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The Combustion Benchmark
Before packing my bags and heading for Changi to board a long-haul flight to Aix-en-Provence, I did what any self-respecting automotive dinosaur would do: I walked into the garage, unlocked my 1974 BMW 2002, and took it out for an unhurried afternoon spin.
I didn’t take it out to chase lap times or carve up empty highways. I just wanted to recalibrate my senses, to feel where this entire story first began. In an original 02, Freude am Fahren isn’t a glossy marketing tagline dreamt up in an executive board room; it’s the unassisted weight of the steering wheel at low speeds, the mechanical notch of a four-speed shifter engaging second gear, the smell of warm oil and fuel, and the light, unpretentious eagerness of the chassis changing direction, and perhaps, the anxiety when turning the starter key. It’s an exercise in pure mechanical transparency. That joyful, connected baseline was the exact spirit I was hoping to track down in France.
The modern Neue Klasse era officially kicked off with the impressive iX3. This genuinely monumental car debuted BMW’s game-changing 800V Gen-6 architecture and set the technical blueprint for Munich’s electric future. But as important as the iX3 is in leading the charge, anyone with a thread of automotive history running through their veins knows that the 3 Series is where the Neue Klasse moniker carries its deepest spiritual weight. The original 1960s Neue Klasse saved BMW from financial ruin and invented the compact executive sports sedan layout, the exact lineage that birthed the 2002, the E30, and five decades of dynamic benchmarks.
So when I landed in the South of France to test the eighth-generation 3er family, my biases were firmly locked into place. In my head, the hierarchy was settled before I even picked up my test-car keys.
While global markets get a spread of variants, including the mid-tier 320, Singapore’s lineup at launch will be pared down to an entry-point 318 and the full-fat, six-cylinder M350 xDrive.
While I’d respect the technical wizardry of the upcoming electric i3 50 xDrive, between the options laid out in front of us, the car I was truly here to celebrate on day one was that M350 xDrive. A 443-horsepower, TwinPower Turbo inline-six-powered machine complete with quad tailpipes, M Yellow Lights, and an all-wheel-drive setup that felt like one of the last true heirs to the petrol-powered sports sedan throne.
I was ready to crown the B58, write the homage to internal combustion, and call it a day.
But BMW, and the French weather, had very different plans.
M350 xDrive in the Provençal Rain
The moment we stepped outside the hotel to take the keys to the M350 xDrive on our first morning, the skies opened up. There was no sunny morning cruise to warm up to the car; from the second we left the hotel grounds, rain was streaming down the windshield and bouncing off the tarmac.
Conditions were so severely washed out that even BMW’s on-site photographers and videographers had to throw in the towel; it was simply too wet to attempt tracking car-to-car moving shots, leaving the media team stranded with static pit-lane captures. (Which, incidentally, explains why some of the pristine photos accompanying this article feature sun-dappled French asphalt and clear blue skies supplied directly from Munich’s official press pack!)
Aesthetically, the new G50 marks a clear, deliberate evolution over the outgoing G20 generation upon which its updated CLAR platform is built. What makes it particularly fascinating from a design perspective is how the petrol 3 Series adopts the core Neue Klasse design language and visual cues directly from the electric i3. Yet, under the skin, packaging that lovely 3.0-litre straight-six required subtle but significant proportional tweaks to meet the hard engineering realities of internal combustion.
Where the dedicated EV architecture of the i3 allows for a shorter, cab-forward nose, accommodating the longitudinal B58 forced the petrol car to stretch its front sheet metal, pushing the dash-to-axle ratio further back. The result is a distinctly sportier, more classic silhouette, a longer, more purposeful bonnet paired with a lower roofline and a rear end that looks hunkered down over its broader rear track, sitting like a predator ready to pounce.
While our test car looked striking painted in its vivid Fire Red metallic shade, the choice of Jet Black wheels did the overall stance no favours in the overcast drizzle. The dark finish completely enveloped the wheel wells in total darkness, obscuring the intricate wheel design and swallowing the visual gap between tyre and arch.
The contrast became glaringly obvious when we spotted a static display car fitted with traditional bright silver wheels. The silver-wheeled G50 looked infinitely better; the lighter finish proudly put the wheel design on display, adding much-needed visual depth and anchoring the car’s athletic, low-slung stance properly against the bodywork.
While the general public will likely miss these subtle proportional shifts when seeing the cars individually, I suspect opinions within the enthusiast community will be sharply divided. Even among our own test crew on the ground in France, it was nearly impossible to reach a majority consensus on which car wore the Neue Klasse language better from a visual standpoint: the clean, cab-forward minimalism of the EV or the muscular, long-nosed stance of the combustion car. Up front, the M350 further distinguishes itself with motorsport-inspired M Yellow Lights integrated into the double-lamp signature, while four dark exhaust tips peeking out of the rear diffuser leave zero doubt about what’s lurking beneath that long bonnet.
Climbing inside, you see that the interior design similarly mirrors the i3’s Neue Klasse cabin architecture, yet your hand naturally falls to the M350’s centre console, adorned with faceted crystal glass controls. Resting your thumb on that glass starter button and pressing down delivers a satisfying, tactile touchpoint.
As the starter fires, the creamy B58 inline-six purrs to life with a deep, rich baritone, a moment that feels like a rare personal treat in an era where almost every test vehicle we evaluate is electrically propelled. Hearing an engine awaken from its slumber on a cold, wet morning sends a genuine and authentic emotional spark through your chest even before setting off. A proper, living mechanical heart breathing under the bonnet, creating an undeniable sense of occasion and anticipation that no EV sound generator can ever imitate.
Navigating out onto the narrow, single-track B-roads of Provence, the M350’s expanded dimensions do make themselves felt. The G50 is visibly wider than the G20 it replaces, and squeezing past oncoming trucks on tight French lanes in torrential rain kept my knuckles thoroughly white, though perhaps that extra tension was amplified by the fact that we were piloting factory-fresh cars on sheets of standing water.
It was here that the new navigation system and suite of driver assistance features proved to be an absolute godsend. When sheets of water obliterated the physical lane markings and blurred the apexes ahead, the combined ADAS camera suite and 3D live navigation worked seamlessly through the windshield display. Showing dynamic lane geometry and precise lane-level guidance right in our line of sight, the system kept us confidently centred in the right lanes throughout the storm on unfamiliar roads, a calm, digital guiding hand when visibility at times felt almost nonexistent.
Despite the slick surface making it near-impossible to deploy all 443 hp continuously, on brief spurts when I did put my foot down to cheekily call upon the mighty B58, the car responded resplendently. It hauled us straight through the soggy, rain-soaked tarmac with astonishing vigour and joy, and yes, a little bit of trepidation, as I certainly didn’t want to be the first journalist to bin BMW’s brand-new 3er.
That sudden surge of mechanical thrust amidst the spray bordered on an addiction, tempting me to explore the throttle pedal deeper and with even more intensity. But common sense quickly prevailed on flooded public roads. And while our stint with the M350 was ultimately shortened, restrained, and tempered by the severe downpours, it left behind a distinct impression: there is still so much performance left to be discovered here, with the chassis clearly yearning to be properly unleashed on dry, open tarmac. Or dare I say, on a Japanese Touge Road?
Even when I was a bit brave with throttle inputs exiting slick roundabouts, the xDrive system caught every hint of breakaway with supreme composure, subtly shuffling torque to keep everything strictly in check.
Yet what truly impressed me on these imperfect country lanes was the suspension’s remarkable composure. There is still that signature underlying BMW tautness to the ride, but when hitting broken tarmac and mid-corner dips covered in standing water, the adaptive dampers soaked up the harsh edges without skipping or unsettling the chassis. The car moves vertically as one solid unit, keeping the tyre contact patches glued to the wet asphalt and maintaining rock-solid body control.
And perhaps the highest compliment I can pay to the new 3’s multi-faceted abilities came on the journey back down through the mountain passes. Even while driving briskly through winding descent routes in bad weather, the cabin isolation and ride compliance were so serene that my passengers peacefully fell asleep in their seats, a quiet hat-tip to a chassis that can entertain an enthusiast at nine-tenths while keeping everyone else wrapped in effortless luxury.
In place of the electric i3’s “Heart of Joy” computer, the petrol M350 relies on a specialised, dedicated ICE Driving Stack. Rather than running everything off a single EV-centric superbrain, this stack orchestrates a high-speed network of dedicated control units, finely balancing engine management, the 8-speed Steptronic box, and xDrive torque split. Coupled with a 48V mild-hybrid starter-generator inside the gearbox that fills in low-end turbo lag, throttle modulation feels crisp and natural.
Underneath, a redesigned tower-to-front strut brace, a rearward V-brace, and a rigidly mounted steering box give the front axle a bite that feels remarkably classic. You tip it into a bend, and the front end digs in immediately, tracing sweepers with uncanny stability. And for traditionalists, 2027 will bring an over-the-air update unlocking Drift Moment mode, allowing drivers to decouple the front driveshaft via the central screen and send 100% of the B58’s torque strictly to the rear wheels.
Inside, boot capacity remains solid at 450 litres, a slight drop from the G20’s 481 litres, owing to the 48V mild-hybrid hardware and battery packaging beneath the boot floor.
Throughout day one, the B58 was a soulful, booming partner. If I had one minor gripe, it’s that I wished for just a touch more chatter or resistance through the steering rim, in slick conditions, you want to feel every grain of road surface. But the rack was fast, direct, and placed the nose with laser accuracy.
Standing beside the M350 as it ticked cold in the French drizzle, it was impossible not to reflect on the staggering gulf of 50 years. To directly compare this 1,860 kg, 443-horsepower, microprocessor-managed missile to my bare-bones 1974 2002 would be silly. Five decades of progress have brought safety structures, all-wheel-drive computational magic, 48V hybrid integration, and luxury comfort that the engineers in 1970s Munich couldn’t have dreamt up in their wildest sci-fi fantasies.
Yet, as half a century of relentless evolution has swept by, one core truth remains untouched: all that relentless development has always been focused on a single, unwavering north star, the joy of driving. Fifty years on, even wrapped in layers of modern technology, that fundamental thrill still rings entirely true.
As I pulled into the hotel at the end of day one’s drive, drenched but impressed, I sat in the cabin hoping and praying that the morning would bring a respite from the clouds, a chance to see what these cars could do on dry asphalt.
I fell asleep that night thinking the combustion car had set a bar for soul that no electric car could ever touch.
Then came the lightning.
