E21 BMW 316

This is the origin. And yes, in some ways it has a charmingly year-zero feel about it. Our E21 is startlingly fresh, having covered just 3000 miles (4,828km) since 1975.

The little four-cylinder engine draws life through nothing more complex than a single carburettor. To drop the windows you crank a handle. And while you’re at it, reach through the open glass to adjust the mirrors. Just as well the vents are huge, for there’s no a/c.

The typefaces for the switch and dial labels are oddly unmatched. There’s no rev counter so you don’t know how hard you’re spinning the engine. The gearknob bears just four numerals.

But it’s a perfect place to sit and operate the machinery. The seat and pedals are just-so. Visibility is astounding through deep windows and past slim pillars. It’s wonderfully compact and concise. Take hold of the thin plastic rim on the huge steering wheel and head off.

It isn’t sporty, not by today’s standards. But is is very good. It just bowls along, the ride relatively soft, the tyres lolloping over the terrain. Throw it at a corner and it just sorts outself out. The steering is totally unpowered, but still manages to be very light. And precise. At a cruise you just sit there placidly, no need to saw at the wheel. This car is cuddly, but not at all sloppy. It has real dignity.

The little OHC engine is hale and willing as you like. It’s nothing like the rough and rattly pushrod fours that dominated the era. It’s smooth to rev, even if the lack of tacho means I don’t know how high.

But I don’t mind pushing it, because I know this block could stand up to 1500bhp in qualifying trim in the turbo-era F1 Brabhams.

The engine had evident potential back then. So did the idea of a small BMW saloon…

- Paul Horrell

Next: driving the 1982 ‘E30’ 3-Series