I bought my Z4 back in February. Just a little 2.0 E85 in Titan Silver. Nothing too exotic. I thought I’d recount my experience so far. So, I’ll muse away.
As in all new relationships there’s been ups and downs. I’m certainly enjoying the experience but it’s not been all sweetness and light. The Zed is a demanding mistress (stop that sniggering at the back). And she’s definitely a ‘she’. Contrary, beguiling and excessively irritating. Sometimes all at the same time.
I decided at the outset to keep a file of paperwork to record all the work done to the Zed. The initial file’s capacity was way too small. Schoolboy error. I’ve already had to move on to a full-size lever-arch job. And I’ve labelled it ‘No 1’. Because I now know there will be multiple successor files.
I’ve thrown myself into making the Zed the best she can be. The list of tasks completed is already long and has involved much pain. Mental and physical. Cuts, scars and bruises are all doing okay now. Thanks for asking. As to the mental health … best don’t ask about that.
The list of improvements/replacements/preventative maintenance grows by the day.
Here goes: new front suspension, new disks and pads all round, multitudinous gaskets changed on the engine (she still leaks though. God know from where), new timing chain, new clutch, DAB radio, replacement radiator, fresh oil in all orifices, filters of every description changed, new tyres (run flats are the invention of the Prince of Darkness and had to go immediately) …… the list could go on. But I’ll give you a break. Except to say that, yes, a stubby aerial is now in place. I understand that this is compulsory for all Zed owners. In fact, it's the Law.
Today, a real man with a welding torch is (hopefully) repairing a crack in the exhaust manifold. And I’m going to embark on some vinyl wrapping of interior trim this week.
The biggest surprise has been the affordability of the parts. They are good value and, if you do the work yourself, the cost of replacing bits is exceptionally reasonable. The Internet is your best friend. As is this forum, which has offered up so much amazing advice. Thank you for that.
The Zed even has a name now. Amanda.
I know it’s usually a girl thing to name your car but this notion just popped into my head one day. During yet another day of grappling with the car’s nether regions, in fact. Stick with me on this. Why Amanda, you ask? Well, because the Zed reminds me somewhat of that well-known TV personality, Ms Holden.
How so, you ask?
Okay, let’s explore this:
Both have a rather appealing shape.
Neither look their age …. although, to be fair, the Zed has definitely spent less time in the body shop, is largely original and isn’t full of filler.
Both are most fun with their tops off.
Ms Holden appears rather ‘high maintenance’ and the Zed most certainly shares this trait.
They both share a love of glitzy adornments. AH likes to show off her designer gear, shoes and jewellery. The Zed is proud to flaunt the ‘M’ seats, wheel and nicely weighted knob (is that you sniggering again?).
Both AH and the Zed make my other half mad. The former because I’m somewhat inclined to leer, in an unseemly fashion, when she’s on screen and the latter because I now have to devote 99% of my time keeping the blasted car on the road.
If I knew then what I know now, would I do it all again?
Of course I would.
For starters, I can’t afford a new car that’s like the little Zed. A basic level new Z4 starts at around £35k. I get an awful lot of the pleasure for a very little of the cost.
I’ve learnt a huge amount about cars and how to mend them. I understand them better and enjoy the knowledge. And I have the satisfaction of having done pretty much all of the work myself. The car has given me a sense of purpose and a new passion. And I’ve found a community that enjoys and shares this passion.
If you’re thinking of buying a Z4, I’d say that you must be aware that you’re going to have to be extremely involved in the car. It will break. It will spring leaks. It’ll squeak, rattle and roll. It’ll drive you slightly bonkers. Or completely mad.
But when the sun shines, the roof is down and you’re flying along a back road, it’ll all make sense.
Sort of, anyway. Until a warning light pops up on the dash ……
Ian
As in all new relationships there’s been ups and downs. I’m certainly enjoying the experience but it’s not been all sweetness and light. The Zed is a demanding mistress (stop that sniggering at the back). And she’s definitely a ‘she’. Contrary, beguiling and excessively irritating. Sometimes all at the same time.
I decided at the outset to keep a file of paperwork to record all the work done to the Zed. The initial file’s capacity was way too small. Schoolboy error. I’ve already had to move on to a full-size lever-arch job. And I’ve labelled it ‘No 1’. Because I now know there will be multiple successor files.
I’ve thrown myself into making the Zed the best she can be. The list of tasks completed is already long and has involved much pain. Mental and physical. Cuts, scars and bruises are all doing okay now. Thanks for asking. As to the mental health … best don’t ask about that.
The list of improvements/replacements/preventative maintenance grows by the day.
Here goes: new front suspension, new disks and pads all round, multitudinous gaskets changed on the engine (she still leaks though. God know from where), new timing chain, new clutch, DAB radio, replacement radiator, fresh oil in all orifices, filters of every description changed, new tyres (run flats are the invention of the Prince of Darkness and had to go immediately) …… the list could go on. But I’ll give you a break. Except to say that, yes, a stubby aerial is now in place. I understand that this is compulsory for all Zed owners. In fact, it's the Law.
Today, a real man with a welding torch is (hopefully) repairing a crack in the exhaust manifold. And I’m going to embark on some vinyl wrapping of interior trim this week.
The biggest surprise has been the affordability of the parts. They are good value and, if you do the work yourself, the cost of replacing bits is exceptionally reasonable. The Internet is your best friend. As is this forum, which has offered up so much amazing advice. Thank you for that.
The Zed even has a name now. Amanda.
I know it’s usually a girl thing to name your car but this notion just popped into my head one day. During yet another day of grappling with the car’s nether regions, in fact. Stick with me on this. Why Amanda, you ask? Well, because the Zed reminds me somewhat of that well-known TV personality, Ms Holden.
How so, you ask?
Okay, let’s explore this:
Both have a rather appealing shape.
Neither look their age …. although, to be fair, the Zed has definitely spent less time in the body shop, is largely original and isn’t full of filler.
Both are most fun with their tops off.
Ms Holden appears rather ‘high maintenance’ and the Zed most certainly shares this trait.
They both share a love of glitzy adornments. AH likes to show off her designer gear, shoes and jewellery. The Zed is proud to flaunt the ‘M’ seats, wheel and nicely weighted knob (is that you sniggering again?).
Both AH and the Zed make my other half mad. The former because I’m somewhat inclined to leer, in an unseemly fashion, when she’s on screen and the latter because I now have to devote 99% of my time keeping the blasted car on the road.
If I knew then what I know now, would I do it all again?
Of course I would.
For starters, I can’t afford a new car that’s like the little Zed. A basic level new Z4 starts at around £35k. I get an awful lot of the pleasure for a very little of the cost.
I’ve learnt a huge amount about cars and how to mend them. I understand them better and enjoy the knowledge. And I have the satisfaction of having done pretty much all of the work myself. The car has given me a sense of purpose and a new passion. And I’ve found a community that enjoys and shares this passion.
If you’re thinking of buying a Z4, I’d say that you must be aware that you’re going to have to be extremely involved in the car. It will break. It will spring leaks. It’ll squeak, rattle and roll. It’ll drive you slightly bonkers. Or completely mad.
But when the sun shines, the roof is down and you’re flying along a back road, it’ll all make sense.
Sort of, anyway. Until a warning light pops up on the dash ……
Ian
