| Product: |
BMW 5-series (pre-1988) |
| Date: |
26/11/03 (217 review reads) |
| Rating: |
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Advantages: Brings back so many car memories
Disadvantages: Brings back so many car memories
please skip this first bit to be able to read the review with capital letters intact. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a. a.
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*NOTE* "Dumbo", aka 2Quizzy, put this in the wrong car category, but thanks to aefra and Katie it will be moving to the right spot soon.
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The Green Mamba is one of Africa's deadliest snakes. It's related to the cobra and like the cobra the venom affects the heart and breathing. It can kill within 30 minutes. It's a slender elegant snake with a light apple green skin.
It's also the nickname for the only car I have ever hated which hated me equally in return.
At first I thought I'd give this challenge a miss since I've never owned my own car and so don't get to drive often. Then as I started reading the great stories of other people's most memorable cars the Green Mamba slithered into my mind.
I've never been the type of person who names machines or gives inanimate objects personalities. Ok, I do yell at my computer, but that's different. No human being on this planet working with computers can get through their life without yelling at them. It's part of standard computer-using procedure. Right up there with learning the hard way what "cannot find document" REALLY means. The Green Mamba is an exception though as this car really did have personality.
The Green Mamba in my life was a bright apple green BMW 518, I think it's year was 1974, but I can't remember now. My dad had been doing work at a BMW showroom. He was working as an electrician putting in new lighting and got friendly with the manager. The manager mentioned to him that the display car in the main window was going on sale. Would he be interested? An almost brand new BMW
518 for the less than half the normal price? What a question!
So that was how the Green Mamba came into our lives.
My mom adored that car. It had real leather seats in palest cream and all the BMW trimmings. I liked it at first, but things would change as the years went by. Interestingly my pet poodle hated it from the first day, but he and I were the only ones. The rest of the family thought it was the bargain of the century and the best car ever. Admittedly the apple green colour was rather bright, but since there were only two apple green BMWs ever made by the BMW factory in East London, South Africa that kind of made us feel rather unique. It also made us stand out like a beacon in our small hometown which was a mixed blessing. Everyone knew who to wave hello to, but you could never go anywhere without the entire town knowing about it.
Amongst my friends it got mixed reactions. A lot of them disapproved of me now being driven around in a "snob" car. Of course these were some of the same friends who didn't mind quite so much when my mom took us all through to the movies in it! For the record you can fit seven teenagers and one mother in a BMW 518, but just make sure the police don't see you! Oh sorry, seven teenagers, one mother and one very important toy poodle.
Why did the poodle hate the Green Mamba? Because it had luxurious adjustable bucket seats and a raised centre for the gear lever that made the front floor area very restricted. His first car had been a Ford automatic and he used to lie in the centre of the wide open front floor with his nose wedged against the bottom air vent being force-fed the outdoor smells. The BMW had side air vents and nowhere for a dog to lie in luxury. The back was as bad. Enough room for human feet, but too small and dark for a dog who considered himself Emperor of the family. Lying on a back floor was too demeaning for his tastes. Added to his misery there were no little
side windows to poke his head out and the back window was angled to a degree where the sun came in and heated him up like a pie in a warming drawer. He'd spend an entire trip in that car moving from place to place sighing and glaring at us as if to say, "I'm in extreme discomfort and it's all your fault!"
Why did I grow to hate the Green Mamba? I can't remember exactly when, but I can tell you why. Within a year or two it started acting up. We'd stop at a shop or a friend's house.. and it just wouldn't start again. At first my dad tried to figure it out himself, then he called in the friends and all the men would stand in the garage and stare into it's unfathomable depths. When all their tweaking and fiddling left us no better off the Green Mamba was sent on to the mechanics - plural. Over the years that car was to visit every single mechanic in our area and beyond. We even sent it back to BMW themselves. Everyone had theories about the ailment, but no one ever cured it. Thinking back the warnings signs had been there from pretty early on. A German mechanic friend had a look at it just after we bought it. He commented that it had been in an accident at some time and in his opinion the engine had been patched and we should sell it ASAP. It seemed crazy at the time that this sleek shiny new car could be "impaired" so my parents decided to keep it against his advice.
Whatever happened to it before it came to us it we'll never know. All I can say is that it never worked like a sane normal car. You'd go for months with everything perfect and then one day you'd turn the key and.. nothing. We had the starter motor replaced as well as all sorts of other bits I have no names for. Car innards aren't my strong point. All I know is it spent more time in surgery than any car I've ever known and nothing ever took the problem away.
The weird thing is it rarely refused to start at
home, it only saved this for humiliating or annoying times and places. It would usually start if pushed and I have pushed that ***** car more times than I even want to remember. I've pushed it in high heels and evening dress in the middle of the night, I've pushed it in pouring rain and gale force winds, I&#
39;ve pushed it uphill to be able to get to a downhill and I've pushed it across a main road in full rush hour traffic. It's favourite trick was to stick in parkings facing down so that you had to struggle gasp and sweat to get it up and out before you could even begin pushing it to start it. My personal all-time favourite though is a day when I went with my mom to the doctor and had to push it wearing summer mule sandals. Every time I pushed I shot out my shoes and I must admit as hot and angry as I was it was hilarious.
On the plus side we made a lot of friends in those days. It's interesting to see who will stop and offer to help and who won't. My all-time thanks goes to a lovely lady in gold jewellery and teeny weeny gold sandals who pushed us up a hill when my mom came to get me from hospital. I couldn't push or drive and we were totally stuck that day until our glittery guardian angel arrived on the scene. How she managed to push us in those sandals is surely a miracle.
It had another sneaky trick too. Sometimes it would start if you let it stand a while, but there were no guarantees. So you could sit there like an idiot for an hour and still find it wouldn't start. Plus pushing didn't always work. Out of every ten times it refused to start there would be maybe three times where pushing was fruitless. Then you'd still be stuck, but now you were also stuck in the middle of a road. As this was in the days before mobile phones if we were stuck one of us would have to hike off to find a payphone. Can I now say to the mean old man in the tea room who wouldn't let me use his telephone even when
I promised I'd pay ? GO SUCK LEMONS! I had to walk miles further to find a phone that day. Sometimes if we got stuck in town we'd simply leave it and get a bus, but we lived out in the country beyond bus routes and tarred roads so sometimes being stuck was a major disaster.
Why didn't we get rid of it? Well, everyone was convinced we'd finally figure the problem out and then it would be okay. Optimism kept us trapped. It looked so good and it sounded so good and to be honest is was a very safe and pleasurable car to drive once it started. It had a way of hugging the road when you turned corners and a deep rumbly purr that made you feel you were driving something special. BMW is a first class car. Ours just never was "right". I am sure there are lots of good sound logical reasons for this, but I still tend to lean towards demonic possession.
Which brings me to my statement that the Green Mamba hated me. I learnt to drive in that car, but once I had my license I rarely drove it. Not out of choice, but out of fate or deliberate spite. I'd get up in the morning and say, "I'll drive to town today" and we'd walk outside and find a tyre was flat, or the battery was flat. It was so weird that everyone in the family commented on it. The only times it ever refused to start at home was on days I tried to drive it. Once, when I got really mad and said, "I'm driving it tomorrow no matter what!".. the water piper snapped whilst we were out and the engine block cracked and eventually the entire engine had to be replaced. That was my wake-up call. That was where I finally admitted defeat and stopped trying to drive it. I'm not a superstitious sort, but that car gave me the creeps. From then on I only ever travelled as passenger and emergency pusher, never as driver.
Over the years I got into the habit of going with my mom if she was travelling far just in case she needed someone to pus
h start. Sometimes we'd go for ages with no problems and then at the most inconvenient time and place it would throw it's little tantrum. The worst was the day my grandfather was rushed to hospital. We were following behind until we stopped at traffic lights and never started again! That day no one stopped to help us, for some reason. People were hooting and passing as I tried to push through the traffic with my gran having a panic fit that we'd arrive at the hospital too late.
So it was decided that the time had finally come for the Green Mamba to move on. A young enthusiastic friend begged us to sell it to him. He was convinced that a car that looked that good could be fixed. We tried to put him off, but he was convinced he could turn the old serpent around. Eventually we sold her to him for the absolute minimum and waited to see how long it would take before he gave up in despair.
Life was busy and time passed. My parents got a new car and never looked back. Well.. my mom still says she misses the Mamba, but we all shriek and block our ears when she says so. The young friend never said a word. We only knew he'd sold it when an old family friend phoned to say, "Have you seen where the Green Mamba is now?"
He said he'd been on his way to work at about 6:00 am when he'd seen "them". Three "ladies of the night" getting into bright apple green BMW! There was no mistake. We phoned the young friend and he confessed all. He'd sold the Green Mamba to an escort agency. Even now friends who remember us regularly call to say when and where they've seen the Green Mamba, usually in the early hours of the morning being pushed down the road by women in tight skirts, high heels and fish net stockings.
What more can I say? ;)
**If you want to take part, please include CARS OF MEMORY in the title and include the following paragraph:
"This review is part of t
he CARS/MOTOR BIKES OF MEMORY challenge where members are asked to write about cars/motor bikes which bring back memories. ** Katie says she will hurry through any item requests. If they are flagged "Motors" she will see they go through as quickly as possible. She also asks that they not be "In General". Any w
hich have consumer information will be eligible for crowns. **"
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