My 2003 BMW 760Li: When “Needs Nothing” Means “Needs Everything”

Image of a 2003 BMW 760Li in a driveway

I am still angry about this one. In 2022, rather than import a slightly larger, more powerful car to serve in family duty, I decided to buy a car already in America with the idea that I could get it locally serviced. Because it would be for me, I would buy the kind of car I had always wanted –an excessively powerful luxury sedan, which ended up being a 2003 BMW 760Li. Instead of what I envisioned, what I got was the single-worst automotive experience of my life.

A brief search led me to an eBay listing for the car I would soon purchase. It was beautiful, and per the listing, it needed nothing. It had the 6.0 liter V12, mated to a 6-speed automatic. There was a fridge in the back seat, and roof-mounted AC controls for rear passengers (who could also control the rear seat position). The seats all had ventilation, and the front seats would massage you. Obviously, I was hooked. I made an offer and it was quickly accepted.

Woman for scale
This would have been great, if it had ever worked.

The seller was located on the southern end of Illinois, so I flew out with a friend to drive the car back to New Mexico. The plan was to drive back in a straight shot overnight, relying on the 6.0 V12 and my Valentine V1 radar to keep us moving fast. While I do not know how this plan might have worked in practice, I know I never got the opportunity to try it. Despite a clean scan and very nice manners around town, the car was junk. While it was advertised as “needing nothing,” it actually needed a transmission. Fourth through sixth gears were gone. I texted the seller, who denied all knowledge.

First night
Sitting at the dealership, waiting for repair

What should have been an overnight drive turned into a day and a half of tedious, cautious driving at about 70 MPH. We limped into a little town called Liberal, Kansas around 3:00 a.m. and spent the night at a decent hotel, leaving the next morning. We managed to make our way back to Santa Fe the next day, at which point I left the car with Santa Fe BMW, who confirmed after a month that the car needed just about everything.

For the next six months, I would spend thousands of dollars trying to fix this turd. It took me four months to find somebody who would touch the transmission in the car. Once that was fixed, the alternator failed and took the starter with it. Then the A/C compressor failed, and that revealed serious problems elsewhere in the A/C lines, necessitating the disassembly of the interior.

Once all that was done, it was a wonderful car for the five minutes it worked. It was fast, comfortable, and it handled decently. Unfortunately, the engine failed without warning, and I ended up selling the car to the repair shop for the sum of one dollar. I never collected the dollar, and I would not feel right taking it.

The lawyers car

The only reason this car is worth mentioning is the lawsuit that I filed against the seller, and the life lesson I learned. Specifically, I learned to research the people I do business with. Had I researched this crook, I would have learned that he had gone bankrupt before; that he was liquidating all the businesses in the community he claimed viewed him as a respected businessman; that he had resigned suddenly from a hospital’s board of directors without explanation within the preceding six months; and that he had just incorporated a new business in Florida. All of this indicated he was getting ready to flee a community that he claimed to be a pillar of.

Had I called any of his businesses, I would have learned the negative opinions his community had of him. All of this came out in discovery. I settled for a refund that would bring my purchase price to the scrap value of the car, and I left him to his business. In writing this, I find he is being sued in Florida by an industrial coatings company. I’m glad to be rid of him, and I am glad to be rid of the 760Li.