It’s not just about wedging in as many people as possible. BMW after all makes a cheaper seven-seater in the rather timid form of the 2 Series Gran Tourer. The car to take your gran touring in.
The X7 by contrast is about luxury. It takes themes from the facelifted 7 Series and the 8er, to make BMW’s three-flagship fleet. They want us to see this top-end trio as a separate high-end luxury series.
As a clue, they add the strapline Bayerische Motoren Werke to all the advertising. Why? Because the fashion business often uses the full name for the top-end stuff (Paul Smith, Calvin Klein) and initials for the diffusion line (PS, CK). If you find this almost comically subtle, we’re right with you.
But these aren’t really a separate line. In design and tech, they’re bigger, better, plusher BMWs. End of. If you like BMWs, that’s fine; they polish up the brand. What the 8 Series and X7 don’t do is provide the stand-apart specialness of an Aston Martin or Range Rover, a car the X7’s project team call a rival.
Unlike the Range Rover, all X7s have three rows of seats. The middle row has the option of either a pair of plush individual thrones, or a three-seat split bench, making this a nursery-run charabanc of unparalleled luxury. Which no-one will use it for.
As usual BMW has thrown masses of technical wizardry at the chassis, so this truck-sized monster can perform surprising off-road feats. Which no-one will use it for.
The same technologies make it track-capable. Which no-one will use it for. (The M50d version, a 2,450kg diesel off-roader, equals the Nordschleife time of the V8-engined E90 M3. Yet more proof that a quick ‘Ring time says nothing about what makes a driver’s car.)
All of which makes the X7 sound vastly pointless. But do those abilities actually foster a sense of well-being and fathomless indomitability, or do they make it cumbersome and compromised?
