A long time seems to have passed since my first journal in May 2006, describing the fast but flawed Renault Mégane 225, at the end of which I revealed that it was on its way out, usurped by a six-cylinder, RWD upstart.

That replacement – a BMW 325ti Sport Compact in Mystic Blue – has now been with me for as long as the fast Frenchie was. I’d actually been hankering after one of these long before my brief but entertaining flirtation with the Renault, as it seemed to me that the combination of a silky six, fabled dynamics and hatchback practicality was one that couldn’t be argued with.

So, when this one popped up on BMW’s approved used website complete with a healthy spec including full leather, bi-xenons and a CD changer, I snapped it up. The mileage was on the high side at 52,000, but I wasn’t concerned about that and it turned out to feel a lot fitter with that distance under its tyres than the 225 had at 18,000. I was pleased that it wasn’t silver or black, which seem to be the default colours for similar cars, but in any case, you don’t see many 325ti Sports around, so in BMW terms it’s quite a rarity!

The driving experience took a bit of getting used to after the Mégane – I had evidently traded a blunt instrument for a precision tool. Gone was the fiery torque of the 225’s excellent turbocharged 2.0 four, replaced by six cylinders and 2.5 litres of linear, satin power. My journey back from the dealer was completed mostly on the M25 and M40, and I was routinely caught out by the need to change gear to access decent forward motion in situations where the 225 would have bolted in sixth. Gone, too, was the gluey electric steering and rather nondescript handling of the Renault, and in their place a weighty, precise helm, sticky grip, flat cornering and a sensation of inertia-free agility. Once I’d dialled in to the straight six with its sonorous engine note, things were looking good.

Time and the passing of 7,000 miles have heightened these impressions, although it has brought to my attention some less appealing aspects. Foremost of these is the incredibly firm ride. Not only can it be painfully hard – worse, let it be said, than a friend’s 130i M Sport which wears the much maligned runflats – but the rear end is easily unsettled by undulations, bouncing sharply with none of the fluid composure of, say, a basic Ford Focus. This is not only pretty uncomfortable, but it affects traction – the DSC light winks with alarming regularity on the bumpy lanes I use every day, even on the lightest of throttle openings. I’ve recently tried setting the rear tyre pressures a pound lower than recommended, which does seem to have helped matters. Previously I had assumed that this was a trait common to all 3-series in Sport trim, but a recent fortnight spent driving a 325Ci Sport convertible proved this not to be the case. Despite its 18” wheels, the convertible rode more serenely and felt more composed and balanced than the Compact, helped no doubt by the extra weight it was hauling about.

Still, the Compact is generally enjoyable to drive and on the right roads – wide, smooth and flowing – it is a joy. Partly this is because the Compact is a great place to sit. The E46 interior is one that I’ve always liked for its stylish yet ergonomically superb design. The dashboard just looks perfect to my eyes, and all the controls fall easily to hand. The chunky steering wheel is great, the rakish seats look good, hold you in the right places and adjust in every which way, and the gearlever is just a flick of the wrist away, albeit commanding a snappy but sometimes graunchy change. The materials used are first class, and while there are one or two rattles it’s nothing that you wouldn’t expect in a car that has now achieved its 60,000th mile.

So far, running costs have been fairly reasonable. I have no complaints about fuel economy, which consistently works out at between 30 and 32mpg, although a recent Inspection 2 service set me back a bit more than my wallet felt happy with. In terms of regular running, that’s really all I’ve shelled out so far. An ignition coil did fail early on, but this was replaced with startling efficiency by BMW Emergency Services, who were at my house about an hour after I first called them and got me going within ten minutes, having replaced all the coil packs as a precaution. Other than that, its tyres are all as good as new when I took delivery, although I can’t wait to bin the Conti SportContacts on the back (it wears SportContact2s at the front) because, firstly, I like all my tyres to be the same and, secondly, they strike me as being fairly rubbish – not at all progressive and a twitchy nightmare in deep standing water.

The only other costs incurred have been the result of a tragic unplanned interruption to my ownership of the smallest 3. Back in August, a few minutes after leaving work one evening, I was embroiled in a fatal road accident, when a biker went to overtake me and smashed head-on into a car coming the other way. Damage to the Compact caused by hitting debris was minimal – it would need a new bumper and a respray to the bonnet – and it could have been driven away, but because it had been involved, albeit as a third party, the police impounded it for examination and I didn’t see it for two weeks.

During that fortnight I did wonder if I’d ever want to get into the BMW again. It was in a sorry state when I went to reclaim it, with the bumper hanging off and the wrecked bike’s oil coating the front end. A few lashings of gaffer tape held it together until it went into my local BMW bodyshop, where it was restored to full health, bar the fitment of black kidney grilles instead of the chromed jobs that mark out the six-cylinder models, an indignity that I insisted be rectified as quickly as possible!

However, I was somewhat spoilt while the Compact was in sick bay by the aforementioned 325Ci Sport convertible that the accident management company handling my case provided. I had always been utterly cynical about the appeal of top-down motoring, but I had the good fortune to find myself at the wheel of a roofless BMW just in time to enjoy the mini-heatwave that hit our shores in early September, and I was converted, so to speak. The hood was seldom up when I was in the car, and I loved every minute of it. With its automatic gearbox and softer chassis, the Ci was every inch the cruiser, but this languid demeanour seemed to suit the way I now feel like driving. Handing back the keys and climbing aboard the Compact once more was a bit of a wrench, but I think I’m over it. The seeds of that dreaded new car bug have been sown, though, so I’ll have to see how things go. Even so, the 325ti is staying for now.