Alistair Cooke would have called it
 a quintessentially American success story: Two foreigners land on our 
shores from nations once defeated and destitute to seek fortunes in the 
land of their conqueror. Lofted to unimaginable heights by the updraft 
of postwar prosperity, they become business empires unto themselves.
How
 much should we read into the common narratives of Honda and BMW? Both 
are smaller firms relative to the giants of the industry, yet they have 
remained steadfastly independent as others have buddied up into global 
conglomerates. Both companies have an inordinately strong sense of 
identity, rooted in engineering and nurtured at some point in their 
histories by a single patron or family. Both make motorcycles. And after
 nearly four decades of continuous success in America, the BMW 3-series 
and the Honda Accord are themselves automotive dynasties.
The
 Honda Accord is perfectly named, the result of a timely accord between 
Japan’s burgeoning industrial might and America’s rapidly changing 
post-OPEC market. The first Accord in 1976 was a huge stride from the 
series of mostly obscure subcompacts that preceded it. Building on the 
Civic CVCC, the Accord was a polished and precision Japanese instrument 
in the mold of a contemporary Sony tape recorder or a Nikon camera, and 
it threw Detroit’s complacency into glaringly sharp relief.
Even
 so, the Accord is America’s Honda. We own it, and it is ours. It was 
the first Japanese car to be assembled here—indeed, in the middle of 
America, in Rust-Belt Ohio—and it grew and morphed with the needs of its
 prime constituency, the baby-boom generation. It even contributed to an
 American-style scandal in the 1980s when the demand for Hondas far 
outstripped the supply and the company’s U.S. sales managers skimmed 
millions in bribes and kickbacks from dealers desperate for stock.
On
 the showroom floor, the Accord displayed engineering elegance that 
anybody could appreciate, from the perfectly placed cabin controls and 
the painstakingly efficient packaging to the meticulously routed hoses 
and cables under the hood. In motion, an Accord was light, thrifty, fun,
 practical, and incredibly durable. Honda sealed its reputation with the
 Accord, and the car has consistently adhered to its core values through
 nine generations.
There
 isn’t a bad apple in the bushel, but the 1994–1997 fifth-gen is a 
particularly warm memory. The sheetmetal was wrapped tightly, the 
hoodline sloping down to two illuminated slits for headlights. It was 
the first Accord with a V-6 and the first with panache as well as 
purpose. It drove like it, immediately rendering all other cars in its 
class contenders for second place. Since then, the Accord has grown and 
matured—undoubtedly too much in the just-retired eighth generation. But 
the redesigned 2013 Accord returned to form as a slightly smaller but 
still unapologetically practical vehicle with acres of glass for 
visibility, a capacious cabin, and that same spry lightness to its 
controls and movements. Once again, the Accord became the standard by 
which the largest and most competitive class of passenger cars is 
judged.
As
 with Honda, BMW is, at heart, a small-car company—an ingrained 
idiosyncrasy that is perhaps the reason it nearly collapsed in the 1950s
 when it tried to produce a series of expensive, handmade sedans and 
coupes. The ensuing boardroom turmoil and threat of takeover by 
Daimler-Benz is what allowed Herbert Quandt and his brother Harald to 
wrest control of the company in 1959 and steer BMW toward its destiny as
 the purveyor of small and boxy ultimate driving machines. It’s the 
reason that the 3-series has always been better than the 5 and the 7.
From
 the start, the 1977 BMW E21 3er and its successors have been built the 
way common-sense enthusiasts would build their cars. The axle loads are 
nearly equal on a trim and tidy rear-drive platform with exactly enough 
room to serve practical needs. No inches or pounds are wasted, and 
nothing but an inline engine will do. Even as others have yielded to the
 temptations of a V-6 or front-drive, with their inherent packaging 
benefits, BMW has stuck to its formula.
As
 each new 3-series debuted, from E30 to E36, and E46 to E90, there was 
never a question of whether there would be a manual transmission 
offered, never a doubt that a sport package or an M version would cure 
whatever plushness BMW had conceded for wider market acceptance. 
Unquestionably, BMW benefited from the floundering of its competitors; 
Mercedes-Benz answered with a dynamic also-ran, and then its quality 
 went into a decade-long spiral before climbing back out, and it took 
Audi 20 years to recover from unintended acceleration. The Japanese and 
American brands were off the radar.
Even
 people whose car passions flow elsewhere have a favorite 3-series 
generation, but we couldn’t develop a consensus in the office. Was it 
the elemental E30; the fully flowered, do-it-all E90; or one in between?
 At one time the 3-series was half of BMW’s volume in the U.S., but the 
best-selling luxury brand in America has lately borne a lot of kittens, 
and the lineup is diluted. Even at around 37 percent of BMW’s U.S. sales
 for the first nine months of 2013, the 3 remains both a profit fountain
 for BMW as well as the ideological center of its brand.
Today,
 the 3 wears a bull’s-eye on its back as every luxury maker now takes 
aim at the fat, lower end of the luxury-car segment, which is the 
$35,000–$45,000 (or $399–$499/month) compact sports sedan. The current 
F30, which in its initial 320i, 328i, and 335i form, or 428i/435i as per
 the coupe’s new designation, is softer than ever and suffers from 
imperfect electrified steering.
But
 it still bears the burdens of its leadership with understated, everyday
 excellence. Anchoring to the road with a balletic balance and a 
satisfying exactness to its controls, the 3 also delivers the premium 
experience—of powertrain isolation, switch feel, and ride 
quality—expected of its premium price.
In
 some ways, the 3-series feels like an expensive Accord, which feels 
like an economy 3-series. Which is exactly what has ensured both such 
long tenures on our 10Best list.