My daily car is 35 years old. A Jaguar from another century, another philosophy, another idea of what driving should feel like. It is heavy, impractical, and deeply unbothered by modern expectations. The side mirrors are mostly symbolic, the air conditioning has its own opinions, and every drive requires a small act of trust. I choose it every morning not because it makes sense, but because it makes me feel present.

Which is why new cars rarely impress me.

Yes, it is very easy to impress me with modern technology. Any contemporary vehicle feels like a spaceship compared to my vintage piece of metal. But paradoxically, that also makes it very hard to impress me. Touchscreens, adaptive cruise control, lane assists — I acknowledge them politely and move on. I don’t choose cars for interfaces. I choose them for emotions, for small physical sensations that quietly change the way a day unfolds.

So what does it take to impress me? First — emotions. Second — details that make ordinary moments better.

With the BMW X7 M60i xDrive, the first feeling that surprised me wasn’t excitement. It was respect.

Some people like to pretend that respect on the road doesn’t matter. That it is irrelevant, superficial, ego-driven. I disagree. Respect on the road has very little to do with vanity and a lot to do with how your nervous system behaves in traffic. When other drivers acknowledge you, give way, behave predictably around you, your body relaxes. Your shoulders drop. Your breathing changes. Your brain stops scanning for threats every second.

Driving a premium car is a luxury, and luxury products exist because they make us feel good about ourselves — this is not a moral flaw, it is human nature. They mark personal milestones, effort, progress. There is nothing shameful about enjoying that. And when you feel that the road responds to you, when you sense the weight and authority of what you are driving, it creates a subtle but very real sense of safety and confidence. And yes — it is pleasant.

Then comes the driving itself.

I have always had a clear mental picture of the perfect garage. If wealth were irrelevant, I would have three cars. One large SUV or wagon for calm, long trips with friends and family — which in my case means my bicycle and my dog, because this is my family. One sports car for adrenaline, drama, and unnecessary excitement. And one compact city car for daily errands and urban agility, preferably a convertible, because I am clearly committed to my own aesthetic problems.

What surprised me about the BMW X7 M60i xDrive is that it quietly undermines this fantasy. Against all logic, it plays all three roles — and does it convincingly.

In Comfort mode, it is serenity. The air suspension filters the road so thoroughly that your body stops bracing for imperfections. You aren't driving so much as floating forward, conserving energy without noticing. There is something deeply underestimated about this kind of comfort: it reduces fatigue, irritation, and decision overload. You arrive calmer than you left.

Switch to Sport mode, and the personality shifts completely. The car becomes alert, responsive, almost impatient. Despite its size, it grips the road with confidence, accelerates with an ease that feels slightly inappropriate, and reaches 100 km/h so fast you immediately become aware of every camera watching you. What impressed me most was not the speed itself, but the stability. Nothing feels nervous. Nothing feels dramatic. Power is delivered with composure, which is far more seductive than aggression.

And then there is the city. On paper, a car of this size should feel like a burden in urban environments. In reality, the controllability is excellent. You don’t constantly register its mass. You don’t feel like you are negotiating space. It simply exists comfortably within it. You notice how big it is only when you step out and look back.

As for my convertible fantasy — have you seen the sunroof? It is less a roof and more an invitation to look up. Planet observation without leaving the car.

Driving this exact model in the Dubai Conservation Reserve added another layer of understanding. Of course, this isn't a hardcore off-road vehicle. But it is capable enough to take you places without anxiety. The intelligent all-wheel drive, ground clearance, and traction systems quietly expand your sense of possibility. And suddenly, the car makes perfect sense in this region. Perfect highways, long distances, desert escapes, heat, comfort expectations — this isn't excess. This is alignment with the environment.

When it comes to exterior and interior design, everything is predictably well executed. But again, it is the small details that matter.

For example, cooled cup holders placed exactly where you want them. Not hidden in a deep compartment, but immediately accessible. If you have ever driven after a long ride with electrolytes next to you, you understand how irrationally important this is. Cold drink. No delay. No compromise.

Seats deserve serious respect. After 30, you stop laughing at lumbar support. Side bolstering, adjustability, posture — these aren't marketing terms, they are quality-of-life decisions. Long trips punish your body more than you realise. The seats in the BMW X7 are so comfortable that I genuinely thought about replacing my couch with them just to watch Netflix in the evening.

Screens are another surprisingly emotional subject. We are collectively exhausted by oversized displays trying to entertain us while we drive. BMW gets the proportions right. Large enough to be useful, restrained enough to stay in the background. Apple CarPlay works flawlessly. Maps are clear. Information is available without demanding attention. We don’t need a cinema inside a car. We need clarity.

And then there is sound.

The Bowers & Wilkins Diamond Surround Sound System completely recalibrates what listening to music in a car can be. This isn't background noise — it is immersion. The quality is so refined that familiar songs suddenly feel new. You stop skipping tracks. You stay in the car longer. There is something almost private about it, like being alone in a concert hall. For me, the car is almost the only place where I truly listen to music anymore, and this system turns that time into something close to ritual.

I have always believed that when it comes to premium cars, you shouldn’t choose with logic alone. Rationally, the BMW X7 M60i xDrive is excellent. The numbers support it. The engineering confirms it. The facts are all there.

But premium objects don’t convince you — they resonate with you.

There is an important distinction psychology makes between need and desire, and we tend to misunderstand it. Needs are about survival and function; desire is about meaning, identity, and emotional regulation. Consumer research consistently shows that premium purchases are rarely about utility — they are about how an object helps us regulate internal states: confidence, calm, motivation, even a sense of continuity in who we are. Desire isn’t the opposite of logic; it is the mind responding to something that feels coherent with our inner narrative. We don’t want objects because we lack them — we want them because they mirror something we recognise in ourselves. And when desire is acknowledged rather than rationalised away, it often becomes quieter, cleaner, and strangely easier to trust.

So switch on your senses. Do you feel an urge to go somewhere far when you hear the engine? Does the car make you smile when you approach it? Does the leather feel immediately satisfying under your hands? Does your body relax the moment you sit down? Do you feel that small, irrational flutter in your stomach when you press the accelerator?

I did. And if you do too, you already understand why this car exists.