A 3000-mile Z3 odyssey | PH Dream Drive

Having made his Z3 3.0i Sport shipshape, Rob gets the early morning ferry to adventure...

By Rob Slom / Thursday, 18 September 2025 / Loading comments

Name: Robert Slomczynski
Where: France, Spain, France
Cars used: BMW Z3 3.0i Sport, Mazda MX-5 NC 1.8, Mazda MX-5 NC 2.0
Route: London, Reims, Beaune, Embrun, Nice, St Tropez, Avignon, Collioure, Cadaqués, Alqazar, San Sebastián, Sarlat, Angers, London

Fifteen days, three roadsters, and a ferry out of Dover at 6:00am. There’s no better way to burn through European tarmac than with a convoy of drop-tops, a route plan stitched together from YouTube inspiration and a dated TV series - and the excuse of “we’d better do it before we turn grey.”

The Route

We rolled off the ferry and headed straight to Reims for the predictable photo op, before pushing on to Beaune. Recommended by a certain magazine-founder-turned-YouTuber, it was a revelation: architectural charm, lively Saturday nightlife, and the perfect first-night stop that we did completely overdo…

From there came the long slog to Embrun, broken up by a swim in Lac du Bourget. Suitably cooled, we tackled the Col du Galibier — steep, cyclist-heavy, and at times more patience test than pure pleasure. Still, the Z3 managed to slip away from the pack on the climbs, proving that six cylinders are always better than four.

Day three delivered the first truly great drive. The D3 swept us round a lake and past a dam before leading into the D900C, a lesser-known technical delight. Here, our group stretched out, co-pilots calling safe overtakes as dented Dacias and stubborn Berlingos fell away in the mirrors.

This was where the car personalities emerged. The Z3, predictably, led from the front with effortless punch. The 1.8 MX-5, loaded lightest thanks to a last-minute drop-out, was the surprise of the trip, keeping up in the twisties and occasionally embarrassing the bigger-engined cars. The 2.0 NC was the dependable all-rounder, unflustered across any surface.

Then came the N85. The road opened up, the bends invited bravery, and the straights encouraged a heavier right foot than we’d care to admit. Whether triple digits ever appeared on my speedo I cannot confirm, my eyes were always locked on the next apex. By the time we rolled into Nice for our planned pit stop, we’d been dropped into some of the worst traffic I’ve experienced in years, and this is coming from a London commuter. Progress slowed to a crawl, tempers frayed, but the first sight of the sea and the promise of a big night kept morale up. That night in Nice lived up to the billing — heavy in every sense of the word.

From Nice we made the obvious detour to Monaco. Big mistake. The only redeeming feature was Riviera Radio, which kept us vaguely entertained as we inched through the claustrophobic streets. The harbour was underwhelming, the famous circuit uninspiring without the barriers, and the heat oppressive. We escaped to St Tropez, which turned out to be just what we needed: a fantastic house with its own private beach, lazy afternoons spent recharging, and nightlife with the glitterati that will stick with me forever.

The next leg to Avignon was as odd as the town itself, a mix of whacky charm, a little grit, and a very distinct local culture. Then came one of the most visually impressive drives of the trip: Collioure via a sweeping viaduct. Gravel donuts and cliff jumping brought a bit of mischief before an out-of-hand street party fueled on their local grape.

Collioure to Cadaqués was the kind of road that deserves its own postcard. Sweeping climbs, sheer drops, and huge views of waves smashing into rocky coves. Cadaqués itself slowed the pace but that can't be said for the last 15 miles into it; here I would say we gave the cars the harshest blast and driving euphoria peaked. The picturesque seaside town where we stayed in a wonderfully eccentric house dripping in tapestries owned by a charming German and Chelsea-born couple.

From there, the road trip’s endurance stage: Cadaqués to Alqazur. Eleven hours behind the wheel, the highlight being the N260 — a serpentine ribbon of tarmac that made the hours feel worthwhile. At one point we were halted by a landslide in the late afternoon, but none of us minded; it felt like we were exactly where we were meant to be.

Alqazur to San Sebastián changed the character of the trip again, the roads tightened, the scenery turned greener, and an Alpine feel took over as we slipped into Basque country. San Sebastián’s food and nightlife were outstanding, though the second night was suspiciously similar to the first. Perhaps a sign we’d made ourselves too at home.

The final push took us to Sarlat in the Dordogne region. It was a beautiful setting to decompress, stone streets, warm evenings, and superb wine. This to me felt like our final hoorah before turning the continuing convoy north for the long journey back to Blightey with a rural stay in a chateau outside of Angers.

Why It’s a Dream Drive

Being in my mid-20s, most lads’ holidays mean cheap flights to a party destination — sunburn, pool bars, and nights that blur together. I wanted something different. Meet the Neighbours was an impressionable lockdown discovery, as well as The Persauders. Clarkson pairing a Jaguar with a Moby soundtrack, breezing from one culture to another with the sort of confidence that made you think, “I have to do that one day.” That idea — to cover huge distances dripping in denim, seeing wildly different places, and link them all with proper driver’s roads — lodged itself in my brain and never left until I was completing it.

It would be wrong not to mention a phrase that became something of a mantra while executing the trip: “What would Metcalfe do?” In many ways, he’s the instruction manual for how to do a proper driving adventure. I have been a fan for years and his meticulous yet unfussy approach wasn’t about staged challenges or contrived drama. It was about doing the journey right. That meant long, unhurried days behind the wheel, making time for a proper lunch, taking detours just to see what was around the next bend, and letting the road set the rhythm. It was a reminder that the best driving trips aren’t defined by dots on a map, but by the moments and discoveries that happen in between.

So, this wasn’t just a holiday. It was my version of those old-school road trips you hardly see or hear of anymore. The kind where the route is as important as the destination, the convoy changes its character every day, and you come home with a dozen stories you couldn’t possibly have planned. At 24, to tick that box, in three convertibles, with friends who I have now converted from “non believers” to “believers” to be as invested in the drive as I was… I would say mission accomplished.

Highs

Route Napoléon (N85) – Castellane’s backdrop, sweeping lines of sight, and mile after mile of addictive pace.
GI-613, Collioure to Cadaqués – Coastal heaven after a night’s street party; sea spray, rocky coves, and the Z3 in perfect rhythm.
N260, Spanish Pyrenees – The standout. Two days, almost no traffic, and the constant thought of mechanical sympathy. When does one ease off?

Lows

Monaco – Obligatory Riviera tick-box, but painful traffic, stifling heat, and joyless parking. The gradient up to Casino Square impressed me more than the harbour or the circuit. I say proudly: I will never go again unless I am trying to hide something from HMRC.
Alqazar - We found it beautiful but an attempted scam on our booking and a poor meal with appalling service left us feeling uneasy. I did enjoy having a sniff around an old friend in the form of a rare 3.8 XK150S roadster in a car park, mind.

If You Go

Hit the mountain passes early to dodge the cyclists and heat.
Don’t ignore the “unknown” roads — D900C was as good as any famous pass.
Mix your convoy if possible — nothing stirs the banter like the 'slow' car keeping the 'fast' one honest.
Really do consider fresh rubber (thanks again, Michelin); the benefits are felt everywhere