Beemer’s M division splits a perfect
species into two. We drive the two mutants
Do you concentrate on the rev-counter, or
on the brake pedal? The steering, or the apex? Or do you strain your ears to
let the exhaust note roar above all your anxieties?
Here’s the flashback: a sharp, 90-degree
right-hander is the first serious corner you have to negotiate after you exit
the pits at the Portimao circuit in Algarve, south Portugal. This second-gear
turn tests two very critical factors: braking and cornering grip. Coming into
this curve, you need to have your strategy pretty well chalked out with nary a
doubt about how you intend to tackle it. And that’s where things unraveled for
me: shifting from third to second sent the revs shooting into the mid-7,000s —
a redline figure that seemed rather high for a twin turbocharged straight-six.
Grappling with that new information led to a momentary lapse of concentration which
in turn meant I braked late and got the line wrong. With the rear tyres fast
losing grip and attention still diverted to the exhaust note and the engine
intake sound (is that how they’re supposed to sound?!), I was then confronted
with the ESP taking away the throttle on the exit and waiting for a bit before
finding the full 56.1 kgm of torque at my behest. Was I still driving an M3? Or
was I simply driving it wrong?
The
M3 has adopted a lightweight carbon-fibre-reinforced plastic propshaft
Shaken and bamboozled, I slunk back to the
pit after this first round of laps. I intended to seek out the team that
developed the M3 and tell them that something was wrong. Very wrong (with the
car I hoped). Much to my chagrin, I discovered that that the shortcomings lay
in the way I had been driving. There was absolutely nothing wrong with the car.
Over the years, M3s have established a
well-earned reputation for being naturally-aspirated, high-revving wonders.
Drivers around the world have revelled at the cars’ ability to find grip,
balance and fantastic exit speeds. Once you get the hang of it, there’s a
pretty simple way to do that: shift right at the top of the rev range on entry
while the engine lets out that delirious banshee shriek and mechanical intake
roar. Orgasmic stuff.
The
M4 really is a car for all occasions
No can do with the new M3, I’m afraid; you
have to unlearn 30 years of it all. To understand what’s changed you have to go
back to the tech sheet and that’s when the revelations begin. First off, the
whole 56.1 kgm of twist is now delivered from 1,850 rpm to 5,500 rpm — that
means anything above 6,000 rpm on a tight, technical track like Portimao is a
lesson in futility. And while the 424 bhp is available from 5,500 rpm to 7,300
rpm, torque levels collapse to 50 kgm at 6,000 rpm (at the 7,600 rpm redline,
you’re left with about 38 kgm). Now this makes me feel much better about my
driving abilities.
The
M3’s interior is driver-focused and as comfortable as you'd expect from an M
car
Why? Simply because this new M3 is a
radical digression from its predecessor. In the old M3 there was just 32 kgm of
torque at 1,850 rpm while the entire 41 kgm came into play at 3,500 rpm (and
stuck around till about 6,500 rpm). At 7,500 rpm, you got the same 38 kgm of torque
— like the new M3 — but the difference was that the motor revved all the way up
to an 8,400 rpm redline. And the 414 bhp of power was available at the redline,
not a range. Shifting at the redline in the new M3, therefore, is a completely
different ball game. That explained why the ESP cut throttle on the tight
right-hander, waiting for the car to settle, before offering the power back to
the — in this case, a bumbling one — driver.
