It didn't grab the headlines in its
day, but the original M5 set the template for a super saloon dynasty that's
lasted almost three decades.
There is a dark, slightly musty-smelling
room downstairs in the Evo offices. We call it the library. As you would
expect, there is a goodly selection of enticing volumes on subjects ranging
from Abarth to Zanardi and with intriguing titles like Tiff Gear. There
is also a selection of old camera equipment, some wellingtons, at least two
types, three parcel shelves of uncertain origin, a bucket and grey telephone
that is connected but never rings.
Icon
BMW M5 - New Gadgetry Built for Speed and Comfort
But the reason I usually end up whiling
away hours in this paper-lined cave of a room is not the books, but the back
catalogue of magazines. Issue upon issue of title, after title means you can
get lost amongst millions of words, photos and adverts from yesteryear. If
you're looking for original reviews of something a bit old then you can find
yourself becoming gradually immersed in an entirely different era, marveling at
skinny tire sizes and Nigel Mansell's moustache. You finally emerge hours
later, blinking into the daylight and feeling like you've just stepped out of a
time machine.
I went through this whole process a couple
of days ago, and after finding and digesting the contemporary reviews of the
BMW E28 M5, I was left slightly bemused. As well as a nagging need to rewind a
cassette with a pencil, I came away with the overwhelming impression that, back
in the mid-1980s, the M5 wasn't actually heralded as the cult hero I imagined
it had been. A lot of the things that I'm about to sing the praises of over these
next few pages were obviously praised at the time, but there wasn't quite the
eulogizing fanfare that I'd expected would greet the first model in what is now
a revered dynasty.
It only got two pages in Car, and
although Autocar managed four, a Daihatsu Domino got seven pages in the
same issue. Everyone liked and admired the M5, but just didn't see it as a
watershed in automotive history. The problem, it seems, was the price. Although
the first M5 had a faintly ludicrous 282bhp at a time when a Ferrari 328 could
only muster 270, the BMW also cost $46,942.5 at a time when the Ferrari could
be yours for $52,125...
This
M5 was first registered in April 1987 and for the first 5 years the car was
serviced at BMW main dealers
Then there was the hitch that you were
paying a lot of money for a car that looked no more threatening than a lightly
boiled 520i. Obviously, when I walk into 4 Star Classics' showroom and see this
Zinnobar Red M5, owned by Steve Wright, I instantly think that it looks
fantastically understated. That angular, undercut snout, the UK-spec 16in
cross-spoke alloys, the distinctive, boxy glasshouse - it's a simmering wolf in
sheep's clothing. Indeed, plenty of'80s road testers admired the ultimate Q-car
look too, but if you were a schoolboy in 1986, I imagine the show-off,
$29,977.5 M535i with its aero kit (a very rarely specced option on the M5) was
the more exciting-looking machine. In some ways it's not really surprising that
the M5 wasn't a cover star, but with the benefit of hindsight it seems crazy.
I've wanted to properly drive an E28 ever
since I had a brief go in one during our 'Greatest ever M-car' test in 2007 (evo
110). I can remember a wet roundabout, but that's about it. Just getting into
an E28 M5 today is a special experience for many reasons. As I'm a child of the
'80s, there's a lot about the interior that dredges up long-forgotten memories.
The shiny leather and brittle plastics, the old-fashioned spring to the seats
and the B-pillar seems very close when you reach for the seat belt. The
electric seat buttons next to the bristly handbrake gaiter are a work of art,
though.
Just like the outside, there are very few
indications they you're getting comfortable inside a car hand-built by BMW's
motorsport department. A flash of tricolor on the bottom spoken of the steering
wheel here, a dash of stripes set into the seats there, all topped off by an
'M' at the bottom of the rev counter where lesser models had an mpg gauge. The
basics architecture of the dash feels so very driver-focused, however, that it
might have been designed especially for an M-car, with the center console
angled lovingly towards the driver and positively shunning the passenger.
The
engine runs very smoothly and pulls well throughout the rev range, these
engines really come to life over 4,000rpm and produce an addictive howl
Turn the simple key in the column and the
started motor spins just long enough to make you wonder if it's going to catch
at all. A bit of theatre ought to be expected, though. You are starting a
supercar engine, after all. This 24-value, 3.5-litre 'M88' motor, originally
designed for the M1, is an absolute peach. Here it has a wet sump as well as
different pistons and conrods, while its Bosch Motronic fuel injection was
state-of-the-art at this time. Six butterfly throttles mean that every touch of
the floor-hinged accelerator pedal elicits an instant reaction, giving you a
fantastic feeling of connection to the motorsport powertrain. There was also a
catalyzed version of this engine, designed S38 and producing a slightly lowlier
256bhp, but you can tell at a glance which engine is under the bonnet: the
full-fat motor just has a BMW rounded and 'M Power' written on the value cover
while the S38 carries the legend 'BMW M Power'.
4 Star Classics is based down in Surrey,
almost on the doorstep of where I grew up, so this is a proper trip down memory
lane (albeit a rather rainy and foggy one). The shift of the five-speed Getrag
'box is phenomenally long and there's more than a little slack in the gate if
you give the mushroom-topped lever a waggle. Yet somehow it still feels
precise, with the stick being sucked into each ratio in a curiously
recognizable BMW fashion. It means you have to take time over each shift,
thinking a little further down the road and plotting your changes, but it's
sufficiently tactile to make it enjoyable rather than frustrating.
