To our collective mind, the reigning king
of the German über-sedans is still the 2000–2003 BMW M5 (E39 chassis),
the M-car that everyone agrees is destined for the history books as the
end-all, be-all of luxury Q-ships. With its timeless good looks, lusty 394-hp
V-8, and tire-roasting antics, it’s the last M5 we would have sold our
firstborn to own.
Yeah, such a man thing to say. But guys, if
you don’t have a child to offer, hurry up and pull that goalie, because you’re
going to want this. The Gran Coupe’s badge says M6, but the next M3 coupe (page
63) is going to wear an M4 badge, so clearly numbers, schmumbers. What’s
important is that any proud but childless E39 M5 owner would, after a few
seconds behind the wheel of this car, lose all function in his forebrain and
call his doctors to sell a testi . . . kidney. The M6 Gran Coupe is simply the
most desirable and best M5 that BMW has ever made.
Gran
Coupe is the third M6 variant, following the coupe and convertible
It’s not that the vehicle currently wearing
an M5 badge is a bad car; au contraire. It’s just lacking something. Two
things, actually: rear-wheel traction and sex appeal.
The 6-series Gran Coupe shares many parts
with the current 5-series, but it’s a step back toward that unforgettable E39.
Its interior is exquisite from every angle. Touches like the two-tone leather
dashboard are stunning, but the curvature where the stitched dash meets the
center console is centerfold material. And then you notice the tone-on-tone,
French-stitched, black-leather-on-Alcantara racing stripe in the headliner.
Sploosh.
Interior
is also standard 6-series fare, providing driver-focused luxury
Even so, it’s the sensuality of the M6GC’s
driving experience, combined with its almost Italian-exotic appeal, that
elevates the car to elite status. The twin-turbo V-8 under the hood, borrowed
from the current M6 and M5, is transcendent. BMW says 560 hp. We say where, at
idle? It feels like it has a hundred more. As with other M-cars, there’s an
available six-speed manual; a good portion of the powertrain lag that irked us
in automatic-equipped M5s was gone on our three-pedal test car, though there’s
still a considerable waiting period for boost at low revs. Still, the presence
of a clutch pedal means you have more tools with which to work around the turbo
lag, and it’s a wonderful gearbox to use. Quick shifts under load are
punctuated with a quad-tailpipe explosion that sounds like a rifle shot.
Watching pedestrians duck for cover is half the fun.
The
BMW M6 Gran Coupe provides comfortable seating for four
The hydraulically assisted steering is a
chatterbox around town, assaulting your fists with continual evidence that
electric steering isn’t yet ready for its close-up. That’s fists, not
fingertips, because the steering’s weighting is switchable between three modes:
too heavy, far too heavy, and obscenely heavy. If you don’t like it, buy a
Prius.
Related note: If you want the seven-speed
dual-clutch automatic, we’ll apologize on behalf of your botched vasectomy and
recommend that you, too, buy a Prius. The automatic M6GC would no doubt smoke
its stick-shift sibling to 60 mph (the two-pedal M5 handily beats its manual
brother to 60, 3.6 seconds versus 4.1), but we couldn’t care less. Speed alone
isn’t the goal here, nor should it be. Four-wheel drive would make it quicker,
too. And a Boeing 747 would be faster still. But fun? No.
The
4.4-liter twin-turbocharged V8 under the hood of the BMW M6 Gran Coupe is good
for 560 hp
That’s the point—this is a great car, but
there’s something special about it, and in a lot of ways, it falls outside the
modern-BMW norm. BMW has become way too good at building 747s, and even better
at selling M-badged 747s to people who don’t appreciate what an M-car is
supposed to be. An M5 (or M6) should deliver more than peanuts, bloody marys,
and neck pillows. It should give you speed, luxury, and a big chunk of
involvement.
If you’re confused, go drive an E39 M5. Or
better yet, an M6 Gran Coupe with a manual gearbox. It’s the first M5 in two
generations that puts the masculinity back in M—it’s a little hairy, a little
unpredictable, and exactly what it should be.
