The old dictum that racing improves the breed has always been part of the creed of all motorsports enthusiasts. It is sometimes difficult to shower how technology trickles down from the likes of an Indy or an IMSA GTP car; but when the racing hardware is similar to what is sold for the street, an immediate benefit for the consumer is more believable. But how much of a racing sedan actually finds its way to a street machine? Usually, previous little; there are virtually no market pressures to apply racing technology. At best, a bit of the image rubs off.

Enter the Federation Internationale de l’Automobile (FIA) and its rules for Group A racers. To qualify a car for Group A, a manufacturer must produce at least 5000 cars of that type in any given 12 month period. The cars must have a minimum of four seats. Minimum weight is related to engine displacement, but the cylinders may not be bored out more than 0.6mm to reach the displacement limit for that weight class; similarly for sleeving down engine too large for the desired weight class. Individual components may be modified, polished, lightened, machines, etched or heat treated, but not replaced by parts stemming from other sources. The original fuel injection system must be retained, but may be modified. The camshaft is free, as is its timing. Suspension pickup points must remain unchanged. Wheels and tires must be contained within the original bodywork; they aren’t allowed to stick out. Add-on aerodynamic aids beyond the car’s original roadgoing equipment are not allowed.

The result of all this is that cars not immediately associated with racing are used to good effect tin this predominantly European class. Victory Lane at the Nürburgring or Spa has in years past been occupied by the likes of Volvo and Rover; the 1985 Class 1 (over 2.5 litres) was won by Volvo, closely followed by Rover with MW a distant 3^rd. In Class 2 (1.6-2.5 litres) Alfa Romeo beat out BMW. In 1986 BMW won both Class 1 and 2, against competition from Mercedes-Benz (190E 2.3) and Rover Vitesse, what we used to call the 3500.

The manufacturers were beginning to get serious about touring cars, fielding teams both above and below board. For 1987 there would be several racing series for Group A cars, including the new World Touring Car Championship, coinciding with the European touring Car Championship except for four races in Australia, New Zealand, and Japan. Track wins meant more dealer sales. To achieve its own unfair advantage, BMW decided to enter Group A in a big way – by laying on a series of 5000 cars for the road designed solely to field similar cars on the track. A direct example of racing improving the breed or, more correctly, the right breeding making racing possible. The car is called the M3 and is based on the familiar 3-Series sports sedans. We compared this homologation special to its more civilized brother, the 325is, and the results are very interesting.

The M3 is a product of BMW Motorsport GmbH, but motorsport is not that group’s sole business. Other M products range from the Formula 1 engine and tuned street cars to designer clothes and “Motorsport” dead pedals in designer colors. The M3 is the first BMW since the M1 to be built for homologation.

The M3 at first glance looks like a typical café racer. But on this car, all the add-ons have a purpose. It’s all there because it needs to be there for racing. Remember, no spoiler on the road car means no spoiler on the racer, no add-on fender flares allowed. Not immediately noticeable is the greater rake to the backlight, achieved by moving its bottom edge back and fairing it all in with a plastic cap over the C-pillars and the rear edge of the roof. The trunk lid was raised by installing a plastic molding to replace the normal metal lid. Spoilers, skirts, fat tires and boxy fender flares capable of covering wheels up to 10in. wide (the largest allowed in its racing class) complete the zoomy kit. Despite, or perhaps better said,  because of all the add-ons, BMW claims a Cx of 0.33 versus 0.39 of the 325is.

Under the skin more modifications have been made. The front suspension, for example, has altered pickup points. The front hub carrier is different, giving the M3 more caster than the “civilian” versions for better high-speed stability and more steering feel. The power-assisted steering has been quickened. Lower control arms are aluminum instead of steel. The car has been lowered, and rising-rate springs have been installed at the rear. Spring, shock, anti-roll bar and rubber-bushing calibrations  have been changed. The brakes have been upgraded to those used on the 6 and 7-Series cars. A 25 percent limited-slip differential and ABS brakes are standard.

The shift lever of the US market car displays a conventional shift pattern, in contrast to the European model that has 1^st to the left and back. Gear ratios, too, are different. The US car is geared significantly lower in 1^st and 2^nd, for better acceleration. Ratios in the remaining gears are similar but not identical.

The engine bay is also heavily modified. The engine is surprisingly not the newer, lighter, aluminum M20 inline-6 used in other cars of the 3-Series, but rather the S14 inline-4, derived from the old M10 that also spawned the F1 powerplant. The M3 engine develops 192bhp at 6750rpm and 170lb-ft of torque at 4750rpm. In contrast to its 4-cylinder older brothers in the BW family, the M3′s engine has siamesed cylinder that also serve to stiffen the block. Why the step backward, to a four? The shorter, forged crankshaft of the four is stiffer, more resistant to torsional vibrations, and can be revved higher; the new six was designed for low weight and easy, cost-effective assembly and is therefore not as strong as the older design. Also no 4-valve head is readily available for the new six, while the old four had 4-valve heads as long ago as 1966.

Note that the new six is not to be confused with the bigger six used in the larger 5-, 6-, and 7-Series cars and the 4-valve M1 powerplant now used in the M635CSi and M5.

The M3 engine features two chain-driven cams and a cast-iron block, while the 325is has a single belt-driven cam. The M3 has far greater power potential than the new six and can rev higher in racing trim; BMW claims 10,000rpm is possible. The induction system uses a Bosch Motronic III and four throttle butterflies, one per cylinder, to reduce lag. A larger cast-aluminum oil pan, with windage tray and baffles, holds the greater quantity of oil required on the race track.

The interior of the car has the familiar, excellent BMW ergonomics. Subtle changes tell the driver that this is an extraordinary coupe; the speedo goes to 160mph, the tach to 8000 with a 7300rpm redline, and the fuel-economy gauge in the speedometer has been replaced by an oil-temperature gauge. Although the M3 is intended to provide a basis for a race car, it comes fully equipped with all manner of creature comforts, including sunroof, electric window lifts, central locking, sound system and air conditioning. About the only option is metallic paint. Automatic transmission is not available.

What shall we use as a yardstick? A good candidate is the BMW 325is, basically similar to the 325es tested in Road & Track, December 1986. The 325 family features the new 2.5 litre inline-6, which develops 168bhp at 5800rpm and 164lb-ft at 4300. Compare these figures to the M3; although power is less, torque is similar and is developed at lower revs. That’s significant, as we’ll soon see. In comparison to the M3, the gearing is taller all across the board, which should hurt the 325is in acceleration. The 325is has limited-slip differential, sport suspension with twin-tube shocks similar to the M3, sport seats, front air dam and small body-color rear lip spoiler and a number of detail changes compared with last year’s model.

Seat time. The first impression upon entering the M3 is how well everything is laid out for serious driving. The steering wheel fits the hands’ the gauges are where they should be. The grippy seats, among the best to be found anywhere, are adjustable for rake, reach, height and thigh support, thankfully without any electric motors. The ventilation system works well. Materials and workmanship in the interior are excellent.

On the road, the M3 exhibits a typical BMW trace of oversteer at the limit, useful when mastered. Cornering performance of the M3 is spirited, with little body lean. The car feels tossable. The pedals are easy to heel and toe, and the shifter has a somewhat notchy but accurate feel. Smooth, quick shifts are easily mastered. Steering is light but precise with nice feedback, allowing control of that oversteer. The suspension is not as hard as one might expect. The ABS brakes are, as always, simply wonderful, with a nice, hard pedal.

Now the down side. The car’s strongest asset, its engine, is also its largest liability. It is the logical choice for BMW’s motorsport activities, in view of its power potential; but under most driving conditions one is likely to encounter without need of a helmet, it is harsh, rough, buzzy, and boomy. There’s lots of valve-train noise thanks to the chain-driven overhead cams. There is a lack of power off the line, but BMW wisely chose high numberical ratios for the first two gears. The gearing is useful around town but long-legged if need be. The engine comes on the cam at 4500rpm or so.

By comparison, the 325is engine is quiet. Although not as noiseless as, say, the prime mover of the Acura Legend or the bigger BMWs, it is certainly one of the smoother engines around. A wee bit of valve-train noise can be heard, but it’s more of the well oiled machinery variety and not an annoyance to the enthusiast. One staffer summed it all up by asking, “Who needs the M3′s 4-cylinder peakiness with this car’s smooth, torquey, very tractable quick six?”

All of this is forgotten when the M3 is driven quickly on a mountain road. Preferably with the windows down. All of that booming and buzzing around town suddenly seems insignificant; in fact, it’s pleasant….and fun. This is what driving is all about. The engine, when revved hard, shoots the car from turn to turn; the four butterflies make it a happy responsive revver. The hard brake pedal and ABS allow braking deep into the turns, even in the face of guardrails and 500ft drops, far past the point where prudence would have one back off in lesser cars. The shifter and clutch are quick and precise. The steering is accurate; the driver is in control. Suddenly it all makes sense. This is as close as most owners will come to participatory motorsports and that is what this car was designed to do. Said one driver, “It seduces me despite my better judgment.”

And how does the 325is fare under such driving? Not at all badly. Although breeding will tell, and the 325 is not racebred, it does quiet well. It, too, is a joy to drive under such conditions; it, too, has the foolproof of barking and predictable handling. The difference is in degree; the brake pedal is a bit softer, the steering a mite less precise, the suspension a tad softer. Where the 325is shines is in all-around utility. The engine develops more torque at lower rpm than the M3, allowing spirited performance around town and away from stops, in spite of its gear-ratio handicap.

In other forms of performance driving, the M3 runs up to 60mph in 7.1 seconds and the quarter mile in 15.4 sec, 91.0mph. By comparison, the 325is does the same in 7.5secs and 15.7sec/88.5mph. On the skidpad, the M3 circulates at 0.82g, compared with the 325is’ 0.79; the cars run through the slalom at a commendable 64.7 and 64.6mph, respectively.

Which one to buy? The M3 is the choice for those who crave a car whose racing image is more than skin deep. This is a race car, make no mistake; every significant part on it is there to justify its presence on the racers. When pushed to its limits, it performs like a race car – fast and noisy.

For customers who don’t absolutely need the motorsport image, who may feel a bit self-conscious about the M3′s plastic body bits and spoilers, the more conservative 325 is a more logical choice. It’s far more civilized, and offers very nearly the same performance at a significantly lower cost.

Finally, after all this investment, did the M3 bring home the laurels for BMW? Two yeses, one no. The M3s won the German Touring Car Championship and the European Touring Car Championship quite handily. In the World Touring Car Championship, things were not quite so easy. The series was hotly contested by the BMW M3s and the Ford Sierra Cosworths, with the nod finally going to Ford in the final race of the season, at Mount Fuji. The series promises to be even more exciting next year. Without a doubt, BMW, will not take this lying down, no doubt developing even more tweaks over the winter, to improve its breed both on road and track.

BMW relies heavily on motorsport to sell its sporting road cars. The Munich company is in competition come hell of high water, and touring car racing is its motor sporting priority.

A couple of years ago the BMW motor racing think-thank sat down to conjure up a supercar to take over from the 625CSi, then nearing the end of its competitive career.

The new weapon, it was decreed, should be non-turbo, reflecting the mainstream of BMW road-going products. The engineers looked at the rules and then at their options.

The road version of the M3 is a 200 horsepower fireball based broadly on the popular 3-Series. To drive one is the realise that the Germans have done more than anyone to bridge the performance gap between a street car and its track counterpart.

It incorporated bodywork which reduced lift on the front and rear axles while providing commendable streamlining. The coachwork conveniently offered ample room for the widest wheels and tyres. The suspension was sensibly designed to take full advantage of the touring car regulations.

The M3′s engine is basically four-sixths of the legendary M1 sportscar power unit. It’s a high-revving four of 2.3 litres capacity, with four valves per cylinder, twin cams, injection, and with a computerised engine management system controlling the variables. The BMW M3 is a spectacular road car. And it makes a predictably effortless transition to the circuit.

Frank Gardner’s JPS Team BMW M3s (five have been built; three remain with the team and the others have been sold to New Zealanders) have been developed independently of the West German works-associated Schnitzer and Linder equipes. Visits to Bathurst by Schnitzer cars in ’85 and ’86, and their performances against the black-and-gold cars, suggest the local machines lose nothing by comparison.

Gardner knows what he wants in a race car. Jim Richards’ championship winning M3 is immaculately presented, but more important, the cockpit is designed to offer the driver every assistance. Gardner is stickler for ergonomic perfection. Everything – seating, gauges, gearshift, pedals, footrest, switches – must be in a perfect relationship with the driver. Gardner follows the quite reasonable doctrine of keeping the centre of gravity as low as possible.

Therefore the bucket seat in Jim Richards’ l.h.d. M3 is set down low, but not so low that the driver must strain to see over the scuttle. It’s a splendid seat, too, supporting the lumbar area and firmly gripping hips and shoulders. The idea is that the driver stays put; the car slides. Keeping the man firmly located is a big rest for the left boot, and an impressive-looking $3000 five-point harness. This is my second sampling of an M3. I could detect minor differences; four months is quite a spell in the early development phase of a new race car like the M3.

The M3 is now on super fuel, and Gardner acknowledges a loss of eight to nine bhp. Richards says he hasn’t noticed any difference and lap times have not been hurt because of the drop in power has been offset by gains in other areas.

The M3 is now showing less of a tendency to hang the bum at fast corners like Mazda House. It is a brilliant handling motor car; turns in with just a hint of understeer, like the good book says. Then it hangs on, before making an easy switch to a barely discernable oversteer. It’s nimble, predictable, fun and well balanced. The steering is constant and doesn’t become heavy with the power off, like some.

It is indecent the way an atmospheric 2.3 litre cylinder engine gets 960 kils up and mobile like this one does. Mid-year goodies have helped hike the M3′s output to 310bhp, giving it a respectable weight-to-power ratio.

Flooring the throttle doesn’t bring kick-in-the-tail acceleration. It’s not a turbo and it’s not a V8.

If the little Bee Em has a weakness, it must be its modest low-down torque. The M3 does not blast out of slow corners. The engine’s flexibility does surprise, however. Given the twin cam’s engine spec, a narrow power band was expected. Not so. It’s not lacking performance low down in the rev range, hauling with enthusiasm from 5000rpm right through to the recommended maximum of 8500. It’ll go further – to 9000 – but Gardner says it goes off the boil after eight and a half.

All the JPS cars are left-hand drive, so the gearshift to the Getrag box is to the driver’s right hand. Unlike Perkins’ gearbox, the M3′s is spring-loaded to fall in the second-third plane.

Given that the M3 was designed and developed with motor racing in mind, it is interesting that it manages to retain many road car characteristics.

That’s rare. Many competition cars refuse to idle (like Perkins’ Holden) and object to running below 3500revs. Depressing their clutch pedals is a Herculean task. Their gearshifts feel like they are welded in place, and their steering is invariably heavy because of the broad tyreprints.

In contrast the M3 Group A car feels like a noisy, faster version of the M3 street machine. The engine fires at first go and idles without coaxing, and the gearchange is easy and positive.

But the brakes feel different. They require more pressure than in a well-boosted road version. Richards believes he has had a noticeable edge this season in braking, but M3s seem to go just a little deeper into corners. Being lightest of the leading contenders helps.

The M3 is a car that leaves the driver with a smile on his fact. It is civilised. Small wonder it’s invading the world’s race tracks at an alarming rate.

Let’s put an end to the BMW-yuppie link. These days, all you have to do is whisper “BMW,” and everyone immediately thinks “yuppie.” Enough of the yups! That overpublicized group of consumers, who lust after Bimmers as they do any object perceived to confer status on its owners, could never fully appreciate the car you see on these pages. We don’t mean to say that the young urban professionals won’t love the new M3. After all, it’s got that famous badge on the hood. And you know, it’s the prestigious Eurosedan and everything. But will they realize that the M3 is the latest well-muscled, painstakingly crafted creation from BMW’s esteemed Motorsport department? “Nah, but it’ll sure look great in front of the condo.”

The M3 deserves better. This is not a car for yuppies. This is a car for us. In case you haven’t noticed, BMW’s US lineup has blossomed to include a dazzling array of leather-lined hot rods that beg to be flogged through the twisties and hammered on the superslabs. Gone are the anemic four-cylinder models that nearly ruined BMW’s image. Nearly extinct are the Bimmers reserved for social climbers.

The M3 is the most recent of the broad-shouldered BMW Motorsport models to reach our shores. For those not yet fluent in M-speak, the M-machines are limited-edition, high-performance versions of the 3-, 5-, and 6-Series sedans. For several years the M-cars were a treat reserved for European buyers, but since early this year they have been trickling into the hands of hungry American enthusiasts. The M5 and the M6 debuted stateside in February, and the M3 joined the brawny pair in June.

The M3 is available to enthusiasts because of the rules that govern FIA Group A racing. To qualify a car for Group A competition, its manufacturer must build a minimum of 5000 examples of it within twelve months. The rules also strictly limit the modifications that can be made for racing, so most of the performance hardware must be baked into the roadgoing cars. BMW Motorsport clearly knows the recipe for success in Group A road racing: after the fourth of seven European Touring Car Championship events this year, the M3 had already clinched the title.

The M3′s racing heritage is immediately apparent in its steroid-injected bodywork. With its aggressive assortment of air dams, body flares, and spoilers, the M3 will quicken the pulse of any boy (or girl) racer lucky enough to catch a glimpse of one. Most of the new pieces are made of steel, though the rocker panels, the trunk lid, the front air dam, and the rear wing are molded in plastic. The rake of the rear window has been altered for improved aerodynamics, and both it and the windshield are bonded flush with the surrounding bodywork. The net result of all these aero tweaks is a drag coefficient of 0.33, down substantially from the 325i’s 0.37Cd. Perhaps more important, no one will ever mistake the burly M3 for an ordinary 3-Series sedan.

The subskin make-over is equally impressive. Like its 3-Series siblings, the M3′s fully independent suspension has struts in front and semi-trailing arms at the rear, but the coil springs and the gas shocks have been revised and strengthened for race duty. The shorter springs drop the M3 about an inch lower than the 325i. In addition, the front anti-roll bar is attached to the struts rather than to the control arms, and a beefier anti-roll bar is fitted to the rear.

Formula 1 fans will think they’ve died and gone to Monaco the first time they lift the M3′s hood. Inside sits a normally aspirated, 2.3litre version of BMW’s brutal, turbocharged four-cylinder Grand Prix engine. This is the only remaining four banger in BMW’s US lineup, but it’s anything but a prestige-sapping weakling. Hardware enthusiasts have plenty to drool over here: four valves per cylinder, double overhead camshafts, an individual throttle for each cylinder, tuned intake and exhaust plumbing, and a new ML3 Bosch Motronic engine-management system. As further proof that this is no ordinary powerplant, its cam cover and air cleaner are emblazoned with the words “BMW M Power.”

Though the “M” stands for “Motorsport,” we think “Mucho Power” is more like it. The sixteen-valve four-cylinder turns out 192hp at a lofty 6750rpm and 170 pound-feet of torque at 4750. If you think those are remarkable figures for a 2.3litre, you’re right: the M3′s ferocious four boasts a higher output per litre than any other normally aspirated piston engine available in America.

What looks impressive on paper feels equally stirring on the road. When its tail is twisted, the 2857 pound M3 dashes to 60mph in 6.9 seconds and trips the quarter-mile lights in 15.2 seconds at 92mph. Top speed is an autobahn-tuned 141mph. That’s enough punch to blow off the Mercedes-Benz 190E 2.3-16 and stay neck and neck with the Porsche 944S. Best of all, the M3′s power delivery is wonderfully linear; it pulls willingly from its midrange all the way to its sizzling 7250rpm redline.

Those accustomed to the silky smoothness of BMW’s refined in-line sixes, however, may wince a bit when this engine starts to sing. It is, after all, a highly tuned, relatively large four-cylinder, so a little harshness is part of the bargain. BMW has softened the resonance considerably since we sampled an M3 on the autobahn a year ago, but this engine remains a howler. The noise is a fine, mechanical sound, especially when you’re near the very top of the tach, but it’s there whether you want it or not.

Most of the time, you won’t mind a little kibitzing from the engine compartment, because the M3 is designed for driving with brio. Pushed hard, the M3 comes into its own. The five-speed transmission is tightly geared for maximum go. The chassis is more than a match for the engine, responding swiftly and surely to orders from the helm. Powering through hard corners, the tail stays firmly planted, though there is enough predictable lift-throttle oversteer available to point you back toward your line when understeer begins to be a problem. The standard 205/55VR-15 Pirelli P600 tires don’t turn in as crisply as we’d like, but they do stick: the M3 squeals around the skidpad at an impressive 0.81g.

We had a chance to put in a handful of brisk laps around Connecticut’s challenging Lime Rock racetrack, and the M3 proved equal to its breeding. Few road cars can take to the track with such poise. The M3 leaps through the corners like a cat, it’s feisty engine spinning and spitting until you snatch another gear or the rev-limiter grabs it by the tail. Excellent controls help you keep the frenzy in check: the steering is supple and superbly accurate, the shifter has just the right amount of notchiness, and the massive disc brakes – vented in front and equipped with a standard anti-lock system – are always on duty, lap after lap. Our seat-of-the-pants admiration for the binders was confirmed by our fifth-wheel testing; the M3 clawed to a stop from 70mph in a mere 179 feet.

The M3 may be a thinly disguised race car, but its creature-comforts list would do most luxury sedans proud. Included are power windows, mirrors, and locks; a power sunroof; air conditioning; a premium AM/FM-stereo/cassette system; a three-spoke, leather-wrapped Motorsport steering wheel; and a nine-function trip computer. Everything is laid out in typically sensible BMW fashion, and the white-on-black analog gauges are among the most legible in the industry. In view of the M3′s sporting nature, an oil-temperature gauge has been substituted for the normal 3-Series layout’s fuel-economy display.

We have mixed feelings about the standard leather seats, however. They offer an adequate range of manual adjustment, and they’re dandy for spirited maneuvers. The problem is that they aren’t well designed for extended travel. Several staffers complained of a lack of lumbar support, and others suffered from pinched behinds after long drives. We’ll give these thrones an overall B. Passengers banished to the rear seats should be either short or masochistic.

All in all, we’re smitten by the M3. Our test car was weighed down by a $34,810 price tag – about what you’d pay for a 944S – but the Bavarian beast offers a lot in return. For that princely sum you get a stunningly distinctive design, a generous helping of luxury and quality, and the kind of cool, collected performance available only in German sports sedans.

Enthusiasts who find those attributes tantalizing should get in line immediately; BMW plans to export only 2400 M3s to the United States this year. The supply probably won’t be enough to meet the demand, but it will serve to remind enthusiasts that BMW is back in the performance car business.

Gee, what was that “y” word again?

It wasn’t that long ago that BMW was suffering from a severe case of the blahs. Through the Bavarian auto maker continued to make impressive inroads on the American market, aficionados of the marquee slipped into reactions of indifference, a response that was due primarily to the firm’s lackluster powerplants combined with continued price hikes.

And then there was the distaste created when – despite the uninvolving level of performance delivered by the automobiles – the dreaded Kingdom of Yuppiedom embraced the blue-and-white propeller as the symbol of youthful status.

Those rather commonplace Bimmers from the late ‘70s and early ‘80s short-circuited acceptance by true BMW lovers, leading that group to wax nostalgic over such past gems as the 2002tii. Happily, though, adherents of automotive excitement can once again look to Munich for pulse-quickening sustenance.

BMW’s renewed vigor is led by a group of genuine sports machines, the M-Squad, which emanates from the same high-tech halls responsible for developing purpose-built race cars. So far, the M-series is comprised of three cars: the M6, M5 and M3.

Based on BMW’s 3-series coupe, the M3 exists because of a now-extinct race series, FIA’s 1987 Group A World Touring Car Championship. Homologation rules called for 5000units to be produced within a year, which has afforded a select group the opportunity to own a street car that was truly developed for the track. That old saw, “Racing improves the breed,” is nowhere more justified than on the M3.

The car’s competition genes are reflected in the aggressive bodywork. The wide fenders, front spoiler and rear wing, redesigned angel of the rear window, and side rockers provide more than just surface excitement. Aerodynamics is a key to racing success, and that science can also be utilized to refine passenger cars. The additions bring the coupe’s Cd down to a slippery 0.33, which translates to impressively quiet thrusts through the atmosphere and a solid grip on terra firma.

And grip is certainly the term needed to describe the M3′s handling characteristics. The basic suspension setup remains the familiar front strut/rear trailing arm arrangement, but he M3 has been lowered via shorter springs. It also features revised values for the shocks and springs, a large rear anti-roll bar and new attachment points for the front bar. Tires are 205/55VR-15 Pirelli P600 radials on 7JX15inch cross-spoke alloys, while superior braking discs, ventilated in front. As with all BMWs in the US, the M3 has standard ABS.

Especially un-standard, though, is the heart of this beauty, a 2.3 litre, 192 hp four cylinder powerplant. Using the virtually identical block as BMW’s Formula One engine and the same cylinder head design as the legendary M1, it also features twin chain-driven overhead cams, four valves per cylinder, free-flow exhaust manifold and twin exhaust tubes. Advanced engine management, called Motronic, measure such functions as air density, ambient temperature and engine temperature to keep it on the cutting edge of performance. As with most multi-valve engines, peak horsepower is found high up in the rev range – while the maximum torque of 170ft lbs is reached at a more accessible 4750rpm. Redline is reached at a lofty 7000rpm.

Acceleration is understandably swift, with 0 to 60mph accomplished in the area of 7 seconds, and the quarter-mile in roughly 15seconds at 90 plus mph. The M3 tops out around 140mph, and it’s all done with a raspy smoothness unknown to most four-cylinder engines. Power flows through a wonderful five speed sports gearbox that features close ratios ideally suited to the power curve. Gear selection is managed by a well-located quick-throw shift lever.

For all its high-performance aspirations, though, the M3 can be driven in the urban grind without a care. True, max power is usually out of reach during commuting, but find a stretch of open road and prepare for world-class fun.

As is the case with all quality automobiles from Germany, the cost of ownership is breathtakingly high – $34,000 at last count. The only option is metallic paint, and the list of standard equipment is right in line with the sumptuous level of comfort and convenience identified with current BMWs.

If it sounds as though we lust after such a car, be assured that we do. Few other cars can deliver the M3′s combination of sporty appearance, superb handling, smooth ride and responsive powerplant.

However, we also think of the M3 as a target vehicle for our Jetta GLI project. By the time we’re through modifying the Volkswagen, we think we can approach very closely the panache and motoring behaviour of the M3. Stay with us for the story of our success – or failure.

Subtlety was out. After several false starts, there was clearly only one way to get BMW M3 Evolution number 475 off the line and down Millbrook’s mile straight at its scintillating best.

And that was sheer brute force. Whip the screaming four-cylinder up to within a few hundred revs of its 7000rpm red line, then simply dump the clutch. Howling their hearts out, the massive Pirelli P700s struggled for grip on the tarmac, the car’s rear end drifting almost in slow motion from side to side as it wrestled with that suddenly applied 220bhp. As grip slowly overcame slip, the engine dipped from 7000rpm to 5000rpm, then held momentarily before soaring again as the BMW speared down the track.

The awkward dog-leg shift out of first was forced through even before the wheels had stopped spinning. The revs dipped but the engine was slap bang on its torque peak and the M3′s charge undiminished. Through 60mph in just 6.7 seconds, then a straight pull back on the stick to third and peak torque once more.

Another of those awkward dog-leg shifts slammed through with no time to worry about the vagaries of the Getrag gearbox’s sloppy gate – but a quiet sigh of relief, nonetheless, that it had risen to the occasion well enough – and we were on to 100mph in a decimal over 18 seconds; the punch of acceleration still following forcibly through.

Brake hard and true as the end of the straight looms up, then swing round for the run back and another full-revs, clutch-dumping start. But don’t get the wrong impressions. The brutality of our test track treatment was not ignorant but calculated. And a tribute to the remarkable abilities of BMW’s little racer.

As any tester will tell you, the technique for standing starts in a powerful, rear-drive car is usually the simplest of all to master. Half revs, drop the clutch and you’ll have all the wheelspin you need for a fast getaway – too much quite often.

Not in the M3. At half revs, the big Pirellis stay glued like barnacles to the track surface. Try a thousand higher. Little better, the grip breaks, wheel spin for a year or two, then the revs fade as the tyres claw their footholds back. Try again – peak torque revs; that usually does it. But no, the wheels spin for a few yards more, grip again and the engine fades.

And so it has to be sheer force; peak power revs, and at last we get it away with the right balance of spin an traction to keep the engine boiling until momentum has picked up.

The M3 story we’ve discovered in this single exercise is as much about grip as it is about power. The Evolution version may have an extra 200bhp at its disposal, but it’s the prodigious grip that allows it to use the power with impunity. It is this grip, in the end, that impresses even more than the car’s performance.

‘Evolution’ is one of those motor sport terms little understood by anyone who is not both a member of Mensa and enjoys the FIA rule book as bedtime reading.

In layman’s language, having produced 5000 examples of a saloon car in order for it to be homologated as a Group A competition car, a manufacturer can then ‘evolve’ 500 improved versions from that original – stretching whatever the strictly defined guidelines for so doing might be as far as possible of course.

Needless to say, this process also creates an instant, limited edition collector’s piece – identified in the case of the M3 Evolution by a numbered plate riveted to the centre console.

The Sierra Cosworth, you will recall, evolved into the RS500 Cosworth via a series of nifty changes that opened up an Aladdin’s Cave of rich possibilities for the race-track. A massive new turbocharger and a second rail of fuel injectors (not even connected up on the road cars) were all ready to activate a whalloping power improvement by a simple engine management chip change, while a set of additional rear suspension pick-up points (again unused on the road version) allowed track tuners ample opportunity to re-work the semi-trailing rear end into something more sophisticated. And finally, revised spoilers reduced drag and increased rear end down-force.

It was, in truth, not so much evolution as revolution. By comparison, the M3 has been through a very modest development step. The engine is substantially altered, true enough; it has new pistons, increasing compression ratio from 10.5 to 11.0:1, a lighter flywheel, revised camshafts, a new air intake system and a re-chipped Motronic management unit. But such changes are much less significant in competition terms than Ford’s evolution changes for the Cosworth.

A naturally aspirated engine could not have its output radically increased as easily a Ford’s turbo-unit could, and the 300bhp-odd of the Group A M3 engine is only likely to rise by 20-30bhp as a result of these mods.

The road-tune engine gains just 20bhp, too, it 220bhp being developed at the same 6750rpm as the original. Torque, likewise, changes only a little from 177 to 181lb ft maximum at the same 4750rpm. To take advantage of the added power, the Evolution’s final drive has also been stretched slightly’ from 3.25 to 3.15:1.

The engine itself is, of course, the durable iron-blocked four-cylinder which has been at the core of so much of BMW’s competition work since it first saw lift in the BMW 1500 back in the 1960s.

In M3 guise it became a short-stroke high revving 2302cc unit, featuring a version of the twin-cam, four-valve-per-cylinder head used in the bigger, six-cylinder M-cars. Its Evolution development is identifiable at once from the vividly finished white cam cover and air collector, which sport the blue, mauve and red stripes of BMW Motorsport.

But, from a racing viewpoint, the significant alterations are those which the uninformed observer might well not spot. A delicate boot lip aerofoil beneath the existing spoiler improves downforce by between 10 and 15 percent, and 22lb of weight have also been pared from the rear of the car by substitution of a lighter boot lid, wing and bumper supports, as well as the use of thinner glass in the rear screen and rear side windows. Wheels and tyres are also larger than the original M3′s: 225/45ZR16 Pirellis on 7 ½ J alloy wheels, though these were already available as an option in place of the standard 205/55s and 7-inch rims.

In truth, the extra power is not really discernible on the road; it takes track testing to spot the differences – for they are small, being partially hidden by that slight rise in overall gearing, which is in slight rise in overall gearing, which is in turn offset by the lower profile tyres.

Confused? Well, in comparison with the standard car (if a machine like the M3 could ever be termed ‘standar’), the Evolution proved 0.2 seconds quicker to 60mph, a difference that had widened to just over two seconds by 100mph (18.1 against 20.5).

Top speeds are even harder to compare for we tested the original car abroad on the autobahn, where it reached 145.9mph. Around Millbrook’s oval, the Evolution averaged 144.8mph and was clearly losing some speed through tyre scrub. How much? That’s hard to say, but the original M3 has been ‘maxed’ round Millbrook by others at between 136 and 139mph, so BMW’s 152mph claim for the Evolution looks fair enough.

But so what if the Evolution is only marginally quicker, the M3 in either guise is a magnificent performer. The four-cylinder engine is a real race-bred screamer, though with enough docility to make it a perfectly mannered road unit, too.

It will pull smoothly from below 2000rpm, though it only starts to feel at all meaningful once it is nearing 4000. From here on – it flies! The real red meat of performance, though, is reserved for the final 2500rpm from just below 5000 to the rev limiter which cuts off an engine that is still in full flight at 7300rpm.

The rather boomy exhaust note of the short-stroke four turns into a throaty howl and that acceleration which had started to impress a thousand revs earlier just keeps striving on.

Such an eager, high-revving power unit makes road driving not only thrilling but remarkably fuss free, too. The M3 has power and torque reserves sufficient to make gearchanging less than a priority. On a country secondary, it will punch out if corners and swallow up the short straights between in third, while on quicker roads, fourth will carry it comfortably through fast sweepers and simply devour those longer straights.

But as we said at the beginning, given the chance, the Getrag box’s close, tight ratios can maintain the M3 at maximum momentum – when you’ll discover it’s a stunningly quick machine indeed. To well beyond 100mph acceleration just doesn’t falter and only as it nears maximum speed does the M3 begin to show off.

The response, too, is instantaneous. Shift up, bang the throttle hard down gain and the engine’s bite is immediate quite the opposite of a turbo’s slightly reluctant pick-up.

The gearbox isn’t the easiest to use – especially as one is shifting with the right or rather the wrong – hand. First is out in a dog-leg while a strongly spring-loaded gate separates second/third from fourth/fifth.

It’s one of those shifts that is all too easy to fumble over when driving casually – forget the spring loading and you often wrong-slot. But, driven in anger, everything comes good. And that, of course, is what counts. All this would be to no avail, though, without the M3′s terrific traction. You can slam the throttle down hard and early on the exit of a corner and those big Pirellis will just bite in and grip. There’s no trace of wheelspin or ___ twitching, just the instant launch of a Lynford Christie craving his starting blocks.

It’s a combination of traction and response that makes for sparkling motoring. You can drive the M3 Evolution like the racer it is: brake hard, turn in, lower on, blast out.

It appears just to flow through bends – the hallmark of greatness. There’s little body roll, good feel through the assisted steering and the chassis balance is impeccable. It will understeer turning in – quite noticeably if you turn in too late and too hard – but once the power is back on it simply squirts through the corner with impunity.

And the M3 is so easy to drive, too. Grippy leather-edged sports seats hold you tightly in place and the left-hand driving position is almost inch perfect. ____ one that inspires instant confidence; ____ pedals are properly spaced for heel-to-toe shifts and there’s a massive footrace down alongside the clutch. All-round visibility is good, too.

If there’s a fault to be found when driving the M3 (and fault finding hardly seems fair in a car that behaves so beautifully) then it’s that the steering struggles to keep up with the chassis’s ability. At 3.6 ___ between locks it is much higher geared than the standard 325′s awful 4.5 turns, but it is still not really quick enough. Flicking the car through a complex of tight bends demands rather too much work at the wheel and you miss the Cosworth’s steering quickness.

Brakes are more than up to the job, however. The car stops hard and true; there’s no weaving, and not a hint of fade. And on a dry surface, you’d have to be literally screeching to a halt before the characteristic pedal thump-back of ABS made itself known.

The inevitable consequence of such crisp, racer-like road manners is that the M3′s ride is hard – too hard for some, no doubt – but despite the stiffness and its associated wheel thump, even on rough country roads it remains stable and tidy, with little or no bump steer.

Our car, in fact, came with three-setting, drive-adjustable dampers – an electronic system developed by BMW in associated with Boge. The three settings (altered by a turn-wheel at the base of the gearstick) roughly correspond to Sporting, Normal M3 settings and Comfort – with the last automatically up-grading itself to Normal at higher speeds.

The differences between the settings are not as great as might be expected. In fact at first you’re barely aware of them. The M3′s springing is stiff, and the wide, low tyres noisy even on the softest setting. But try each setting for longer and differences do emerge in the way the car copes with various types of road imperfection. In Comfort, for instance, the car is less jolty at low speed, but go faster over and undulating road and you notice a slight floatiness that isn’t in tune with the hard demands made by fast motoring.

The Sport setting is harsher than the standard as well, and it can become quite unpleasantly jarring over had surfaces. Does it improve the overall handling balance? That’s hard to say; it would need a lengthy back to back test over a variety of roads to come to a firm conclusion. So perhaps at a costly £1388, it’s an option that doesn’t conclusively prove its worth. Not that the car is short of possible options; ours had another £2000 worth: electric sunroof (£692), headlamp cleaning (£288), computer (£337), electric front windows (£383) and heating control (£149), and anti-theft locks (£369).

As you can see, the M3 Evolution’s hefty £26,960 price tag pays for that purebred, competition pedigree and not for a great deal in the way of added luxury.

Naturally, you do still get superb build quality with the M3 Evolution – homologation special it might be, but this is still a BMW – but for the exclusive club of 40 British buyers who’ll take one home this year, the most important part of the car will probably be that aluminum plate with its limited edition serial number.

It’s a collector’s piece from the start, but certainly not one that should be tucked away for safe keeping. For this is the sports saloon brought to perfection: for sheer driving pleasure, you won’t beat it.

How much evolution can one model stand? In the case of BMW’s M3 the answer seems to be: as much as is necessary to keep beating the Mercedes-Benz 190s in German touring car races and other competitive events.

The latest version of the M3, the Sport Evolution has a bored-out engine, larger wheels and tyres, higher overall hearing, and some minor bodywork and internal changes. It costs £34,500. This is £6,300 over the price of an ‘ordinary’ M3 (which is itself pretty expensive for a left-hand-drive car with a four-cylinder engine). Part of the justification for this is that you are paying for a limited-edition model: only 500 of these Evolution models will be made and the UK allocation is exactly 10% of the total.

An increase in capacity from 2,302 to 2,467cc – achieved by increasing both bore and stroke – has lifted the power peak from 215bhp at 6,750rpm to 238 at 7,000, while torque has risen from 179lbs/ft at 4,600rpm to 177lbs/ft at 4,750rpm. Other engine changes have been in detail only: a lower (10.2:1) compression ratio, and reprogrammed injection and ignition (a Bosch DME system).

The lap of Millbrook we recorded at an average of 147.6mph suggests that BMW’s claim of 154 is achievable on the straight and level, while 0-60mph in 6.2sec is about a tenth of a second off the suggested 0-100kph time of 6.5sec. This is substantially better than the standard M3, which is quick for a normally aspirated car of its engine capacity: 138.3mph and 0-60mph in 7.0sec, by 100mph the Evolution’s advantage has grown to 1.4sec.

Performance in fourth and top gears has lost its edge more than we’d have expected: it’s partly due to the higher overall gearing (22.2mph/1,000rpm instead of 21.3), which simply means that to make rapid program you have to stir the lever around a bit more: but this is after all a racy sort of car, so that must be half of the object of buying it, and anyway the change quality is excellent.

You can sense the extra power from behind the wheel, though the difference is not huge. The quality of the engine has also changed little. It has an appealingly violent quality to it, rather thrashy in the noise it makes up the top end, but remarkably smooth all the way from tick over to the 7,300rpm red line. Even so, you can’t help regretting that the ‘small six’ – one of the most pleasant road car engines currently available – apparently cannot be persuaded to accept anything like M3 horsepower without hurling its crankshaft though the casing.

Few road cars handle as well as the M3: in particular, we can think of nothing which beats the purity of response of its assisted rack and pinion steering. The springing and damping are near perfect, and the car’s behavior is near to impeccable in the dry: a touch of power oversteer available in tight bends, but mild, stable understeer in other circumstances. In fact, it’s almost neutral, and the combination of braking ability, grip and traction often gives the potential to out perform considerably more powerful cars in real world conditions.

The only warning note we would sound in relation to the M3 Evolution is the the 225/45 ZR 16 Michelins – excellent though they are on dry surfaces – are less satisfactory when it rains. We’ve tried them before, as optional fittings on a standard M3 (normal wear is 205/55 ZR 15s) and found them to be excessively prone to aquaplaning; the rain also highlights the relatively short wheelbase of the 3-series, especially in faster curves.

In the press blurb, BMW rabbits on about how the new adjustable spoilers provide a “further improvement in roadholding and driving safety”. But of course, not many drivers will take the time out to stop, unpack a screwdriver, and alter the angles of incidence of the front and rear aerofoils when they switch from motor way to country road. The boot wing is rather exaggerated, though it seems quite tame compared with the excresense on Mercedes-Benz’s 190 Evolution.

The covers of the steering wheel and gear lever knob have been turned inside out: while suede is the ideal material if you happen to be wearing racing gloves, it’s not so good for base hands, and the outer source of the cow would be preferable inside the road car.

When you buy a 3-series BMW is it possible to specify extended seat runners to give drivers of above average height enough legroom – it’s about time BMW fitted the extended ones to all 3-series models. No one is fooled by the illusion it gives of almost adequate rear legroom. It’s a pity, because otherwise the front seats would be very comfortable, and the driving position perfect: the new seats (complete with slots for a full racing harness) are very comfortable and supportive.

Now that BMW has proved it can sell left-hand-drive Z1′s to British buyers for nearly £37,000, any comments about value for money (in reference to almost anything) seems redundant, but it seems to us that, apart from the hotter engine, the changes to the M3 in this version are more for the benefit of the BMW’s racing team rather than the buyer. However, the standard M3 is such a great car that the extra performance of this Evolution model – welcome though it is – hardly seems worth a 22% price hike.

Think of BMW and it is fairly natural to think of motorsport, but things have been a little fraught in Munich of late. BMW Motorsport GmbH is currently leaderless, following Wolfgang Peter Flohr’s resignation in late summer and although BMW still have an eye on the motorsport scene, the main company board seems set to await the sporting plans of Mercedes before committing themselves further.

Certainly, it seems, BMW have already turned their faces against rejoining the Grand Prix circus (their 1.5 litre/640bhp turbo helped Piquet’s Brabham to the world title in 1983), and that was largely responsible for Flohr’s resignation, and for some time now the main sporting interests have been production car based.

It seems that Munich’s decision makers see maintenance of upmarket status for the new 5- and 7-Series, where commercial success is assured, as of far higher priority than sporting achievement.

But although they are currently so non-committal about their own competition plans, BMW nonetheless continue to support the activities of diverse outside specialists – largely nowadays in pursuit of racing and rallying glory for their M3.

Schnitzer, for instance, based in Freilassing on the Austro-German border, won the first (and apparently last) World Touring Car Championship title last season, with M3 driver Roberto Ravaglia, yet they lost the Makes title to those wicked black Ford Sierra RS500s.

This year, Schnitzer (and many other, private concerns, including Alpina in the German championship) continue to chase wins for the M3.

But lacking sanction, so far, from the BWM board for the necessary 5000 run of a turbocharged car with which to fight Ford on more equal terms, outright racing success has been hard to obtain in Europe.

We are told that BMW Motorsport have developed a turbo M3 ‘Cosworth crusher’, but it is not scheduled to appear before the new sheet metal of the 3-Series itself, early in the 1990s. That time gap to the turbo M3 leaves the new Evolution M3 (with 10 percent of the original 5000 homologation figure uprated, or only 500 models produced) as the standard bearer for BMW Motorsport and their allies in racing. And even that car doesn’t fit into any plans for rallying, where Evolution models are banned.

Yet every cloud has its silver lining, and for the 18 month old Prodrive organization, based in Banbury, near Oxford, BMW’s indecision could not have come at a better time.

Now, instead of simply acting as ‘the biggest sales outlet, anywhere in the world, for BMW Motorsport cars and parts’, Prodrive are initiating their own engineering moves.

These have already included the design, development and manufacture of a non-synchromesh six-speed gearbox – masterminded by former Williams and Benetton transmission consultant John Piper, and brought to fruition in the space of only six months.

It is typical of Prodrive’s dynamic approach; talking, for instance, for more than the allotted 10 minutes at a time to Prodrive boss David Richards its bound to leave even the most determined Yuppie deflated.5.5 million.

Here is a man who had the courage and the foresight to sit as co-driver with 1981 World Champion rally driver Ari Vatanen, from his British debut onward, but whose retirement from world class rally co-driving actually resulted in an increase in achievement.

New, 36 year old Richards is winning his championship solo, and commuting in his own helicopter, but when he set up Prodrive, it had neither its present BMW British racing bias nor its Banbury home.

In the beginning, Prodrive ran Rothmans-backed Porches and Metro 6R3s from a base at Silverstone, for drivers such as the late Henri Toivonen and multiple British rally champion, Jimmy McRae.

Before long, Prodrive managed to ‘push’ BMW into allowing them to rally the 3-Series and with that they expanded so rapidly that they very soon had to move to a new, bigger base. They found it in Banbury, in January 1988. The move included 32 personnel and Perodrive now number ‘more than 58, with 75 expected by March 1989′, says David Richards briskly.

Naturally enough, turnover has boomed and the forward projections will doubtless excite interest in the City, too. The founder and majority equity holder revealed, ‘in 1987 our turnover was £1.7 million. 1988 that figure will be around £5.5 million. We expect £12.5 million next year and £20 million annually by 1990.

‘Such growth takes account of the interesting business opportunities created by our competition contacts to increase our engineering business, with a move into retail dealerships also likely. In fact, I think pure competition income will account for no more than £3.5 million of that 1990 total.’

So, who controls Prodrive apart from managing director and majority equity holder Richards? Well, his co-directors include former Rothmans sports executive Ian Parry (sales); ex-Ford competitions administrator Charles Reynolds (competitions); David Lapworth (engineering); former Rolls-Royce employee Dave Campion (technical services) and John Bailey (finance). The engineering division sees equity shares for Mr.Lapworth and designer John Piper, the latter a cheerful young engineer who has worked with Nigel Manshell in both Formula 1 and Formula 3.

The acceptance of BMW’s four-wheel drive 325iX for international competition also stemmed mainly from a Prodrive initiative, but that was almost nothing compared to the idea of taking the M3 into internationally rallying.

David Richards recalls how it happened; ‘We really forced them into it, step by step. BMW were not keen at first, but we have always had fantastic support from the national sales companies, particularly from BMW France. They are the best export market for the M3.’

Thus it was perhaps particularly fitting that it was on the French island of Corsica, last year, that Prodrive engineered BMW’s first world championship rally win.

Such success had its own commercial reward for Prodrive. ‘We built 28 of the 120 competition M3 kits released by Motorsport’, reveals Richards. ‘And besides building the front-running M3s for championship honours in France, Belgium, Italy and the European series that Patrick Snyers presently leads, Prodrive have built up M3s, or materially assisted in BMW’s motorsport programmes, in Holland, Spain, Switzerland, Greece and Norway.’

Most of those M3 activities were concerned with rallying, but Prodrive have not ignored the M3′s racing raison d’etre.

The two-car M3 team which they run under Mobil r/BMW Finance colours, for Frank Sytner, will be familiar to many British TB viewers now that saloon car racing gets regular exposure. At the time of writing, Sytner is just, but only just, leading the British Championship – from Any Rouse in the inevitable Sierra RS500.

Prodrive have also contested some European races this season. The six-speed gearbox, as homologated on 1 July, survived 23 hours of the Spa 24 hour race at the end of the same month (around eight of the European Touring Car Championship), only to be let down in the end by engine failure.

Our test cars were two of the three Prodrive Evolution M3s which are contesting the UK Series; the much-repaired Mike Smith machine and the series-leading M3 of BMW and Alpina UK retailer Frank Sytner.

The differences between the first M3 and the Evolution model were not so radical as to force new cars upon Prodrive. They share the new front and rear spoiler, and lightweight bootlid and rear glass, but it is worth noting that neither power nor weight are notably changed in Group A racing guise.

Prodrive’s senior race technician, Peter Holley, explained: “The road car changed do not affect the racing systems that we use, so power remains around 300bhp for a really cracking example, with 285 to 295bhp the norm.” And race engineer David Potter added: “The quality of the panels used and the slight reduction in glass thickness don’t drop weight appreciably below 1000kg (2200lb), which is still above the M3′s class minimum of 940kg (2068lb).

In Group A racing, in fact, M3 power is augmented by little more than 35 percent, even in the best examples, which is considerably less than any team running turbo cars would expect. This shortfall leads to inevitable discontent, particularly when the M3′s arch-rival the Sierra RS500 can be transformed from 224bhp in road form to a widely available 440 to 480bhp in competition guise.

Three times this season, the disparity between the two has led the German authorities to restricting the Ford’s power output by means of air restrictors, while allowing the BMW’s up to 330bhp with the use of single-side fuel injection. The British rules, by comparison, remain unfettered, save in the less prestigious (Uniroyal/Monroe) ‘production’ series, but David Richards is among those who support rule changes to make the racing closer between BMW and Ford in 1989.

On the M3 rally engines, replacement camshafts help bring the torque peak down to a reasonable 5500rpm, but on the racing engines the 199lb ft peak doesn’t occur until 7000rpm – which explains the need for close gear ratios and plenty of them for circuit success.

The conventional five-speed synchromesh Getrag gearbox has ratios (from first to fifth) of 2.337, 1.68, 1.358, 1.150 and 1.000:1. The ‘Prodrive six’ offers ratios of 2.449, 1.913, 1.579, 1.332, 1.148 and 1.000:1. That means a more appropriate ratio for most race track cornering problems.

Peak power is at 8200rpm, but the Bosch Motronic chip in the digital engine management system of Frank Sytner’s car allows a maximum of 8800rpm. On Britain’s short tracks that will allow Mr. Sytner to brush 150mph, but the wide choice of axle ratios is claimed to yield up to 175mph on longer circuits. German magazines have electronically timed the M3 from 0-60mph in some 4.5 seconds and there is no reason to think the Prodrive examples would be any slower.

The cabin is functional in the business tradition, but far from stark. The door panels are trimmed and the predominantly white colour scheme extends to the steel scaffolding which Matter sell as a roll cage.

As you would hope in a world that is going to be subjected to the considerable g-forces generated by 9-inch wide Pirelli slicks, the driving position bolts you into the car as an integral component, located by six-point Sabelts and the clinging embrace of an ultra light Sparco racing seat, while braced by a massive aluminum foot rest. There is little chance that your feet will slip off either a foot pedal or the floor, since anti-slip grids are liberally applied.

Instrumentation is extensive, with six dials, and functions such as ignition, lightning and fuel pumps are supported by nine, fused push buttons over the transmission tunnel. The Stack rev-counter is a particularly memorable device, for it recalls the maximum rpm used, via two recall commands, and can be plugged into a micro-processor analyser to spew forth engine speed readings at regular circuit intervals.

The four-cylinder 2332cc engine (slightly overbored from standard, at 94.0mmX84.0mm) literally starts on the push of a button. It pays not to touch the throttle pedal, as the engine management automatically accelerates the engine beyond the 1150rpm tickover to produce perfect starts – helped by a Pulsar battery transplanted from a helicopter.

You may study the six-speed plus reverse gearshift pattern apprehensively, but such fears are quickly dispelled by the instant selection of first. There is the inevitable clonk of a generously dimensioned dog-gear box without synchromesh, and the fifth to fourth downshift takes some finding, yet the deft speed with which each shift can be made thereafter will be familiar only to motorcyclists and formula car-drivers.

‘You do have to be brave and just slam the changes through confidently,’ admits designer John Piper, ‘but we are in the process of designing a “Mk2″ unit that will be even better, because the lever will be shortened and a degree of compliance built in to reduce the shocks fed back to the driver in long rallies or 24 hour races.’

Naturally, the engine does not like full throttle in racing trim while the Stack tacho’s needle is in amongst the small numbers below 4000rpm. Even then, you are better waiting to 5000rpm for a rude response. In practice, 7000 to 8800rpm is the natural habitat of this tough, 2.3litre, 16-valve screamer.

For our test, the British Championship silencing was fitted, below 5000rpm the noise emitted really wasn’t much more than that experienced on a sporting road car. But above 5000 there is a definite increase in interest and from 7000 onward the whole unit seems to pull its short stroke act together and soar towards the rev limiter in each gear.

‘You hardly ever hang onto a gear for more than a couple of seconds.’ says Sytner with enthusiasm. You share his glee when the tachometer blinks by barely 400-500rpm on each marvellous change, and the engine resumes its supercar standard of thrust.

As we’ve already noted, the M3, even in Evolution guise, does not have much power by the standards of the ‘boosty boys’ who utilise turbocharging in their Sierras and Nissans, but it transmits every drop to the pavement and preserves every precious decimal point of cornering speed.

The sheer grip available is hard to comprehend in something that bears such a close relationship to a road car, but the steering is not monumentally heavy on the move, even without the standard power steering.

Basically, you point the M3 at a corner under full throttle and it either screams through….or not. In the latter case, just radio the experience Mike Smith for further low level landing advice!

Ask Frank Sytner to list the virtues of his white Evolution steed, and he will cite in comparison to the original car, ‘the car does feel better. It has more aerodynamic bite and it just turns in terribly well.’

We later learned that part of the reason for this lies in the use of 16inch diameter front wheels and 17inch rears. They’re BBS at present, but likely to be Speedline in the near future.

Next, stir in a thoroughly sorted suspension system (based on newly fabricated parts for the MacPherson front struts, and vastly stronger rest trailing arms). Then deploy 1000lb/in front springs (about eight times stiffer than those of a sports hatch!) and 675lb/in rears. In addition, the system is swiftly adjustable in most respects, and has a number of alternative leverage points for the 27mm front anti-roll bar and 20mm rear, to transform roll stiffness.

Of the M3 in general, Frank feels its winning qualities are ‘firstly, robustness – it never feels that you should drive it anything but absolutely flat out, and there are no worries about boost levels, or any of that nonsense. It will run to nearly 9000rpm for 24 racing hours. Secondly, the handling gives it the capability of qualifying in amongst Sierras with nearly twice the power. They brake like hell where we might dab and have to go flat out.’

‘You have to work really hard in this car for a lap time, but it’s supremely satisfying when you succeed.’

‘And thirdly, the brakes are excellent. At 300bhp you try not give speed away, but when you do need them they are brilliant. Not as good as they have been, because the authorities made us lose an inch of rubber width this season, but still fine.’

Whatever the treat from the Sierras, it’s still likely that the cars we drove represent the formula that will ultimately win this year’s British Saloon Car Champship. It was an exhilarating privilege, and maybe there’s a lesson beyond racing – that there must be a future for six speeds in the next generation of roadgoing 16-valve performers.

The car came at me over a shallow left-sweeping crest. Reckon it was travelling at about 100mph, which was interesting on account of it being sideways at the time. Wonder how he’s going to handle the fast approaching hairpin? Oh, now that was impressive; a quick right-flick, drift into the turn broadside and then climb back on to the power as the pops and crackles subside. All four wheels jet-spray us with snow and gravel as the car weaves and bounds back into the cool green forest. A moment of glory that is a Lancia Delta Integrale at full cry on the RAC Rally.

No stranger to victory on the RAC, the Integrale delivered six Group A World Rally Championship titles between 1987 and 1992. With the likes of Kankkunen, Auriol and Biasion at the wheel, the tough little Lancia dominated rallying and spawned one of the world’s truly great sporting saloon cars.

And another moment never forgotten. Approaching Goodwood’s scary Madgwick corner at well over 90mph in a red M3 Evolution. Autocar’s then deputy road test editor at the wheel, me riding shotgun. We crest the ridge and the M3′s tail begins a progressive slide. Driver’s seen it coming because the car told him about it. A dusting of opposite lock, and the M3 settles and sets without a trace of bad manners. Balance – and driving – the like of which I’d never seen.

If the Integrale road car was evidence that racing improves the breed, then BMW Motorsport’s fabulous M3 was confirmation. Homologated for international Group A and N competition, the M3 has garnered a huge number of track victories since Roberto Ravaglia became World Touring Car Champion in 1987. The M3 takes an entirely different route, through, eschewing the turbocharger and four-wheel drive of the Integrale; predictably, M3s were thrashed by Integrales on anything other than tarmac. Fair enough, but elsewhere, the M3 proved a fantically capable racer. They have always figured in European championships and in 1988 and M3 took the British Touring Car Championship with Frank Sytner driving. You’ll know something is up when an M3 Evolution – launched in 1988 – fills your frame. The visual cues are dramatic, but they all serve a purpose. The larger rear window is more steeply raked than a standard 3-series, and the SMC-plastic bootlid and spoiler assembly sits 1.6in higher than the standard car’s. That helps airflow over the body and also generates a little downforce to combat aerodynamic lift at very high speeds. The steel wheelarch blisters are there so that a racing M3 can accept rims up to 10in wide.

Things are no less intense under the bonnet. When development started on the M3′s engine in the early ‘80s, it was decided that a ‘six’ would be too heavy for the balance needed for a racing BMW, so a ‘four’ was engineered using BMW’s six-cylinder engine as the starting point. By 1988, the M3′s massively durable 16-valver had evolved into a 220bhp 2302cc powerplant that will happily spin to its 7250rpm rev limit. In short, the power to back up the look.

Advertising its potential even more stridently than the M3, the Delta Integrale packs huge road presence. The bodyshell that is it based on may be 20 years old, but by the time the 16-valve HF Integrale appeared in 1989, its worked-out shape had reached Muscle Beach proportions; along with wider-wheels and tyres, the Integrale gained a swollen bonnet to accommodate the new engine.  And the changes in ’89 went far beyond the cosmetic, too. As well a 200bhp 16-valve 1995cc turbocharged powerplant in place of the old eight-valver, the Integrale’s four-wheel drive system was retuned so that 53 per cent of the drive was sent to the rear wheels, as opposed to 44 per cent on the previous ‘Grale. That meant sharper response and less understeer on the limit. And stiffer suspension reduced body roll.

We are attracting attention. Spearing along the M27 at a legal pace, we watch as a police cruiser passes, slowing dramatically at the sight of our convoy, sullen faces looking long and hard. An M3 followed closely by an Integrale is plainly a moving violation looking for a place to happen. These two may be 10 years old, but they are still fantastically quick by any standard. An Integrale will reach 60mph in a shade over six seconds, with the BMW behind by a couple of tenths. Top speed for the BMW is just under 150mph with the ‘Grale managing 130mph. But those numbers don’t begin to tell the story; across country on sweeping A-roads and technically challenging B-roads, only a handful of modern cars will stay with this duo. And even fewer will be as entertaining along the way.

The BMW’s door lets out a satisfying, multilayered thunk as it shuts behind me. Massively supportive seats firmly embrace, three-spoke steering wheel offering fine view of tach and speedo, heavily sprung gearlever offering up a dogleg first. The driving position is just about perfect. As the BMW begins to roll, the engine note starts out a bit lumpy, but soon smooths out to a metallic basso. At 400rpm in third the M3 goes very, very hard. At 5000rpm in third, when it feels like it can’t possibly have any revs left, it gives you another 2000. Amazing. Through high-speed corners, the BMW’s balance is uncanny, thoroughly adjustable on the throttle and completely reassuring. The car moves around, communicating, teasing. It’s a precise tool but without being clinical about it.

The Integrale is right there, covering every move the M3 makes. It’s a very different character, though. The Garrett T3 turbo uses a smaller turbine than the eight-valve Integrale for better response, less lag. There isn’t much lag, to be fair, but you still get that ‘turbo movement’ when the engine gets enough puff on to deliver an almighty shove. It’s not a particularly linear response, but while that trait can be pretty frightening in old 911 Turbos, the Integrale is so massively secure that it just isn’t a problem. Through slower corners, you’ll find yourself getting on the power incredibly early and, with that rear torque-bias, a little amusing oversteer is not out of the question. The steering is precise, with even sharper turn-in than the M3, and the Integrale can cover challenging ground at a stunning rate. But while the ‘Grale is demonstrably quicker point-to-point than the M3, it does feel slightly less involving.

Inside, the Integrale’s cabin is more chaotically laid out than the M’s but some of the earlier car’s foibles have been sorted. The tacho’, for example, starts at 3 o’clock so that the wheel rim doesn’t obscure the numbers. And like the M, the ‘Grale’s seats are wonderfully supportive. Which is a good thing because the amount of grip on tap from those 205/50VR15 tyres is simply huge.

The M3 and Integrale were only ever produced by the factory in left-hand drive. Don’t let that put you off; lhd doesn’t get in the way of a truly great driving experience. And with good examples of each going for less than £10,000, they approach affordability. Not bad for a car that will go sideways through a forest at 100mph. Or one that will get you through Madgwick in quite some style.

It’s the type of car that gets you in trouble with the law…it is so responsive that you want to drive it hard. This car has some very good natural abilities in its production state. You can feel the road. You know it’s there. The speaker is Willy Lewis. The car is the BMW M3. In our unending quest to find out what cars will do when pushed to the limit, we enlisted the help of Lewis, a stock M3, Ray Korntan’s firehawk racing M3, arid Watkies Glen International Raceway. It took more than a little effort to pull all of those things together at the same time, but after several changes and many promises “not to do anything silly,” we found ourselves on a fine summer day at the legendary road course.

Watkins Glen is where it all began. If you are into sports car racing, then you know that the tiny up state town everyone calls The Glen gave birth to the Sports Car Club of America, to sports car (read foreign car) racing in America, and much of what we hold sacred about racing today.

After some very hard times, The Glen is back in a big way. The course is beautiful, and a perfect place for us to see just how much racing can improve the breed.

The folks at BMW made a street M3 available to us on the condition that we not completely destroy it in our little test. The bright red example they provided had 9000 miles on the clock and one of the strange maladies we have ever encountered in a car: a loose windscreen. The problem would manifest itself at speeds above 60mph by generating a strange hiss from the area of the dash.

At first it seemed to be coming from the radio, but persisted even with the radio turned off. The cure was discovered long before the cause. By cracking one of the side windows, the noise would go away. Lewis was the one who finally discovered the cause of the noise and wondered aloud if the entire windshield might not pop out at some point. We tried not to think about that for the rest of the test.

In all other ways, the street machine was just what any citizen can buy at the local BMW dealer for $35,000 cash money. For a complete road test of the M3, refer to the December 1987 issue of SCI. We will just touch on the salient points here. The car is the spear carrier of BMW’s attempt to get back to the performance market it abandoned in the seventies in favour of the Yuppie market. It is the 1988 version of the 2002tii. That is to say, a state of the art, nearly uncompromising road car that is as fun to drive as any sedan in the world. It will do virtually anything the driver asks of it with ease and restraint. It encourages its driver to push his own limits, but that driver will likely never approach the M3′s. For a capsule summary, refer to Willy Lewis’ quote at the beginning of this story.

Mr. Lewis knows about testing cars that are quite similar and finding the subtle difference. He probably holds more different single-marque titles than anyone around. In 1983, he won the Renault Cup against a zillion other folks in identical RS (Le Car) Renaults and the following year won the inaugural season of SCCA’s Sports Renault. In 1985 he missed repeating that championship by one point. For 1986 he proved that he could also drive formula cars by winning the Barber-Saab Championship. In all of these series, he proved he was the best when it came to running identical cars.

For this season Lewis and his sponsor (more about that in a minute) wanted to do a BMW program in the Firehawk (IMSA showroom stock) series. And if you are going to do a BMW program in showroom stock, who better to hook up with than Ray Korman.

Now understand, Lewis’ deal was not the usual beer or tire or oil or tobacco deal. Nope, ole Willy got himself linked up with an art gallery. Yeah, you know, like Picasso or Rembrandt or Da Vinci. Well, in this case, the connection happened to be Van Gogh. To be more precise, it was the Van Gogh painting Les Irisis, which sold last year for a record $53 million. That painting belonged to a friend of Willy’s, one John Payson. Payson owns galleries in Maine, Manhattan, and Florida. His business is selling works of art, and he felt that one way to reach an affluent audience of potential customers was through racing. While beer and oil and tire companies might want their name on a car, Payson had something more elaborate in mind. He commissioned one of the artists he deals with to design and execute an original graphic on the car. Then he also had a second car built and painted just for display in his galleries and at other shows. (For the very dedicated and observant BMW types in the crowd, we will tell you that the show car is not an M3, but a 325 that Korman’s shop converted to look like an M3. It is still a 325 under the skin.)

“The race car is conceptual art,” explained Payson. “It is art for the moment. They display car and the painting that goes with it (they are artistically one unit) are permanent art. And they are for sale as art objects if anyone is interested.”

If you have to ask, then you can’t….etc. Anyway, the going price is about $100,000. Remember, you are getting one of a kind here.

The artist who did the design, Gary Buch, says that the design is, “a very abstract representation of a tree over the car or a shadow of a tree over the car or a shadow of a tree with the leaves being ripped off the back.”

That’s very nice, Gary, but let’s leave the art to Connoisseur and get back to racing.

The main secret of the M3′s success, of course, is the 2.3 litre 16 valve four banger that pumps out 190+bhp in standard trim. That moves the 2700 pound car through sub-16 quarters and 7.5 second 0 to 60sprints. Those numbers are not all that impressive, but then Americans are the only people in the world who think standing start times are important. What the M3 does as well as nay car we have tested is respond. Between 40 and 90 on most roads, the M3 in standard trim will do its driver proud against any competition.

All of those qualities, unfortunately, add up to some serious problems for the M3 as a showroom stock race car. With the M3, BMW has done many of the things that racers would normally do to street cars to make them into showroom stock racers. The attention to detail, the assembly, the choice of springs and shocks, and a hundred other things have already been optimized by BMW. That means that preparing an M3 for showroom stock racing yields less improvement than with most cars.

Not to worry, however. If you are going to prepare and race BMWs, there is just one place to turn.

Ray Korman probably knows more about setting up and racing BMW showroom stock cars than anyone in the country. In 1986 he built and raced the only Sports class car to ever win overall at an IMSA Firehawk race. His 325e BMWs were the scourge of the Firehawk series whenever they raced. Korman cars won half the races and the series championship for BMW.

Korman began learning his BMW magic by working on an 1800ti at tracks in Bangkok, Singapore, Macau, and Kuala Lumpur when he was stationed in the Far East by the US Air Force. He also ran BMW’s with numbers like 2002tii, 320i and 325e. By the time he came face to face with M3 last year, he knew that he had his work cut out.

“The photo of the M3 that you’ve seen in the magazine ads where it’s lifting a front wheel shows you our problem. At speed in certain types of corners, the front would lift and air would get under the car. The car would understeer right off the track. We would have to go into the corner and then lift to make the front bite. Since the cars behind us didn’t know we were going to lift, we got hit more than once,” says Korman.

“Also, the brakes got very hot. They would work very well, but build up to 1600 to 1800 degrees. Last year we did more with brakes than in all the previous 20 years I have been running BMWs. The brakes were an utter disaster on street courses. John (Andretti) virtually destroyed a car when he hit the wall at Columbus.”

So Ray and his people went to work on the suspension and the brakes. They spent a lot of time getting the proper sway bars and shocks. Both are adjustable: the bars are from Korman, the shocks from Bilstein. The IMSA rules allow negative camber, which is added to M3 by cutting slots in the tops of the mounting towers to lean the shocks inwards. Those changes were just hard work and lots of time.

“The brakes,” says Ray, “are a super secret.”

He will be happy to sell you all of his special pads you’d like to have, but they are outrageously expensive because to make them he has to buy new BMW pads and scrape all of the pad off the backing plate and then mold the new material onto those plates. That means you have the price of a set of pads before he ever begins working his magic.

To make them work right, however, you will need a set of special wheels (at nearly $300 a pop), and guess where you get the wheels? Right again, BMW fans. Korman had the wheels specially made in Japan and had to buy lots of them, so he has a good supply. They are built to extract air from around the brakes so that more cooling air can be pulled from the back. After all, 1600 degrees is not the optimal temperature for brakes running a 24 hour race.

“We don’t get any major horsepower improvements out of the engine. BMW builds these cars very carefully. But we go through the engine and make certain that it is right,” Korman says.

“You don’t get to make many changes, so you have to be certain that you are getting 100percent out of the changes you do make.”

Ray says that if an M3 is brought to his shop, it will cost something like $9000 in parts and $9000 in labour to create a competitive Firehawk M3. Oh, and be sure the radio is wired completely separately. “The first time we went out (with the radio installed) and keyed the mike, the engine quit.”

So what does all this R&D and test time and money yield?

A car that is surprisingly like the street car. We have tested several showroom stock cars against their street-going counterparts and found most of them to be completely different beast than their stock brethem. The Korman M3 is clearly a racing car, but most of the personality that BMW built into the street machine is still there.

As we cruised the track at Watkins Glen, the most noticeable difference between the two cars was the noise. The Firehawk car has no muffler or catalytic converter, so it tends to be loud, as in 16 valve 200-plus horsepower loud.

Lewis puts it like this: “The street car seems much less powerful. When you are doing 6500 in the Firehawk car, you can really hear it. The street car is much quieter. Both cars are flat off the line unless you want to use the clutch to come up. The engine doesn’t come on until about 3500, then you start feeling the powerband. At 4500 you can ask the throttle to do anything it will. But the cars are more alike than different.”

As Willy pushed a bit, it was clear that the street car was outclassed. It did not have the cornering power at the limits of the Firehawk machine. At first, both cars could stop about equally, but that did not last.

“The street car is so good that you almost forget that it is not a race car. As I came down through the horseshoe, I thought I was driving the race car, until we got right near the limit. Then it feels like you have lots of understeer, but what really happens is the front end starts to come up. It feels like you could throw the back end out, but if you apply power, it just goes strait. You have to fight your instincts, lift, and let the front end bite again.

“Now, on a loose surface that problem doesn’t come up. Probably because you don’t have such high speeds. We went out on a gravel road, and it was easy to induce all the oversteer we wanted. You can really drive the car with the throttle if you want to, especially on gravel.

“The M3 has all the brakes that anyone would ever need on the road, but on track I could feel them starting to beg for mercy. It’s a credit to Ray that he has overcome these shortcomings for the race car. The only thing the Firehawk M3 lacks is cubic inches. To go as fast as Camaros, you have to draft them on the straights. We used to eat them in the corners, but they have new suspensions and brakes and our work is even harder.”

A good time on the long course at The Glen for the street car was a 2:25 (83mph), “a real scary 25. The front end starts to lift and the brakes start to fade by the end of the second or third corner,” says Lewis. “It wouldn’t make a difference for one or two laps, but after that…”

Two years ago, a 2:25 would have put the M3 near the pole, but the times they are a-changing. In serious practice and qualifying, the Firehawk M3 turns laps as quick as 2:20.

“Remember what we are doing here,” said Lewis. “We are pressing these cars right to the absolute limits. On an expressway, 100mph is white knuckle time, and we are going a lot faster than that here. I remember at Sebring I had to brace the steering wheel with my knee to plug in my helmet radio. I happened to look down at the speedometer and we were going 122mph. And there we are saying that a street car exhibits some understeer as 85 under severe loads in a tight corner at the very limits. This is a very good street car. Believe me, I would much rather drive it every day than I would the race car. The M3 is a car that is easy for good drivers to fall in love with.”

The conditions of our test precluded a wheel-to-wheel race, which would have proven very little anyway. After all, the street car had neither a roll cage or shaved tires, and its full exhaust system was just another of its many performance handicaps.

Even in the short stretches of The Glen where the two cars were side by side, the Firehawk car was clearly better. It stuck better, leaned less, tracked more certainly, and had more power at al speeds. It could go into the corners deeper, hold a tighter line, and carry more speed into the straight.

But I have to say that when it came time to go home, I’m glad that the car I drove the 250miles back to BMW was the little red M3. The only thing I avoided all the way back was the expressway. If you are going to drive this little car, find an endless trip of twisty asphalt and keep the revs up high.

The letter M, writ large in chrome and preceded by three diagonal stripes of blue, violet and red. A simple, discreet symbol reserved for BMW’s most potent products. It’s a letter that has graced some memorable driver’s cars, including the mid-engined M1, the four-door M5 and the original, four-cylinder E30 M3. The only M car that was actually a direct product of racing, the M3′s huge abilities and bulging trophy cabinet were the building blocks on which the reputation of all subsequent M-cars has been built.

There’s no knocking the M legend but, since the demise of the four-pot M3, the tricolour stripes have been stuck on some less than satisfying cars. The first six-cylinder E36 M3s were rightly criticised for having poor steering and an unforgiving nature. The later M3 Evo partly addressed these problems but, rather than occupying a place in the all-time greats’ Hall of Fame, it was more likely to be found filling your Managing Director’s parking space. It all seemed to suggest that the M badge had become the property of BMW’s marketing men, not the hallowed Motorsport department. In truth the E36 M3 was probably more suited to BMW’s old CSi tag, but with the M badge having such a strong brand image, the temptation was just too great to resist.

If the original and best M3 had no immediate successor, then the wild M Coupé has the potential to be its spiritual offspring. A development of the M Roadster, the vibrant, violent incarnation of the over-rated Z3, the M Coupé offers the same 321bhp straight-six engine but with the added benefits of increased stiffness, handling precision and even more blistering performance. It’s actually being touted as the most accelerative production BMW ever.

Impressive credentials undoubtedly, but there’s a question that’s been nagging away at us since we placed the M Coupé 8^th out of ten in our recent Car of the year feature. Put simply, is the M Coupé an M-car worthy of the badge?

To find out, we’ve brought it head-to-head, with an original M3, perhaps the purest, most focussed M car of all. Our destination is Spa-Francorchamps, scene of the M3′s finest competition victories in two 24 hour endurance races, and home to one of the greatest motor racing circuits in the world. Better still, when there’s no racing much of the circuit is public road, and those sections that aren’t can still be driven on – if you know the right people.

But first we’ve got to get there. Our first rendezvous point is the Chunnel terminal in Folkestone. Photographer Dom Fraser and I are in evo’s long-term Volvo C70 and as we near the tunnel junction off the M20 we can see two small blobs, one red and the other dark blue, loping along ahead of us. It doesn’t take long to work out which is which. The distended haunches of the M Coupé never fail to shock, and with four stubby tail-pipes jutting from beneath the rear valence and huge chrome alloys filling the silicon-enhanced wheelarches, it’s a crazy sight. Whether it looks good is the sort of debate that will rage forever more. Don’t ask me. I fluctuate wildly between loving and hating it in the same sentence. Let’s just say I’m glad it exists, even though I’m still not quite sure why it exists.

The M3 couldn’t be more different. Based on the boxy E30 saloon bodyshell, it blends into the traffic remarkably well, which is one of the things that endears it to owner Chris Metcalfe (no relation to our beloved leader). The dark hue (Macau blue, in case you’re interested) helps, but whatever the shade you can pretty much guarantee that if you get gawped at driving an M3 you’ve either got Caprice sat in the passenger seat or the gawpers are hardcore petrolheads sussing whether it’s an Evo II, as our car is 2.3litres, 220bhp, 16in alloy, more pronounced front and rear wings, thinner side glass and a lighter bootlid.

It’s the M3′s air purpose rather than pomp that I find reassuring. The Quattro-style boxed arches accommodate race-scale wheels and slicks; the front and rear wings are there to keep you glued through Eau Rouge, and the re-profiled rear windows lies at a shallower angle to regular E30s to tidy the airflow. The whole car is peppered with trick homologation tweaks; mods that add unnecessary work and cost to the road car but build-in the potential to shave vital tenths from a race car’s lap times.

Hailed as one of the best front-engined rear-drive cars of all time, the M3 is a car I’ve always wanted to drive, but until now the chance has eluded me. Once the cars are parked nose-to-tail on the train, I’ve got a scant 35 minutes to decide when and where I want to lose my M3 cherry. If I let enthusiasm get the better of me, and it stands a good chance after reading ten years’ worth of road tests and features, I’ll jump straight in, nose out of Calais and spend the next three hours or so in fifth gear, regretting my impatience while charting a dead-straight line for Belgium. In a rare demonstration of willpower, I plump for the M Coupé, fire up the zingy, crackling engine and fall instantly in love. Damn, I think. This feature’s just got a whole lot more complicated.

We head up the French coast in convoy – smoky, gritty industry to our right, murky English Channel to our left. It’s not the most testing road, but it does give me an excuse to stretch the Coupé’s legs. It might look like a joke to some, but place any doubter in the driver’s seat and the seriousness of the M Coupé’s performance will ensure the laugh sticks in their throat.

Far from insulting you from the acceleration, the Coupé’s long, van-like roof seems to amplify the sensation of speed, the lack of wind noise allowing you to hear the magnificent engine at work. It’s a sensational powerplant. Every one of its 321 rampant horses has a sharp, steely, precision-machines edge to it. In fact few motors deliver such a sustained torrent of power. As if to underline the point, twinkle-toes Harry Metcalfe drove the Coupé to 60mph in a searing 4.3secs at the MIRA test track. In this class, only TVR can provide similar ballistics on a £40k budget.

One thing that does surprise me about the M Coupé is that it’s a frantic cruiser. Sat at around 90mph, there’s a good 4000rpm on the tacho, which makes it a noisy long distance car. Unfortunately, due to the Z3′s dimensions, both the M Roadster and M Coupé are too short to accommodate the M3′s six-speed gearbox. Thus hamstrung, you have to get used to the vocal engine, not to mention the dent in the fuel consumption and the puny range from the 11 gallon tank. Don’t expect to go more than 200 miles between refills.

We’re taking big bites out of France now, but as we slip across the unmannered boarder into Belgium the weather starts to deteriorate. Thin spray whisps up from the M3′s newly fitted Goodyear Eagle F1s. It’s getting colder too, with the ambient temperature hovering around 2 degrees C. The M Coupé feels stable enough, but with well over 300bhp, wide gumball tyres at the back and no traction control, my grip on the steering wheel tightens ever so slightly.

They’re the sort of conditions that make normal people back-off, but after miles of slipstreaming inches from my quadruple tailpipes, an elderly madame finally intimidates me into letting her through. I glance up to see her draught past, hunched over the steering wheel and peering quizzically into the murk, her red Peugeor 106 1.1XN absolutely flat to the boards at 100mph. I have visions of her piling Schumacher-like into the back of the M3, and am mighty relieved when I see both BMW and Volvo dive out of her way.

Mildly deflated at having been comprehensively toasted by an octogenarian grandmother, the rest of the journey passes without incident. Oh, except for the snow. As we close-in on Spa-Francorchamps there’s at least two feet of snow piled at the side of the roads and the pine trees have a distinctly Christmassy look. Bugger.

Spirits rise a little as we realise we’re actually on the road section of the GP circuit, but as we plunge down towards Eau Rouge we can see more snow settling across the famous corner. We head gingerly up the hill and along the straight to Les Combes, the point at which the public road continues straight on and the purpose-built part of the circuit spears to the right. We peel off to the right and notice that the barriers to prevent people like us from sneaking a full lap are open. Well, what would you do? I found it quite comforting to see that just as some blokes never grow out of finding amusement in blowing-off, when you have access to a rear-wheel-drive car, snow and a deserted road, much pratting around tends to ensue. Hell, even Harry starts doing handbrake turns in the Volvo. Only the sight of Chris narrowly avoiding topping and tailing his M3 along the Armco makes us see sense, and so we head to our hotel.

After a comfortable night in the Hotel le Roannay, retreat for Mr B Ecclestone, M Moseley, M Schumacher et al during the GP weekend, we emerge to the pleasing sight of snow rapidly melting. Now, I decide, is the time to drive the M3. Climbing into the left-hand driver’s seat, the immediate impression is of an old car. The dash is shallow, your face close to the windscreen. The driving position is good, though, with firm, supportive seats placing you within perfect reach of the big steering wheel and well-spaced pedals. It’s a five-speed box with a dog-leg first just to keep me on my toes, but it kind of adds to the race-rep feel. The first few miles are easy. The M3 feels small and agile, the controls slick and well-weighted. Crucially, I feel at home, comfortable and, above all, confident.

Photographer Fraser asks us to drive up and down the start/finish straight, me in the M3, Chris in the M Coupé. Once all the fluids are warmed through, it seems right to rev the M3 a bit harder. It feels strong and gutsy, responding cleanly from low revs and pulling sweetly through the mid-range. Of course, it doesn’t feel limp and peaky either. Powering past the pits, working up to 7000rpm in second and third, the M3 really digs deep, though partly because of the hard-working engine note, I don’t expect it to stand a chance against the beefy M Coupé…..

Inevitably the pace picks up until we are wringing every last rev out of our respective steeds. From a standing start I know the M3 is dead meat, but from a slow rolling start in second gear, right the way through the 80 or 90mph the little M3 keeps its nose ahead. And through the M Coupé really starts to charge at the top end, the lighter, keener M3 gets that marginal advantage early on and won’t give it up without a fight or a long straight. Both Chris and I are amazed, and the M3 goes up another notch in our personal esteem.

There’s always a classic moment in any great photo-shoot, and mine comes at a most unexpected moment. I’d like to say it was whilst grappling my way through a 130mph corner, manfully balancing a knife-edge slide with the unflappable control of Michael Schumacher. Actually it’s while waiting patiently in Spa-Francorchamps’ famous Bus Stop chicane. The M Coupé’s long, bulbous bonnet is pointing back down the fast public road section of the GP circuit, against the true racing direction and facing the exit of the heart-stopping Blachimont kink. Chris has somehow managed to wrestle his M3 from my sticky mits and guns it away from our resting place, heading in the direction of Mr Fraser’s Nikon. Instinctively I drop the windows.

The air is cold and crisp. Icy mist hangs in the pine forest lining the road. There’s no other car to be seen and as the bluff, boxy little M3 blats into the middle distance, all I can hear is the fruity, urgent, racerish blare of its four-cylinder engine. By some strange acoustic trick, the noise level remains almost constant while the M3 shrinks to a small blue blob, slices through the curve and on out of sight. Five gearchanges punctuate the sound and I can even heat Chris shuffle on the throttle as he tackles Blanchimont before the noise hardens once more. Put some of it down to the magic of Spa if you like, but that one small soundbite from two days encapsulates the charisma of that unassuming car and its hand-built 2.3 litre, four-cylinder engine. It’s a very special thing, for sure.

A truly great car revels in all condition. Come rain or shine it’s on it. Bang on it. As faithful and progressive on wet Tarmac as it is in dry, still as able to feed you every subtle nuance of available traction, shift of camber and change of road surface. No surprise, then, that the M3 is inspirational in the wet. I don’t think I’ve driven another car that offers so many options in the same corner. You can shift from mild understeer as you peel into the curve, through all-of-a-piece neutrality at the apex to a deft whisker of oversteer as you sight your exit. No unseemly twitches, no unnecessary correction, just fast, fluid and massively satisfying progress. If you do encounter more of the former or latter there’s feel and poise to spare. Consequently you learn to push beyond its initial limits, revelling in its adjustability and progressive nature. If a well dispatched corner doesn’t leave you tingling all over, I suggest you take up knitting.

Contrast this with the M Coupé through the through the same corner and you come straight to the nub of its chassis’ shortcomings. There’s more grip on offer, which is good, and the Coupé can carry more speed, which is even better, but where the M3 is sublime on the limit the M Coupé is snatchy and spiteful.

The steering responds more keenly, sending the long, gill-straked snout darting for the apex more briskly than you expect given the conditions, but there’s less information flowing through the wheel. Consequently you’re not quite sure whether the front tyres have bitten. Steady, manageable understeer is the M Coupé’s preferred angle of attack, but if you find yourself pushing beyond its normal third-of-a-turn of understeer, front-end grip falls away quite sharply. What feel there was fades away too, compounding the problem of defining where the limit is and ultimately leaving you with less options as a driver.

Try and shift the balance mid-corner as you would in the M3 and you’re rewarded with a wicked snap from unwieldy understeer to grabby oversteer. You’d better have your wits about you when it happens too, for the rear tyres’ transition from grip to slip is not for the faint-hearted. True you’re traveling perhaps 10mph faster when it happens, but if this added pace comes at the expense of progression and feel, then perhaps the point has been missed.

There just doesn’t seem to be a happy medium, a sweet spot where you can power your way from gentle understeer to gentle oversteer without having to work at the steering. It’s a slightly different story in the dry, mainly because you are unlikely to stray into the rear tyre’s twilight zone through fast corners. Basically, it’s planted whatever you do. But again, what should a qualify driver’s car be giving you? Lots of grip is all well and good, but if you can’t feel it, take hold of it between your fingers and s-q-u-e-e-z-e it out of the chassis then you’re missing out on one of driving’s great pleasures. Surely it’s better to have a marginally lower but infinitely more malleable limit than one that offers sky-high cornering speeds but low-rise tactility?

Think we’re being too hard on the M Coupé? Then ask yourself this question. If you gain ultimate satisfaction from that delicate turn-in/apex/exit balancing act, does the M Coupé deliver? I say not, but if you derive a similar buzz from the relatively simple pleasures of Velcro grip and lots of grunt, then the M Coupé is an exceptional car. It’s certainly a million miles from being a bad car, it’s just that in this book it’s feel and character that count, the kind of attributes you can only measure with the seat of your pants, not a scientific instrument. The only area where it genuinely does steal a tangible advantage is under braking, the floating discs taken from the six-cylinder M3 ensuring fade-free stopping power of the head-on collision variety all day long. Not that the old M3′s stoppers are weak. They’re progressive, strong and well-matched to the car’s performance, but ten years is an awfully long time, especially when it comes to brake technology.

If the M Coupé truly is the brainchild of BMW M’s engineering arm, and not the crayon-wielding designers or fast buck-making marketers, then this, in my opinion at any rate, is conclusive proof of a collective genius with far too little to do. Perhaps it’s an indictment of motorsport rule makers. Perhaps BMW just can’t be bothered. Whatever the reason, it’s a crying shame these guys should be longer be burning the midnight oil searching for that elusive technical loophole, hand-building engines, homologating front wheelarches with 1mm of additional clearance, fitting solid front wishbone bushes. Dammit, they should be sweating blood creating the ultimate road-going basis for the ultimate racing car, not building sensationally fast but ultimately flawed freaks.

History is the only arbiter in matters like this. Look back and you’ll find the great road cars we put on pedestals are the products of the all-consuming quest for competition success. Quattro, Integrale, Cosworth, original M3; all owe their finesse, tactility and downright desirability to motorsport. Perhaps BMW would do well to remember what M stands for.