1995 BMW M3

Convincing evidence that Munich is now the automotive Valhalla.

Archived Road Test

The suspension tuning is specific to the U.S. model, giving the car a superb com­promise between body-motion control and comfort. Yet it pulls 0.86 g on the skid­pad—only 0.03 g less than a Corvette. The M3 is necessarily firm, yes, but it handles pavement breaks with amazing poise. The tires thwop over lateral bumps and cracks, but very little impact makes it through to the driver, and what does lacks the sharp edge you might expect from such a dedi­cated sportster. On really bad surfaces, the impacts come through mainly to the seats, sort of like a kid kicking the back of your seat at the movies, only less annoying.

For such a potent machine, the controls are particularly genteel. The higher-torque-capacity Euro M3 five­ speed is employed, but like other 3-series manual gearboxes, it uses auto­matic-transmission fluid. So this car's shifts are as light and silky first thing on a cold morning as they are in the mild-man­nered 325i. And if the clutch and brake-pedal effort is a trifle heavier in the M3 than in other 3-series, a strong clutch and ferocious braking performance are ample pay back. Stops from 70 mph take only 158 feet. Even the steering, which offers a fair bit of self-centering tug in fast curves and has a firm feel to it at all speeds, will yield to the modest arm strength of your aver­age couch potato.

It's this sense of refinement, of every­-day versatility, that makes the M3 excep­tional. It’s as nice to drive on a leisurely Sunday morning lakeside dawdle as it is to rip through a series of mountain zigzags. But when you're alone in the M3 and the fun police are all on doughnut patrol, something in your brain clicks over. You leave the last stoplight with a 4500-rpm clutch drop. The tires light up, spinning in unison under management of the 25-per­cent limited-slip diff. In two seconds you need second gear, and the tach calls for third barely three seconds later. All the while you hear a beautiful angry yowl from somewhere beneath the suave veneer of the BMW. You swing into the first bend and the nose swivels like the turret on an M1. The wheel could be on a precision lathe; nothing is lost to compliance. The corner tightens, you dial in more lock, and the nose responds in direct proportion. Now you're going too fast, so you ease off the throttle. The car loses speed and kind of hunkers down, but there's no change in heading unless the front end was already pushing, in which case the line tightens. If you are going way too fast, the car will rotate as the back eases out.

Exploring the M3's limits takes dedication; they're disconcertingly high. So high that you'll be pushing your luck on public roads. But as we know from riding with Joachim Winkelhock, the British Touring Car Champion, as well as from less adventurous exploits of our own, there is a whole handling spectrum available to M3 owners in which oversteer balanced with the wheel and throttle promises great entertainment.

If you're not likely to take long trips with adults stuffed in back, then this car could be the one to buy if you want only one. Its all-around versatility goes a long way to meet the frequently conflicting needs of the modern driver. Somehow it manages to blend a sense of upscale priv­ilege and refinement with flashing good looks, spellbinding performance, and refreshing integrity.

The M3, it has to be said, is a car very near the top of our wish list.


One of my most vivid behind-the­ wheel memories is of the Euro M3 I sampled last winter in Germany. The route I chose ticked off more than 200 kilometers, but the 282-hp Bimmer and I made it in a little over an hour, clipping along the autobahn at triple­ digit speeds. My tape-recorded notes sounded like bulletins from the front: "Thrilling acceleration. Telegraphic steering. A near-total absence of brake dive. Delicate, but urgent." Last night I sampled the American-spec M3. Only the saving bleeps of my radar detector hinted at any difference. —Martin Padgett Jr.

I live in Detroit, and this is a lousy car for the city. That's the city's fault, not the car's. The M3's terrific six-cylin­der begs to be wound to the redline in every gear, and the suspension seems happiest when all four wheels are drifting. Try to use such potential on crowded streets and your license will be gone before your third drive to work. So if you're an urban dweller and you fall for an M3, prepare to buy a race­ track, or five miles of curving country road, or at least a local judge. Other­wise, you're in for unremitting, frus­trating self-restraint. Don Schroeder

BMW drivers run the danger of being perceived as status exhibitionists. The reason? The pricey 325is is a nice coupe, but a $14,000-cheaper Eagle Talon TSi AWD can outrun it. Not so with the M3. The only car faster and less expensive (and only by a few hun­dred dollars) is the Mazda RX-7. The M3 approaches it in acceleration and handling, and you would probably want to call a twisty road duel between these two cars a draw. The M3's the quick­est real four-seater you can get for its $36,620 price. No status hazard in that. — Phil Berg

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