Tested: 1988 BMW M5 Takes Us to Church

Webster’s definition of Darwinian theory concludes “that the forms which survive are those that are best adapted to the environment.” As BMW knows, survival in today’s auto environment calls for power, and lots of it—thanks largely to cheap gas, and lots of it.

Under the M5’s hood rages a twin-cam, 24-valve, 3.5-liter, six-cylinder ghost of an engine. Resurrected from the fabulous mid-engined M1 coupe of the late seventies, it whirs with 256 horsepower in its new home. Hand-assembled by BMW’s Motorsport branch, the big six hurls the meaty-tired, big-braked, tautly suspended M5 brickbat to almost 150 mph. As a prime example of the high-performance roadware thundering through our times, the M5 proves that, Darwin and your loan officer notwithstanding, now is the age to go ape.

So what if the M5 looks as if it were designed when Darwin was still living? Bimmer buyers have naturally selected this shape as one that strikes their fancy. BMW roughed in the profile of its second generation 5-series sedan back in the late seventies. In those days, the factory was determined not to digress from its familiar blocky styling, and the four-door’s contours came out like almost a genetic duplicate of its predecessor’s.

In 1982, BMW delivered its new box to America as the 528e. Its low-revving, 2.7-liter engine paid homage to fuel economy and low-end torque, undercutting BMW’s reputation as a builder of “ultimate driving machines.” While Europe continued to enjoy the output of BMW’s horsepower department, American Bimmer loyalists were forced into the slow lane. BMW’s U.S. sales continued to set records, however, as the company coasted on an image built on fifteen years of rave reviews.

Then, in 1983, a new evolutionary form emerged: Audi’s slick 5000S blasted out of the wind tunnel and threatened to show the rest of the world’s sedans just who was the fittest of all. Not only was the trimly rounded Audi the first modern sedan to manifest serious attention to aerodynamics, but its creators quickly backed up their threat with turbocharging and four-wheel drive.

BMW, faced with this triple whammy of technology, did what it always does, soon­er or later, in the face of adversity: it dug deeper into its power bin. Much deeper. Along came the 533i and the 535i, the first “i” cars to suggest that BMW was here to play for keeps. This year came the hard cases from the Motorsport mob, finally bringing us the same good stuff that Eu­rope has been taking for granted. The M6 coupe (C/D, July) lit the way with a top speed of 144 mph. The mini-motor M3 pocket rocket (C/D, November) ripped right up lo 141. And now comes the M5, denying its four-door demeanor by boom­ing into battle at 147 mph.

The M5 and the M6 share the same en­gine: 3.5 liters of displacement, Bosch Motronic fuel injection, an aluminum crossflow head, four valves per cylinder, machined intake and exhaust ports, pent­roof combustion chambers, a 9.8:l com­pression ratio, an oil cooler, a low-restric­tion catalyst, dual exhausts—and 256 hp from 211 cubic inches. BMW’s biggest six displaces marginally more than its single­-overhead-cam sister, and thanks in part to a larger bore and a shorter stroke, it revs higher. In any of the first four gears of the Getrag five-speed, the M motor flies past its 6500-rpm power peak to a 6900-rpm redline. Then a quick double snick of the gearbox: pumps the big six back into the heart of its broad power band, and the lusty vroom continues. (BMW offers no automatic to drag down the M5’s output at the rear wheels.) Our fifth wheel trans­lates the 3504-pounder’s acceleration into a 0-to-60 time of 6.3 seconds. The M5 covers the quarter-mile in 14.6 seconds, crossing the line al 95 mph, with another 52 mph still to come. For a boxed-off, four-door folks-wagon, those are hot numbers. The only things that can cool them are a smallish gas tank and a 10-mpg EPA city fuel-economy rating. Happily, as hard as we hammered the M5, we aver­aged a more reasonable 15 mpg.

Black, and only black, smothers the M5. From paint to trim, BMW allows no less serious body color to bear false witness to its intent. Other than its deadly coloring, its thickset stance, and its add-on aerody­namic aids, the M5’s only tip-offs are flashy blue-purple-and-red-banded Motorsport badges on the grille and the tail. The spider-web cast-aluminum wheels shine in rich silver. The bodywork wears an aggressively dueled air dam up front and a rubber-ribbed, stylized-wickerbill spoiler at the rear. The only awkward note is the U.S.-spec bumpers poking out defiantly at both ends, only partly compensating for their clumpy appearance with excellent 5-mph impact ratings.

The Motorsport mavens had pavement abuse in mind when they engineered the M5’s chassis. Their first act was to specify a great, gummy Pirelli P700 for each wheel well. Mounted on a 7.5-by-16-inch wheel, each 225/50VR-16 tire squeezes into its standard 5-series fender arch like a linebacker’s neck through a pipsqueak’s collar. Outfitted thus, the MS abuses the skidpad up to an outstanding and easily controllable cornering limit of 0.83 g.

BMW thoughtfully provides two major handling aids—one complex, one simple. First, as in other contemporary Bimmers, the patented Track Link suspension ar­rangement cancels any latent lift-throttle-­oversteer tendencies from the semi­-trailing-arm rear suspension. Second, conservative tire-pressure recommenda­tions—36 psi in front, 40 in the rear—add another dose of understeer. (We found better results on the road with equal front and rear inflation.)

Thanks to the taut reflexes of the M5’s steering and suspension, any pavement is open to abuse. The anti-roll bars remain unchanged from 535i specs, but shorter progressive-rate springs and heftier gas­-pressure front struts and rear shocks en­courage hard driving without fear of nasty repercussions. The damping calibration swiftly soaks up problems in one efficient cycle of motion. It’s a firm cycle, but whether you’re sightseeing or running hard, the M5 gives good control, never threatening to make a monkey of you.

The M5 is so quick that waiting to pass someone safely creates no frustration: you feel you can afford good traffic manners because the machine quickly compensates for any delays. Its behavior is so calmly composed, so safe and stable at the elevat­ed speeds it readily attains, that in a strange way it calls for added caution: you have to be constantly mindful that trouble can leap up around you too fast for human reaction times to handle.

The M5’s sizable, ABS-outfitted, four­-wheel disc brakes, which are vented in front, always do their best to keep you from harm. Bosch’s electronic anti-lock circuitry never interferes with BMW’s firm braking action, even during hard driving. Yet it stands ever ready should you need to stand on the pedal in an emergency. With the help of the fat Pirellis, the ABS stops the M5 from 70 mph in only 166 feet. This ranks second by only two feet to the modern C/D record, set by the Cor­vette and the Porsche 928S4.

Inside, the M5 is laid out better than the Corvette, but perfection is a detail or two away. Unless you get lucky with BMW’s complicated power-seat buttons, you may have to search repeatedly for the right seating position. And there are no memo­ry buttons to help. Luckily, the steeply raked steering column allows you to tele­scope the padded sport wheel: When your reach finally takes the proper measure of the controls, you find pedals perfectly beneath your feet. Effortless heel-and-toe action and the precise give-and-take of ev­ery control ensure that neither car nor driver feels out of phase.

The M5’s insides look like the finely instrumented and tailored pilots’ cocoon of a deep-space launch vehicle.Judging by the expanses of creamy leather, several cows were generous enough to give the hides right off their backs. The sport seats look great and grab like baseball mitts, but the seatbacks’ bulging Motorsport badges tend to gouge the backs of tall travelers. In addition, the tricolor tape that decorates the badges has a tendency to curl at the edges. The dash boasts a broad array of levers, buttons, and dials whose effects on the M5’s climate-control and premium sound systems are top-notch. Alas, our test car’s intermittent-wiper setting failed to intermit. And the wiper-control lever was too easily bumped into action when we keyed the ignition.

If these few imperfections put you off the M5, you’re reading the wrong periodi­cal. This battling BMW is one of those rare, fine cars that have grit-loads of it. And next year, despite the recent infusion of speed and character, BMW will intro­duce an even more highly evolved 5-series. It will be shaped more like an egg than a crate, and the M5 that will eventual­ly descend from the new platform will no doubt have a friendlier relationship with the wind.

Sixty years ago, the shape of Darwin’s enlightening new ideas frightened Bible thumpers into trying to oust his theory from the schools. In 1960, a great film called Inherit the Wind dramatized the infa­mous “Tennessee monkey trial” that re­sulted. The actor Spencer Tracy, restating Clarence Darrow’s case against igno­rance, turned the Bible on its thumpers and quoted, “He that troubleth his own house shall inherit the wind.” Tracy/Dar­row lost the case, but in the end Darwin’s theory won the day, just as it has again with BMW’s evolutionary return to its high-performance origins.

The next M5 will be even better, even faster. The wind won’t have a hope in hell of keeping up. But you can already find ample enlightenment in BMW’s book of Motorsport. Buy this M5 and you won’t have to wait to inherit the wind: you can go out and clobber it into submission right now.

Counterpoint

I love the split personality of the BMW M5. From the outside, this car is all busi­ness: no gimmicks, no screaming power emblems, no wings.Just the stoic stance of an average, everyday German sedan.

Climb in and tum the key, though, and the M5 is instantly transformed from Dr.Jekyll into Mr. Run-Away-and­-Hyde. Engine, engine, engine-the key word here is “engine.” Punch the M5’s lusty, 24-valve six, and you’ll leave be­hind forever the mundane world of the everyday sedan. Should the engine’s scintillating performance not wake you from your staid-sedan slumber, its un­earthly shriek certainly will. Unless you regularly strap yourself into an Fl car, you’re unlikely to know such mecha­nized musical splendor.

Of course, the M5 is outrageously ex­pensive. But then, it wasn’t designed to lead the price brigade. The M5 is a no­-compromises, foot-to-the-floor scream­er built for those who demand the ulti­mate in speed and refinement. The few who can afford it are going to have a ball. —Arthur St. Antoine

Can you believe what BMW is up to? The tightly laced Munich firm is riling Mercedes with its twelve-cylinder 750iL, raising havoc with aftermarket tuners by launching one M-machine af­ter another, and kicking dirt on Porsche by announcing that the Z1 roadster is a go program. What’s next, a $4000 BMW to take on the Koreans?

Probably not. With the M-class, BMW is well and truly back on the wave­length that established its reputation in the first place. The M5 is the classic ex­ecutive express: patently practical, fast­er than a speeding 560SEL, more macho than an East L.A. lowrider with a hyperactive suspension.

I’d rush right out and buy an M5 if not for one niggling problem: you don’t get much change back from $50,000 when you plunk down funds for the fastest Bimmer in all the land. But BMWs have always been expensive, and those of you with looser purse strings shouldn’t fret over spending a little extra for Bavaria’s performance flagship. At a buck a thrill, you’ll write the investment off in no time. —Don Sherman

Big news here: the M5 is not a car. Okay, I know it has tires, an engine, and a steering wheel. But if you start thinking like that, you’re gonna toss this maga­zine down and accuse me of getting silly about yet another overpriced Teutonic road bomber.

Yes, you can find the same basic pieces-a 24-valve six, an independent suspension, and a five-speed-in less expensive sedans, like the Acura Leg­end and the Sterling 825. Fine transpor­tation devices, those, but the M5 is sup­posed to do more than just move you. Its mission is to move you.

That it does. You buy this car for its soul. Everything about it oozes confi­dence. It’s got the heart of a tiger. The big six sounds as if it could rip a V-8 to shreds, and it feels that way, too. The bespoilered bodywork gives off all the right messages.

Listen, a guy I know just bought him­self an M-car—an M6 actually, but no matter. He’s bright, witty, a knowledge­able enthusiast, a fine race driver, and successful enough that he doesn’t have to worry about the price of the reward he’s given himself. He loves his new toy. Judging the M5 as a price-is-no-object toy, I love it, too. —Rich Ceppos

Source: Reviews - aranddriver.com