"Quit? Why would I? This is the most fun I've had with cars!", I retort, with palpable jittering.
"Right... I'm sure. Next week's car has been ready for a while, I'm told", she again props her glasses further up her nose. She seemingly does it as a hobby.
"There isn't a problem with how I race or review, is there? Did I offend someone in COTW? I thought we settled matters with the Beat's owner", I press, unable to loose that feeling of anxiety in my heart.
"No no, it's nothing like that. Forget I said anything. Please", she brushes me off, standing up and turning her back mid-sentence to pick up her sling purse, looking to get ready to leave. "The owner of this week's car is waiting. We're on a tight schedule."
With cautious confusion, I too, pick up the handle of the drag along suitcase packed with essentials of a several day long trip across a few different continents, and opened the door for us to leave. She isn't... concerned, for my personal well being, is she?
At some point while we were conversing indoors, a car had been driven stealthily as a cockroach to my doorstep and parked there, as obnoxious and uninvited as one as well. I didn't hear the thing coming at all. It looked to be an early 2000s Hyundai Avante in a dull, unassuming shade of purple, front bumper dented so much it encroached into the bonnet space, causing that to bubble slightly, leaving an unsightly gap between the bonnet and fender. The "VVT" badge on said fender has been mistakenly rearranged to read "TVV". I wasn't aware Singapore was prone to natural disasters like earthquakes and hurricanes. How else would you explain this car's... appearance? Aside from the banged up bodywork and badging, there is nothing on the car that suggests that anything had been done to it; not even a car wash before being delivered to me to hoon for a photo shoot and review.
"Are we fucking serious?", I mutter in a low volume, almost asking myself even though the question was meant for Esther.
*expletives substituted
"I'm sorry, is a regular Grab car a problem for you, Mr. Lee?"
"Grab? I'm legally able to drive on public roads too, you know."
"I know. We're picking up the car and heading straight to the airport for Australia. There isn't space for your car to sit for a week where we're picking up the car. I believe as much has been stated in the itinerary I emailed-"
"Okay okay, I get it, we'll Grab", I raise both open palms up in surrender, head down in defeat. Anything to not have her harp on how I don't read my emails. Even if it means I leave behind a dream garage of FD RX-7s, NA NSXes, Skyline GT-Rs, Cayman GT4s...
Impreza 22Bs, Integra Rs, S2000s...
Vipers, 911 Clubsports, 86s, top secret prototype RX-Visions...
and FD RX-7s. Have I mentioned the Amemiya FD yet? I left that behind too.
...and opened the kerbside rear door of the Avante.
Once in, I applied so much alcoholic disinfectant on my hands it spilled over to my crotch, causing a cold burning sensation. The driver set off without a word, not even ensuring we're his customers, or that we've fastened our seatbelts. What an butthole. Maybe I should review Grab drivers on the side.
I look over to Esther behind the driver's seat. She's already belted up, calm as a cucumber on her phone informing our hosts that we are en route. After the call, I thought to ask, "So, what's this week's car?", in effort to strike up a conversation.
"As per my last email..."
"Okay, okay!", I sigh. There goes that conversation attempt. I dig into my pocket for my phone. Four password attempts and a timeout later, we arrived at our destination, and I'm still not into MY account. See, if I wasn't harassed to change my password as often, maybe I'd remember the obtuse combination of uppercase, lowercase, alphanumeric morse code and blood virgin sacrifice to gain the ability to commune with the unholy that is electronic mail.
Given visitor passes, we enter the premises and took the passenger lift up into the expansive building. Once at the correct level, the owner, with the press of a remote, opens up a whole row of garage doors to reveal...
...rows of immaculately preserved, showroom worthy E46 BMW M3 Coupés, in an assortment of body colours. They even have their dealer plates still attached, plastic covers on the seats, the works. These look like they've just been nicked from a showroom and just left to sit here until now... whatever the occasion is.
For a while, there was a heavy silence in the storage facility, as the owner and possibly Esther await my reaction... evaluation... or whatever it is I'm supposed to say or do at this point. Finally, the owner, probably because he was unable to withstand the awkwardness himself, breaks the silence: "Well... these are 2003 BMW M3s, the famous E46 model. Front engine, rear drive, 339BHP. They're all identical, right down to the options. Only in different colours. All showroom fresh, these babies. We have the papers ready to go when you've picked your colour of choice. Here are the brochures from when the car was brand new. I bought a bunch of them when they were brand new, thinking they'd be collector's items in twenty years. But with the M3 CSL and GTR... the value of these haven't moved. You guys are doing me a huge favour buying these at list price".
I relieve the owner of the brochure, still not saying anything, eyes not averting from the fate that awaits me for the rest of the week. The owner, sensing the tension, excused himself to let us have some privacy.
With him gone, I finally manage to say my first words since entering the compound: "Can I review the Avante instead?"
"Is... is there a problem?", Esther steps closer, studying my face.
"It's a BMW!", I exclaim, one hand outstretched at the very apparent problems before me.
"...is there a problem with that?", she asks, again.
"Have you SEEN BMW drivers on the roads?"
"I believe a few passed us on the way here, yes"
"That's not what... Argh. You don't drive, do you?"
"No"
"Have you MET a BMW driver?"
An short, but unexpected pause later, she continues, "Yes".
Sensing I struck a nerve, I opt for blissful, asphyxiating silence instead. Now, according to the broch-
"That's really unprofessional of you, Mr. Lee. As a journalist, you're supposed to be impartial and open minded." As if a switch was flipped, she was back to her calm and robotic demeanour. Is there a switch hidden on the bridge of her specs?
"I know", I respond, matching her apparent cold apathy. "It's just part of the character you want me to sell so much in my reviews."
"Then save it for the review."
"About what we discussed earlier..."
"Yes, what is it?"
"Can I quit?"
She leans further forward towards me, arms akimbo with a glare and pout. Her mouth opens to say something, but the primal instincts of crisis aversion kicked in and I stopped her, "alright, alright! I'll do it, sheesh! I'm kidding!"
The indoor garage once again reverts to dead and awkward silence after two deep sighs, one after another. I stood far back from the, one, two, three... twelve, open garages, each housing a different colour of the same car. As with a late 90s JDM NSX or any Viper, picking a colour for the M3 is an impossible choice to make. Unlike the aforementioned two cars however, it's difficult to pick a colour for the M3 simply because they all look like shit. It's amazing how the folks over at Munich could come up with such variety of paint choices for the car, and somehow manage to make them all, ALL, look soul sapping boring. Yes, it comes in yellow. But with the hardly distinguishable, understated and grandpa looks of the car, it feels like a senior citizen trying to 1337 speak you. It's such a desperate looking, distasteful clash.
Sport sedans turned into coupés are so stupid. You're still dealing with the aerodynamic properties, wheelbase, mass distribution and structural rigidity of a sedan, only now with two less doors and less practicality. If you want a 2 door, front engine, rear drive sports car, why wouldn't you buy something that's designed and built from the ground up to BE a 2 door sports car? You could have an FD RX-7. An S2000. A Corvette. The only possible appeal I can see for these pretend sports cars is so people can go, "I have a family sedan, but it's so special because it only has two doors! So sporty!" Yeah little Timmy. Congrats on being special. You know what's really special though? A real sports car. "But there are people who like the unassuming looks and hail Mary performance!", I hear an argument before I'm even finished writing the review. "Unassuming looks"? Who's going to see four exhaust tips, a bubbled up hood, and wheel arches that could house the Hindenburg and think it's anything less than a souped up car? "I need something to fit my family in on the weekdays and hoon on the weekends", is another argument I can hear from a mile away. And to that I say: Why would you subject your loved ones to a 2+2? You could've bought an Evo, or an Impreza. Those are proper 4 door, 4 seat sport sedans, are they not?
I may understand the appeal of these cars if I think hard enough and try to make as many excuses as I can for them, but what I can never understand is the people who buy these cars. They're either good at lying to others that this is a normal car just like the base models, or to themselves that this is a viable substitute for a real sports car. Any sedan turned coupé to me is just an instrument of showing off, with no real track use. Coupled with its badge, this looked to me like the sort of car for old men to pick up ladies in. ...fitting, I suppose. Knowing you're old is one thing. Accepting the fact, and making the sensible choices to reflect that realisation however, is a bitter pill I've yet to be prescribed.
After a few more minutes of silence in my mid life crisis, internal raging, and trying to decide which shade of boring with which to write a legally binding will on a safety barrier, I decide to ask Esther, "What colour do you think looks best on it?"
"Huh?!", her head snaps up to look at me, as though struck by a bolt of lightning in a cartoon. She must've been as out of it as I had been when I'm undergoing my internal raging. She readjusts her specs, this time with both hands, after the huge shock movement of her head.
"What colour do you think looks best for the car?", I ask again. "I hear BMWs are popular with women. Do you like any colour in particular?"
"Uhm...", she goes, almost biting a side of her right index finger off. "The black one".
"Which black one?", I ask, seeing as there are two black paints offered on the car, conveniently set side by side to each other.
"...the black one", she restates, looking away in embarrassment. I'm... not asking much of her, am I? Then again, I can't pick a colour for the car, so maybe this is a legitimately difficult question to pose, the magnitude of which rivaling that of, "how to end world hunger?", or "why are we still here, just to suffer?" It hurts not because I can't afford it. It's the shame of spending my own money on a Beamer that hurts like putting my balls into a Rotary powered blender.
At least my choices are narrowed down to two. I elected for "Carbonschwarz", as it's cooler than simply "Schwarz", right? As if anyone could tell the difference.
Upon decision, the tyres were swapped for modern ones and filled to appropriate running pressures. The car was then filled with requisite fluids and given a fully charged battery before being started. The grandpa car awoke from its seventeen year nap with a menace that, quite honestly, took me aback. I had thought that BMWs would be civil and refined creatures until instructed to act otherwise, but the grandpa car was having none of it. It roared to life with a bark so sharp, raspy, and technical, it somehow reminded me of the NSX-R I have at home. A sound like that sets forth something primal and instinctive; if cold makes a person shiver, and if yawning was passed down as a sign of safety, begetting more yawns, then hearing this engine makes a driver want to give the gas a good ravaging with his foot.
Revving it in neutral, the engine responded exactly how it advertised itself to me three seconds ago: sharp, immediate, and savage. I'll admit, even someone like me was quick to get addicted to it, even taking light jabs at the gas pedal in neutral. Not only did I notice the lack of any telltale audio cues of forced induction, I also notice that there is no bogus hocus pocus BS fake engine noise being pumped into the cabin: the noise was all mechanical, and glorious. A one unit symphony of anger in a suit at your command. And lastly, the tachometer, attention commanding with it big, centred, and brightly coloured against a black background, depicts a redline of 8,000rpm. Automakers aren't... legally allowed to make tachometers that lie, are they?
Now you've got me... excited.
Having only driven a few metres out of the car's prison cell, I suddenly remembered to ascertain if the owner had the wherewithal to tick the most important option on these cars. At the touch of a switch that's gotten rather sticky and stiff with disuse, the power window on the driver side fully wound down with a whir. "Esther, could you please do me a favour?", I ask.
"What is it?"
"Help me check if the turn signals work?"
Behold: the most cursed image on the internet. Legend has it that the camera which took this photo promptly broke, and the only existing copy survived due to automatic cloud backups, which was hacked an hour later. Esther, who took this photo, suffered food poisoning at the airport after. As for me who pressed the hazards button... well... you'll see. Maybe.
Having made sure the car came optioned with equipment that makes it road legal, I took it out for a quick test drive to ascertain its condition. It didn't take long for us to find ourselves back at the compound, signing the last of the papers before we could drive away with the car.
As an incentive, the owner had even bid for a plate for the car: "SFE46X". While those were being affixed front and back, there was only one last small thing to put on the car before I could drive it on the road proper.
"Esther, could you request some COTW decals for me please?"
"No problem at all", she assuredly answers with immediacy. "This is the first time you've requested the decals. I've been holding onto the ones the office sends every week."
"Oh, cool. You have them on you right now?"
"Yes, this week's supply is with me."
"Good good GOOD!"
"This is... unusual of you."
"I just don't want anyone to think I'm driving a Beamer for anything other than work purposes."
She gives me a look of "really?", before digging into her messenger bag for a folder with the decals. With those haphazardly stuck on the front fenders and rear bumper, we set off for the airport for our flight to Australia.
At pedestrian, sensible speeds, the engine barely sounds awake, in spite of the gnarly startup sound. It was only about 45 minutes by car from the storage facility to Changi Airport, most of which is spent on the expressway. The engine is turning just over 2.2k rpm at Singapore's speed limit of 90km/h (~55.9mph) in 6th, barely over a quarter of the revs the engine is capable of. Its civil demeanour however, belies its own capability, as it's an engine so quiet and unassuming that you'll most likely pick up speed without realising it on the expressway. The instantaneous fuel economy readout dead centre in the dash under the tach tells me that, with Esther on board and our luggage in the boot, holding 90km/h in 6th nets me about 16.2km/ℓ. Neat, I guess, if not a little weird for a performance car to spend real estate to constantly tell me about fuel economy, and not even an average, but instantaneous. Because it's an instantaneous readout, it spikes to 99.9km/ℓ when off throttle, and wildly varies when using a wider range of the powerband.
I'm happy to report that the original owner of these cars opted for the 6 speed manual, as the brochure does mention an SMG-II automated manual with twin paddles. I'm inclined to believe the automated manual would be rubbish, as paddle shifters in production cars are in their infancy in the early 2000s, and even today companies are only starting to get them right. With a manual, city driving is so much more pleasant and smooth; much more so than even entry level cars with no power and auto gearboxes, like the butt clown driving the Avante from earlier can unwittingly prove. The ride supplements the smoothness afforded by the gearbox as well. It's taut and firm for sure, but not spine blending like a 911 GT3 of this era for example. The only real blemish in my short city driving stint in the M3 is that, like all Continental cars, the wiper stalk and signal stalk are switched, resulting in me activating the wipers when attempting to signal, and becoming *THAT* BMW driver on the road.
Goddamnit!
*********************************************
Ahh, Mount Panorama, my favourite racetrack in the world, and admittedly also probably the most dangerous that's still used in any sponsored and sanctioned racing events. One needn't look any further than the starting grid of the track to find danger, as the cars are lined up side by side, barely a car's length from bumper to bumper on a narrow straight with little runoff, setting the theme for the vast majority of the circuit. Seemingly every corner here is named after some tragic accident: Turn 1, Hell Corner, for the tree stump on the apex that would send motorcyclists flying. Turn 18, Forrest's Elbow, named after a motorcyclist scraping his elbow after falling. Conrod Straight, named after an engine failure at speed. Turn 23, Murray's Corner, also named after a racing driver who crashed there. This track oozes danger and death, and is not only unapologetic about it, but is special and proud of it because of that.
While recklessly dangerous with no runoff and steep, sheer drops should the safety barrier fail to stop you, Bathust may not be the best racetrack in the world - that distinction clearly goes to Spa in my opinion - Bathurst is my favourite racetrack, simply because its wide variety of corners and inclines test for and highlight the worst traits of any car, without ostensibly favouring any layout. One would think a MR car would be best suited for a racetrack, but the fast, downhill, rapidly slowing chicanes of Brock's Skyline unsettles and fishes out the rear end of any MR car. The tight, technical, often off camber winding ascent to that peak is an excellent test for a car's cornering prowess, punishing nervous cars at the limit, while rewarding those with enough give in the suspension for kerb abuse. The sharp descent and heavy braking zone into Forrest's Elbow cooks the brakes and tyres of any front heavy car, and Conrod Straight after is an excellent test of not only power and gearing, but aerodynamics as well, given the slight right kink leading into The Chase, again with a disruptive kerb at the apex. Many laud the Nürburgring for being the most demanding racetrack; lap times set there the holy grail of yardsticks. But for me, Bathurst does nearly everything the Green Hell does, at about a third of the time required. You also get a notable few opportunities to pass opponents here as opposed to the Nürburgring, meaning that it's a racetrack that, surprise surprise, you can actually race on. What a novel concept, right?! About the only thing Nürburgring tests for that Bathurst doesn't is jumps. Happily however, that is solely the task of the automakers, not car reviewers, so Bathurst has been my go-to course for longer than I can even remember.
Taking my first few corners at speed, the car was already a hell of a strong impression. It's shocking how refined the suspension setup is; it's taut, yet forgiving, and lets you play around with weight transfer through a corner with almost the ease of drawing the racing line with your hands. The understeer of the car on power is very gradual and controllable. As is the standout trait of NA engines, power is linear and instant. On corner exits, the linearity and precision of the power is matched only by the turning radius increase, forming gradual, stable understeer that you can control with your right foot. The rear end rarely threatens to step out on corner exits, and when it did, it let go so gradually and with such clear communication that you could correct minor slides with just counter steer alone without lifting. This is a very predictable car that allows you to be civil or moronic with it, is equally fun either way, and it takes all the abuse and neck wringing without ever breaking its stride.
Of course, every car has a physical limit. When you abuse the M3 too much, its safe word is "understeer". It never once threatened to bite your head off, or snap in an unexpected direction. It was rock solid, clear cut understeer that takes all the power from your hands in a safe manner. Truly, you would have to go banging on hell's gate with the reciprocating motion of the body of Satan's daughter levels of asking for trouble for the M3 to fight back, like flooring the gas pedal in 2nd while the car is severely off balance. Or just not braking for a corner.
And it is very, VERY difficult for the car to lose its composure. For as forgiving and gradual it is, and for as easy as it is to shift weight around in the car, the car's suspension at no point feel like permits any wasted or excessive movements of the body. There is just enough pitch and roll to put weight on the most relevant tyres, that's it. Nothing more, nothing less. Even the wide variety of dangerous corners at Bathurst couldn't unsettle the car. Truly, this car is a showcase of a master class of suspension tuning. It has a cohesion and composure in the suspension tuning that is an art form I'm hard pressed to find even today.
Does the car have faults on track? For sure. It's quite obviously heavy, both on the spec sheet and behind the wheel. Unlike, say, a GT-R for example, it doesn't try to hide its own mass from the driver. You're always aware of the heft of the brick you're flogging around. I find the front end a bit numb and indecisive under full braking, and it's hard to suss out how to place the car with the steering wheel under braking. The car feels very front heavy to me, as can be expected from something that started life as a sedan that now requires a bulge in the bonnet to accommodate a hulking engine, and nowhere is that clearer than at the precarious, hard downhill braking zones at Bathurst. BMW claims that the E46 M3 has a weight distribution of 50:50, but I'm personally finding that hard to believe. Maybe it's the suspension that's set up for more stability that's causing the sensation of nose heaviness, or maybe it's the centre of gravity being rather tall, but either way, trail braking, and braking in general actually, is a comparative weak point of the M3, given how brilliant the rest of the package is. The gear changes, even on this manual, feel a bit slow to me, as well.
This, all this, is even before we start talking about the engine with due respect. The S54 Inline 6 NA powerplant of this car is not only gnarly sounding and linear as stated before, but is surprisingly peaky, to me, unlike the turbocharged engines of today emphasising low end torque. Peak power comes at a whopping 7,900rpm, and peak torque, 4,900. Remember when I doubted this car's indicated redline of 8,000rpm? Yeah, turns out that was a lie: this engine does 8,500 revs, though you'll probably want to upshift well before then.
Downshifting however, is an absolute joy in this car. The car's relatively poor stopping performance is almost by design to incentivise you to really heel toe at the earliest, most aggressive opportunity. One would think the sound of the engine would be reward enough by itself. I'm really fond of the gearing in the M3, because it never leaves the car feeling wanting on both acceleration and braking. And while the limiter cuts fuel at 8,500rpm on acceleration, on braking it seems to let you go a little higher than that. The end result is that I have revs for any and every situation, no matter how silly aggressive I think I'm being on downshifts. It's a real treat, this thing.
I came away from the drive thinking: This is really rather good! Surprisingly so, actually. Proper sports car rivaling performance for its day. I began to understand that there was a time before "M" stood for more than "marketing". A time when being an "M" car truly meant being special, before every entry level car and their mothers had that letter.
There is one other small thing, though...
Of course, every car has a physical limit. When you abuse the M3 too much, its safe word is "understeer". It never once threatened to bite your head off, or snap in an unexpected direction. It was rock solid, clear cut understeer that takes all the power from your hands in a safe manner. Truly, you would have to go banging on hell's gate with the reciprocating motion of the body of Satan's daughter levels of asking for trouble for the M3 to fight back, like flooring the gas pedal in 2nd while the car is severely off balance. Or just not braking for a corner.
And it is very, VERY difficult for the car to lose its composure. For as forgiving and gradual it is, and for as easy as it is to shift weight around in the car, the car's suspension at no point feel like permits any wasted or excessive movements of the body. There is just enough pitch and roll to put weight on the most relevant tyres, that's it. Nothing more, nothing less. Even the wide variety of dangerous corners at Bathurst couldn't unsettle the car. Truly, this car is a showcase of a master class of suspension tuning. It has a cohesion and composure in the suspension tuning that is an art form I'm hard pressed to find even today.
Does the car have faults on track? For sure. It's quite obviously heavy, both on the spec sheet and behind the wheel. Unlike, say, a GT-R for example, it doesn't try to hide its own mass from the driver. You're always aware of the heft of the brick you're flogging around. I find the front end a bit numb and indecisive under full braking, and it's hard to suss out how to place the car with the steering wheel under braking. The car feels very front heavy to me, as can be expected from something that started life as a sedan that now requires a bulge in the bonnet to accommodate a hulking engine, and nowhere is that clearer than at the precarious, hard downhill braking zones at Bathurst. BMW claims that the E46 M3 has a weight distribution of 50:50, but I'm personally finding that hard to believe. Maybe it's the suspension that's set up for more stability that's causing the sensation of nose heaviness, or maybe it's the centre of gravity being rather tall, but either way, trail braking, and braking in general actually, is a comparative weak point of the M3, given how brilliant the rest of the package is. The gear changes, even on this manual, feel a bit slow to me, as well.
This is full braking on the steep downhill into Forrest's Elbow. Camera is parallel to the horizontal. Notice how little pitch there is in the car in spite of the steep downhill braking I'm asking of the 1560kg (~3439lbs) car.
This, all this, is even before we start talking about the engine with due respect. The S54 Inline 6 NA powerplant of this car is not only gnarly sounding and linear as stated before, but is surprisingly peaky, to me, unlike the turbocharged engines of today emphasising low end torque. Peak power comes at a whopping 7,900rpm, and peak torque, 4,900. Remember when I doubted this car's indicated redline of 8,000rpm? Yeah, turns out that was a lie: this engine does 8,500 revs, though you'll probably want to upshift well before then.
Downshifting however, is an absolute joy in this car. The car's relatively poor stopping performance is almost by design to incentivise you to really heel toe at the earliest, most aggressive opportunity. One would think the sound of the engine would be reward enough by itself. I'm really fond of the gearing in the M3, because it never leaves the car feeling wanting on both acceleration and braking. And while the limiter cuts fuel at 8,500rpm on acceleration, on braking it seems to let you go a little higher than that. The end result is that I have revs for any and every situation, no matter how silly aggressive I think I'm being on downshifts. It's a real treat, this thing.
I came away from the drive thinking: This is really rather good! Surprisingly so, actually. Proper sports car rivaling performance for its day. I began to understand that there was a time before "M" stood for more than "marketing". A time when being an "M" car truly meant being special, before every entry level car and their mothers had that letter.
There is one other small thing, though...
*********************************************
The first race of the week was held in Croatia's own Dragon Trail, the "Gardens" layout... in reverse.
You guys think my reviews take time and effort? Have you met these people who make bespoke, full on racing liveries for their cars each week?!
Gardens being a track I'm not very familiar with, I was perfectly content to hang back and get reacquainted with the car after the long flight from Australia. The rest of the club, however, were out for blood, as always.
Side by side in the quick, quirky, quintuple left handers of death? What is with Vic and going side by side with Nat? Is it trust? Is it grudge? Is it love or hate? I can't even tell.
Seeing Nat gradually close the gap to me however, instincts began to kick in and the competitive, try hard side in me awoke.
Goddamnit.
Uhm, physics, I respectfully disagree with your assessment of how my car caught air.
WHY CAN'T YOU LET THIS OLD MAN RETIRE IN PEEEEAAACEEEEE?!
NOT YOU TOO VIC! *waves cane in the air* Ow my back!
*********************************************
After that embarrassing display, we were off to Italy's Sardegna Road Course.
And it's here that... um... things went very, very wrong, for almost everybody. It started with a wall. A very, very sturdy wall, jutting out into the racing line...
Second week in a row now Nat has nailed me on the side. I am calling for her immediate dismissal from COTW.
(I can't believe I forgot all about this GIF a week ago, when I was even in a red Honda! Argh!)
Looking through the GoPro footage of others, I realised that my car was the only one with a working fuel economy readout. Huh, my dealer really takes care of these things.
The Supra looked as factory fresh as my E46 when I got it. It didn't even have a license plate, let alone a livery. With ballast dumped onto the passenger seat of the Supra to match our E46s, and with it mysteriously already being up to temperature, the race was finally able to begin.
...wait, there's a Toyota showroom in Croatia with a preserved, stock, 1997 Supra RZ ready to be stole-
The lights went green as I wondered that.
At launch, the AWD monsters destrolished the mortals among us in RWD cars, as if that needed saying. With them in the lead, we RWD drivers squabbled amongst ourselves for earthly gains.
Now now Nismo, I'm sure you're a smart, sensible person. I'm sure you're aware that this week is dedicated to the E46 M3, NOT the R8. BACK OFF!
A drag race with Nismo for rights to the racing line into the Chicanes of Death? I've heard the rumours, Nismo. If Initial D has "God Hand" and "God Foot", then you are COTW's "God Limbs", being able to shift sticks faster than anyone else... interesting! I shall see how I fare against someone like you!
SIDE BY SIDE INTO THE CHICANES OF DEATH!
WHOOPS! SORRY!
Now, Nat. About the papers... and the dents in the Supra.
And it's here that... um... things went very, very wrong, for almost everybody. It started with a wall. A very, very sturdy wall, jutting out into the racing line...
Photos with no happy endings: Exhibit A.
"I heard a lot of banging, and screaming... not the good kind" (citation needed) - Racer283, the only known survivor of "The Sardegna Bincident"
After the mess, Vic attempted some drifts in the by all accounts unwilling M3. I finally got to see with my own eyes as it unfolded before me, the legendary grudge of Vic vs Tyres, and finally have my own photos of it to pass down onto the next generation:
*Eurobeat Intensifies*
I won the race, but that was only because Vic went drifting.
So sir, which will it be? 1km/ℓ or no km/ℓ?
It's also here that I realised the M3 has a very large and visible radiator fan up front that doesn't move. No, it doesn't come on even when idling or revving a standstill. I tested it after.
*********************************************
Winning the last race put me dead last on the starting grid of Bathurst, my favourite racetrack in the world, and the stars couldn't be more perfectly aligned if I drew them (okay WHAT is that analogy?). It was this race that I borrowed an R34 GT-R from someone very, very close to me, to race a grid of 6 other M3s.
Now, I understand that at first, this may seem like an odd comparison to make, but hear me out, okay? Both started life as sensible, everyday sedans, then turned into 2 door coupés. One model year separates the two. Both are homologated into highly successful racing cars. Both have Inline 6 engines up front that like to be shifted at around 8,000rpm, going through a 6 speed manual pushing around the exact same kerb mass at 1,560kg (~3439lbs). Both have noticeably flared fenders housing upsized rubber; 225/45R-18 front and 255/40R-18 in the rear for the M3, and 245/40ZR18 all four corners for the R34. While wildly different in appearance and cultures, the two are shockingly similar on paper once you put them side by side.
Where the R34 differs from the M3 however, is of course it has part time AWD, while the M3 is solely rear drive. The turbocharged unit in the R34 displaces less at 2.6 litres, in comparison to the M3's 3.2, and also makes less power than the NA unit in the M3; my car made a measured 340PS the day before the race, 3PS down from the claimed 343PS made by the Beamer. Of course, the biggest difference is that the M3 we have on our hands isn't the coveted GTR; the R34 I'm sitting in, IS a GT-R.
What I didn't tell anyone however, was that, prior to the meet, I had also ran the R34 around Bathurst, after forming initial driving impressions in the E46. The GT-R, in its spiritual stomping grounds, clocked in a 2:32.479 on Comfort Soft tyres, a whopping one and a half seconds faster than the M3 on the equivalent Comfort Softs. As self indulgent and boastful as it no doubt makes me sound, I wasn't at Bathurst for a race; I was there to make a statement: Why can't the M3 be THIS good?
Hey, I spent 86 THOUSAND USD on this car that I don't even like, before taxes! Do you know how hard I worked for that kind of money? Do you not sympathise with my pain and hardship?! I'm ALLOWED to be an butthole every once in a while! The world HAS to understand my pain and give me due reprieve! (Conversion to "Typical BMW Driver" Status: 56% complete.)
The first lap of four went swimmingly, actually, with me gaining 6 places at the end of just the first lap. Only Vic stood between me and the win, and Vic being Vic and all, wasn't going to let me have it easily. I was still feeling out the limits of the GT-R and getting re-acclimatised with its unique handling characteristics, and so I was taking it easy, braking early, lest I hit someone, which would make for a very ugly mess to try to explain away when driving a wildcard car in a One-Make race, since others won't know how your car performs, and by extension, whether your move was reasonable or not.
Even when driving it at about nine tenths however, my R34 stuck to Vic's M3 like our bumpers had magnets attached to them. Corner after corner, no matter the shape, size, or camber, my R34 stuck to the back of the M3 like we were hitched together. On the straights, there was nothing between the two cars, either. I feel that the M3 has a slight advantage in the straights, as the R34 kept with the M3 sitting in the latter's slipstream, unable to gain anything substantial to make a move (Editor's note: the race was done on game Version 1.60, before 1.61 dropped a day after the race and nerfed the slipstream range).
Once comfortable with the GT-R, I decided to make my move at the start of Lap 3. Alright Vic, it was fun and all, but I'd like my position now if you don't mind.
Thing is, Vic did mind. A lot.
While I slowly came to grips with the GT-R over the first two laps, steadily increasing my pace, Vic on the other hand suddenly flipped a switch and unleashed a tidal wave of speed out of nowhere! It's almost like his car hid a bottle of NOS where no COTW official could find, as he even pulled a gap of almost a second on me on Conrod Straight Lap 3. It wasn't just the straights, either, he began to pull a slight, but noticeable gap on me on corner exits in the technical sections of the track, and I'm supposed to be the one with better corner exit traction! I'm wringing the neck of the GT-R, half drifting, half gripping into corner entries, like its ATTESA AWD system wants me to! I'm shifting the RB26DETT at 8,000rpm, like I should! Right?!
Vic then proceeded to renew his fastest lap record by a whole SECOND with his third lap!
Did... did his car get lighter after burning NOS? Seriously, what are we doing here, Gran Turismo, or Need for Speed?! To quote another racer in a superior yellow sports car getting punked around a mountain by an inferior white sleeper car, "Am I seeing the ghost of a driver who died on this mountain? This is like a bad nightmare I can't wake up from... is my secondary turbine even working?!"
I'm sorry, did I say earlier that Vic wasn't going to let me have it easy? Scratch that; Vic wasn't going to let me have it. FULL STOP.
All seemed to be lost for me, as desperation began to set in, and I began to act on that desperation and stupidity, extending track limits and even grazing walls in my "rental" car. This is my win damnit! This is MY story! This is MY statement! What would I say in my review if I went and lost to a base M3, right here, right now?! It's not even a CSL, not even a GTR!
However, there was one area that the GT-R was undeniably, shockingly better than the M3 at: braking. Even with visibly smaller discs, the name "Brembo" must add about 20µ to the Coefficient of Friction to the pads and discs, because on the biggest braking zone of the circuit, The Chase, my GT-R closes anywhere between 0.2 to 0.3 seconds to the M3 from braking to apex. I suspect the larger front tyres in comparison to the M3 helps tremendously in that regard. Yet, to pass, I actually need to be within said 0.3 seconds of the M3, which is rather difficult considering my GT-R of all things actually gets outgunned on the straights, with the launch taken out of the equation.
With the biggest braking zone out of the way on the last lap, there was only one last corner to go. Vic seems to have this in the bag, lest I punt him out the way just to make a point in my review... I could do it... I COULD do it...
I braked on time, conceding... conceding that... even with the vast speed advantage the GT-R has over the M3, it was not enough to compensate for the skill advantage Vic has over me. Yes, it was either admitting that a base M3 can hang with an R34 V・spec II Nür, or admit that I'm a shit driver. I am a shit driver.
Does he not know what's ahead? After this slow right, there's a sharp left! If you don't slow down, you'll go right into the ravine! I warned you, you're going too fast! There isn't any more space to slow down!
Nani?!
Kan-
KANZEN NI SHIMATTA!
(He totally screwed up!)
In a freak occurrence, Vic made a mistake! He braked too late!
He recovered it, but he's going slower!
We're side by side! Am I pulling? Am I pulling?! I AM pulling on him!
SAIDO BAI SAIDO DAA~!
What, you want me to TELL you who won after all that fanfare? Are you kidding? See for yourself!
Rest of the photos from Bathurst:
Race 4 was at Dragon Trail Seas- wait, really? You made us fly from Croatia to Italy, out of Europe entirely, and now back to Croatia? Who planned these schedules, and what are they on? We also seemed to have lost Nat somewhere along the line, as well, as we weren't even on the same flight.
I went back to my E46 after being completely emotionally spent from Bathurst, and still reeling from it all. I think I made my point, keeping up with a vastly more skilled Vic. That said, I seem to have opened a Pandora's Box, as the grid now was a lot more varied, with others opting for other cars to compare against the BMW. Vic was in an Evo X, a car that basically has been stagnant and left to die since its inception 2007, but it IS a sports sedan, if only by definition. Being unable to source a comparable Audi sport sedan to pit against the M3 (who can blame the owners?), Nismo decided to go for the next best thing: An Audi R8.
A'ight...
The Evo had ballast dumped onto its passenger seats to match the mass of our E46s, and the R8 had to be downright neutered to match power and mass. Still, both cars are packing AWD, and at least one of them was a proper, bona fide supercar. A steep test for the E46, if not a complete annihilation of.
And then, suddenly, near the end of the parade lap and right before we took our positions on the starting grid, the distinct sounds of sirens could be heard, getting louder and closer. A few of us stopped in curiosity to look, only to see a white A80 Supra running from a gaggle of police cars, each with an officer sitting on the window sills, one hand clutching stacks of crumpled papers and shouting in what I can only assume to be Croatian.
The Supra joins the track after clearing security. The police officers weren't let in, seeing as we had the place booked (okay...?). Over the blaring sirens, we heard a familiar voice exclaim, "I'LL SIGN THE PAPERS LATER, THE RACE IS STARTING!"
...Nat?
The Croatian police members seemed to be motorsports fans, and agreed to hold charges until after the race, in exchange for several bags of popcorn, fizzy drinks, and VIP sky box seats.
Seeing as it was a "new" entrant to our little circle, track officials signaled for the Supra to take pole at the grid... Y'know what? I don't even want to pretend I know what I'm talking about or why things are happening the way they are anymore. I'm just here to race, man.
Can anyone please tell me why the reflection in my side mirror is upside down...?
Where the R34 differs from the M3 however, is of course it has part time AWD, while the M3 is solely rear drive. The turbocharged unit in the R34 displaces less at 2.6 litres, in comparison to the M3's 3.2, and also makes less power than the NA unit in the M3; my car made a measured 340PS the day before the race, 3PS down from the claimed 343PS made by the Beamer. Of course, the biggest difference is that the M3 we have on our hands isn't the coveted GTR; the R34 I'm sitting in, IS a GT-R.
What I didn't tell anyone however, was that, prior to the meet, I had also ran the R34 around Bathurst, after forming initial driving impressions in the E46. The GT-R, in its spiritual stomping grounds, clocked in a 2:32.479 on Comfort Soft tyres, a whopping one and a half seconds faster than the M3 on the equivalent Comfort Softs. As self indulgent and boastful as it no doubt makes me sound, I wasn't at Bathurst for a race; I was there to make a statement: Why can't the M3 be THIS good?
Hey, I spent 86 THOUSAND USD on this car that I don't even like, before taxes! Do you know how hard I worked for that kind of money? Do you not sympathise with my pain and hardship?! I'm ALLOWED to be an butthole every once in a while! The world HAS to understand my pain and give me due reprieve! (Conversion to "Typical BMW Driver" Status: 56% complete.)
Exhibit B: Here we see Nismonath5 in its natural habitat, Bathurst, otherwise known as Mt. Nismorama.
The first lap of four went swimmingly, actually, with me gaining 6 places at the end of just the first lap. Only Vic stood between me and the win, and Vic being Vic and all, wasn't going to let me have it easily. I was still feeling out the limits of the GT-R and getting re-acclimatised with its unique handling characteristics, and so I was taking it easy, braking early, lest I hit someone, which would make for a very ugly mess to try to explain away when driving a wildcard car in a One-Make race, since others won't know how your car performs, and by extension, whether your move was reasonable or not.
Even when driving it at about nine tenths however, my R34 stuck to Vic's M3 like our bumpers had magnets attached to them. Corner after corner, no matter the shape, size, or camber, my R34 stuck to the back of the M3 like we were hitched together. On the straights, there was nothing between the two cars, either. I feel that the M3 has a slight advantage in the straights, as the R34 kept with the M3 sitting in the latter's slipstream, unable to gain anything substantial to make a move (Editor's note: the race was done on game Version 1.60, before 1.61 dropped a day after the race and nerfed the slipstream range).
Once comfortable with the GT-R, I decided to make my move at the start of Lap 3. Alright Vic, it was fun and all, but I'd like my position now if you don't mind.
Thing is, Vic did mind. A lot.
While I slowly came to grips with the GT-R over the first two laps, steadily increasing my pace, Vic on the other hand suddenly flipped a switch and unleashed a tidal wave of speed out of nowhere! It's almost like his car hid a bottle of NOS where no COTW official could find, as he even pulled a gap of almost a second on me on Conrod Straight Lap 3. It wasn't just the straights, either, he began to pull a slight, but noticeable gap on me on corner exits in the technical sections of the track, and I'm supposed to be the one with better corner exit traction! I'm wringing the neck of the GT-R, half drifting, half gripping into corner entries, like its ATTESA AWD system wants me to! I'm shifting the RB26DETT at 8,000rpm, like I should! Right?!
On display here is the GT-R's very weird cornering tendencies, where the front end grips and the rear end slips out on corner entry, only for the ATTESA AWD to straighten the car out on corner exit.
If it means I can catch Vic, I'll... I'll... even drift down Brock's Skyline!
Did... did his car get lighter after burning NOS? Seriously, what are we doing here, Gran Turismo, or Need for Speed?! To quote another racer in a superior yellow sports car getting punked around a mountain by an inferior white sleeper car, "Am I seeing the ghost of a driver who died on this mountain? This is like a bad nightmare I can't wake up from... is my secondary turbine even working?!"
I'm sorry, did I say earlier that Vic wasn't going to let me have it easy? Scratch that; Vic wasn't going to let me have it. FULL STOP.
All seemed to be lost for me, as desperation began to set in, and I began to act on that desperation and stupidity, extending track limits and even grazing walls in my "rental" car. This is my win damnit! This is MY story! This is MY statement! What would I say in my review if I went and lost to a base M3, right here, right now?! It's not even a CSL, not even a GTR!
Next time we race, I'm folding my mirrors in.
The last "A" in "ATTESA" does stand for "All-terrain", does it not?
Ugh! SO CLOSE!
FUCK! I can't do it! This is the EXACT reason why I quit formal racing!
Does he not know what's ahead? After this slow right, there's a sharp left! If you don't slow down, you'll go right into the ravine! I warned you, you're going too fast! There isn't any more space to slow down!
Nani?!
Kan-
KANZEN NI SHIMATTA!
(He totally screwed up!)
In a freak occurrence, Vic made a mistake! He braked too late!
He recovered it, but he's going slower!
We're side by side! Am I pulling? Am I pulling?! I AM pulling on him!
SAIDO BAI SAIDO DAA~!
Rest of the photos from Bathurst:
Drifting in the face of the drifter? Dayum girl! You braaave!
Hang in there Pickle Rick! (gosh why is that name so fun to say?! PICKLE RIIIICK!)
Man I'm thirsty for some reason.
Rob: What are these guys doing...?
*********************************************
I went back to my E46 after being completely emotionally spent from Bathurst, and still reeling from it all. I think I made my point, keeping up with a vastly more skilled Vic. That said, I seem to have opened a Pandora's Box, as the grid now was a lot more varied, with others opting for other cars to compare against the BMW. Vic was in an Evo X, a car that basically has been stagnant and left to die since its inception 2007, but it IS a sports sedan, if only by definition. Being unable to source a comparable Audi sport sedan to pit against the M3 (who can blame the owners?), Nismo decided to go for the next best thing: An Audi R8.
A'ight...
The Evo had ballast dumped onto its passenger seats to match the mass of our E46s, and the R8 had to be downright neutered to match power and mass. Still, both cars are packing AWD, and at least one of them was a proper, bona fide supercar. A steep test for the E46, if not a complete annihilation of.
And then, suddenly, near the end of the parade lap and right before we took our positions on the starting grid, the distinct sounds of sirens could be heard, getting louder and closer. A few of us stopped in curiosity to look, only to see a white A80 Supra running from a gaggle of police cars, each with an officer sitting on the window sills, one hand clutching stacks of crumpled papers and shouting in what I can only assume to be Croatian.
The Supra joins the track after clearing security. The police officers weren't let in, seeing as we had the place booked (okay...?). Over the blaring sirens, we heard a familiar voice exclaim, "I'LL SIGN THE PAPERS LATER, THE RACE IS STARTING!"
...Nat?
The Croatian police members seemed to be motorsports fans, and agreed to hold charges until after the race, in exchange for several bags of popcorn, fizzy drinks, and VIP sky box seats.
Seeing as it was a "new" entrant to our little circle, track officials signaled for the Supra to take pole at the grid... Y'know what? I don't even want to pretend I know what I'm talking about or why things are happening the way they are anymore. I'm just here to race, man.
The Supra looked as factory fresh as my E46 when I got it. It didn't even have a license plate, let alone a livery. With ballast dumped onto the passenger seat of the Supra to match our E46s, and with it mysteriously already being up to temperature, the race was finally able to begin.
...wait, there's a Toyota showroom in Croatia with a preserved, stock, 1997 Supra RZ ready to be stole-
The lights went green as I wondered that.
At launch, the AWD monsters destrolished the mortals among us in RWD cars, as if that needed saying. With them in the lead, we RWD drivers squabbled amongst ourselves for earthly gains.
Hi. This is me. You may be wondering how I've managed to find myself in this situation, in an E46 racing an A80.
This is also me. You may also be wondering how I've found myself racing an E46 against an OH MY GOD IS THAT AN R8?! The answer is of course, GTPlanet Car of the Week, every Tuesday, 10pm CST!
(Editor's note: Why are you advertising the club within the club?)
Man, I'm too old for this shit. You two go riiiight ahead. I had enough drama and tension for two lifetimes, let alone a week.
51K3!
(Editor's note: we think he means "Psych!", but we'll let him have his moment.)
While I spent about a third of the opening lap side by side with Nat. I'm glad that we at least didn't go side by side at the Chicane of Death! (and that she's actually behind me for once...)
Vic, pulling an S660 from last week, slowing down for the entire field to pass him after one lap? You might be giving the Evo X too much credit there, Vic!
A repeat of the savage move I pulled on Nismo two weeks ago in a GT500 NSX, at Seaside Turn 1 (...turn 2?). There was contact against Rob, but I stand by my driving as I was fully alongside, met and stuck to the apex.
HOLY WOW! Look at how close Nismo went to the wall out of the CoD!
A drag race into the Chicane(s) of Death!
Now now Nismo, I'm sure you're a smart, sensible person. I'm sure you're aware that this week is dedicated to the E46 M3, NOT the R8. BACK OFF!
A drag race with Nismo for rights to the racing line into the Chicanes of Death? I've heard the rumours, Nismo. If Initial D has "God Hand" and "God Foot", then you are COTW's "God Limbs", being able to shift sticks faster than anyone else... interesting! I shall see how I fare against someone like you!
SIDE BY SIDE INTO THE CHICANES OF DEATH!
RESPEEEECT!
SIIIIKE!
Meanwhile, Nat's like, "haha car goes vromm vroom".
Tch! Supra ga itsunomani...?! (when did the Supra...?!)
(Editor's note: He starts speaking in broken Japanese when agitated. Not sure why, might ask later idk)
That's... not a pretty sight behind me. Hoo boy.
Is the Bavarian Army even paying me for defending their honour in this war?! Does ANYONE else see what I'm up against?!
Now, Nat. About the papers... and the dents in the Supra.
*********************************************
"I wonder how the RX-7 compares against it..."
Just from that one line, it became too personal. You can wonder that, Nat, but don't for a SECOND think that you'll be the only one driving a Rotary if you do. No way am I allowing myself to not be driving a Rotary if there's one on the grid!
And so, when we arrived at Toukyo for the next race, we had almost all decided on different cars. As the third newest member of COTW, I exercised my seniority and politicked my way into an FD RX-7. MY, FD RX-7. Rob was in my favourite 911, the 993 Carrera RS Club Sport. Nat was inthe "better than the FD RX-7 in every measurable aspect" JDM, the NSX-R, Vic was in his happy, sadistic place, a 930 Turbo, and Nismo went with an Evo IV. Only Racer and Pickle were still in M3s at this point.
This isn't really about the M3 anymore, is it...?
Just from that one line, it became too personal. You can wonder that, Nat, but don't for a SECOND think that you'll be the only one driving a Rotary if you do. No way am I allowing myself to not be driving a Rotary if there's one on the grid!
And so, when we arrived at Toukyo for the next race, we had almost all decided on different cars. As the third newest member of COTW, I exercised my seniority and politicked my way into an FD RX-7. MY, FD RX-7. Rob was in my favourite 911, the 993 Carrera RS Club Sport. Nat was in
This isn't really about the M3 anymore, is it...?
Two of the purest, rawest sports cars to ever be produced. The 90s was truly a time of magic.
Old vs. New!
JACK DANIEL'S DELIVERY COMING THROUGH!
The Vic-est shot I've ever taken: Vic chasing the leader... sideways... in a sadistic widowmaker. You can drop my cheque in my PO box.
THIS is an interesting comparison...
*********************************************
There wasn't a Race 6. Certainly not at Suzuka. Shoot everyone who tells you otherwise; they're lying (seriously, is Suzuka cursed for me or something? Almost every time I race at Suzuka something awful happens to me).
(God's Note: His cat jumped up on his wheel, wanting her bed back. His family members walked across the screen several times trying to console the cat, fighter jets were roaring so loudly over his house he couldn't hear his car, and a lack of practice with the NSX-R in general meant he spun once every two corners. This was his curse for putting not only the signals, but HAZARDS on in a BMW.)
E46:
S1: 24.066/ 0:24.066
S2: 54.951/ 1:19.017
S3: 39.169/ 1:58.186
S4: 35.941/ 2:34.127
Top Speed: 250km/h (~155mph)
R34:
S1: 23.802/ 0:23.802
S2: 54.156/ 1:17.961
S3: 38.953/ 1:56.914
S4: 35.565/ 2:32.479
Top Speed: 247km/h (~153mph)
FD:
S1: 24.117/ 0:24.117
S2: 24.061/ 1:18.178
S3: 38.754/ 1:56.932
S4: 35.449/ 2:32.381
Top Speed: 248km/h (~154mph)
(God's Note: His cat jumped up on his wheel, wanting her bed back. His family members walked across the screen several times trying to console the cat, fighter jets were roaring so loudly over his house he couldn't hear his car, and a lack of practice with the NSX-R in general meant he spun once every two corners. This was his curse for putting not only the signals, but HAZARDS on in a BMW.)
*********************************************
After the week's meet was over, I flew back to Australia for the third time this week. After Vic served me a slice of humble pie so humongous, it could end famine in the world, I began to wonder if I've actually really pushed, and in turn got to know, the M3.
E46:
S1: 24.066/ 0:24.066
S2: 54.951/ 1:19.017
S3: 39.169/ 1:58.186
S4: 35.941/ 2:34.127
Top Speed: 250km/h (~155mph)
R34:
S1: 23.802/ 0:23.802
S2: 54.156/ 1:17.961
S3: 38.953/ 1:56.914
S4: 35.565/ 2:32.479
Top Speed: 247km/h (~153mph)
FD:
S1: 24.117/ 0:24.117
S2: 24.061/ 1:18.178
S3: 38.754/ 1:56.932
S4: 35.449/ 2:32.381
Top Speed: 248km/h (~154mph)
Yes, the M3 still gets served by proper, bona-fide sports cars of its era. But by this point... I don't really care that much anymore if it was 1.5 seconds off a R34 and FD, because by this point, having been through the wringer both in and chasing it, I came to realise that it's good enough. In fact, it's freaking brilliant. Even though the R34 and FD were both faster, the E46 has a level of refinement and rock solid composure that neither Japanese car matches, or even aspires to have.
Yes, the R34 masks its mass shockingly well. It feels like a 1.3 ton (~2866lbs) car despite weighing the same as the E46. Yes, it is much, MUCH easier to drive, not only because of its athleticism, but also because of its AWD system and the impeccable balance built into its suspension system, as per most 90s JDM cars under the gentlemen's agreement.
Yet, I vividly remember that race with Vic right here at Bathurst, braking for Forrest's Elbow. My R34, overloaded from all the weight up front in the steep downhill braking zone from me pushing it a bit too hard, suddenly gave up on me with no warning and smoked the outside front tyre.
Even though I was in a faster car, I caught myself thinking, "The M3 wouldn't let this happen to me. The M3 will cuddle me and hold my hand firmer. It would've let me know when approaching its limits." It's a car that never betrays the trust it builds in its driver, unlike an R34 that makes you feel like a rock star until it gives out completely on you in a heartbeat. The R34 is, as I said before, already a very refined drive, but the M3 one-upped even an AWD car with a well balanced suspension setup with just RWD.
The FD RX-7 is even more of a driver's car than the E46. On a narrow, twisting mountain course with rapidly approaching corners, the FD dances with an agility and grace that the E46 simply cannot dream of. The way the FD balances and rotates right about dead centre of the car, where you sit as the driver, is simply indescribable bliss. You could almost always drive right on the edge of adhesion of all four tyres, and feel, manage, and manipulate each tyre's grip with your wheel and pedals. The truly lightweight car with a perfect 50:50 mass distribution actually feels it unlike the more stability inclined M3. The car was not only agile, but it felt pivoted right between the brake and accelerator pedals, right between your palms. Every action you make as a driver has an equal and proportionate reaction in the car.
However, the FD is only that fun when you're constantly flirting with the limits of the car, or even cheekily exceeding them a little. It almost feels broken if you don't wring it. The E46 I found was a very good drive even at 8 tenths, for example. And while the FD is that much more capable around the twisty stuff, it is every bit as willing to kick you in the nuts and bite your head off if you treat it wrong. It is like a cute, but psycho girlfriend, that demands every bit of attention you have at all times, and is always willing to stab you if you fail to give her what she wants. But holy hell, she drives like nobody else if or when you do appease her. And very much unlike an E46, its temper is only a hair trigger away at seemingly all times. The smallest of mistakes could lead to the biggest of disasters in the FD. And it makes for a very difficult, and intimidating drive.
Breathing a huge sigh of relief once I finally clocked in a lap I'm happy to showcase in the FD, I once again caught myself thinking, "The M3 wouldn't let this happen to me. She would cuddle me and hold my hand and tell me everything's alright and we can get through it together if we just work together."
For weighing 290kg (~639.3lbs) less at 1270kg (~2799.9lbs) kerb, having more front tyre with 235mm sections, and also coming with factory Brembos as a Spirit R while hitting lower speeds than the E46, my FD oddly enough uses almost the same braking points as an E46. It's quite honestly shameful. The FD is also only a five speed, a crying shame as I feel that it always deserved more.
Of course lap times aren't everything. Yet as a 2 door sports sedan, it's very difficult for me to put stock in any credential that isn't a lap time, especially when the on-paper specs are so ridiculously close to something I know and hold in high regard. The E46 M3 has shown me that it is a very different breed of sports car, one that, while not the fastest around a racetrack, is every bit as fun as the forbidden JDM fruits. It's like comparing apples and oranges, in that sense. And you'll probably live longer driving it, too.
The E46 M3 is born at the height of mechanical bliss in cars, right before the digital boom in the car industry. Never again will we have a modest, yet adequately punchy engine with so much finesse engineered into the suspension system, and made such a top priority. Modern cars fight on the spec sheet more than in the real world, resulting in smoking messes that can't even put their power down. And I must admit, I'm guilty of sounding like that crowd that forced manufacturers to turn to making cars that way when I first saw this car.
It really doesn't matter to me any more that the M3 is any worse, or better, than the R34 or FD. It no longer matters to me what it looks like, what colours it comes with, how much it costs, or the stigma around the drivers of cars that bear its badge. This thing is a sports car. A damn good one. This thing is more sports car than most modern cars even aspire to be, and it is a timeless, modern classic for it, just like my FD and my sister's R34. If I had kids, I'd tell them to be quiet and suck one in the back seats; the E46 is that good. People buy these cars for the understated looks and sublime performance, and it is exactly what people buy and revere it for: a sleeper. A sleeping beauty of a sleeper.
Editor's note: would you keep the car you bought, though?
EHHHHHH I mean, as we all know... clearly... verily, I say. Ergo! The manifestation of the existential paradigm is infinitesimally larger than the exponentially evolved humanistic peon; indeed this precept is fundamentally beyond the cognizance of any finite mind. Apples and oranges, you know? Ootsuki Hibiki, or Kururugi Aoi? When you ask, "what car would I buy, or keep", you are fundamentally asking me the equivalent of (Editor's note: redacted to save bandwidth).
(Conversion to "Typical BMW Driver" Status: 100% complete.)
Yes, the R34 masks its mass shockingly well. It feels like a 1.3 ton (~2866lbs) car despite weighing the same as the E46. Yes, it is much, MUCH easier to drive, not only because of its athleticism, but also because of its AWD system and the impeccable balance built into its suspension system, as per most 90s JDM cars under the gentlemen's agreement.
Yet, I vividly remember that race with Vic right here at Bathurst, braking for Forrest's Elbow. My R34, overloaded from all the weight up front in the steep downhill braking zone from me pushing it a bit too hard, suddenly gave up on me with no warning and smoked the outside front tyre.
Even though I was in a faster car, I caught myself thinking, "The M3 wouldn't let this happen to me. The M3 will cuddle me and hold my hand firmer. It would've let me know when approaching its limits." It's a car that never betrays the trust it builds in its driver, unlike an R34 that makes you feel like a rock star until it gives out completely on you in a heartbeat. The R34 is, as I said before, already a very refined drive, but the M3 one-upped even an AWD car with a well balanced suspension setup with just RWD.
The FD RX-7 is even more of a driver's car than the E46. On a narrow, twisting mountain course with rapidly approaching corners, the FD dances with an agility and grace that the E46 simply cannot dream of. The way the FD balances and rotates right about dead centre of the car, where you sit as the driver, is simply indescribable bliss. You could almost always drive right on the edge of adhesion of all four tyres, and feel, manage, and manipulate each tyre's grip with your wheel and pedals. The truly lightweight car with a perfect 50:50 mass distribution actually feels it unlike the more stability inclined M3. The car was not only agile, but it felt pivoted right between the brake and accelerator pedals, right between your palms. Every action you make as a driver has an equal and proportionate reaction in the car.
However, the FD is only that fun when you're constantly flirting with the limits of the car, or even cheekily exceeding them a little. It almost feels broken if you don't wring it. The E46 I found was a very good drive even at 8 tenths, for example. And while the FD is that much more capable around the twisty stuff, it is every bit as willing to kick you in the nuts and bite your head off if you treat it wrong. It is like a cute, but psycho girlfriend, that demands every bit of attention you have at all times, and is always willing to stab you if you fail to give her what she wants. But holy hell, she drives like nobody else if or when you do appease her. And very much unlike an E46, its temper is only a hair trigger away at seemingly all times. The smallest of mistakes could lead to the biggest of disasters in the FD. And it makes for a very difficult, and intimidating drive.
Breathing a huge sigh of relief once I finally clocked in a lap I'm happy to showcase in the FD, I once again caught myself thinking, "The M3 wouldn't let this happen to me. She would cuddle me and hold my hand and tell me everything's alright and we can get through it together if we just work together."
For weighing 290kg (~639.3lbs) less at 1270kg (~2799.9lbs) kerb, having more front tyre with 235mm sections, and also coming with factory Brembos as a Spirit R while hitting lower speeds than the E46, my FD oddly enough uses almost the same braking points as an E46. It's quite honestly shameful. The FD is also only a five speed, a crying shame as I feel that it always deserved more.
Of course lap times aren't everything. Yet as a 2 door sports sedan, it's very difficult for me to put stock in any credential that isn't a lap time, especially when the on-paper specs are so ridiculously close to something I know and hold in high regard. The E46 M3 has shown me that it is a very different breed of sports car, one that, while not the fastest around a racetrack, is every bit as fun as the forbidden JDM fruits. It's like comparing apples and oranges, in that sense. And you'll probably live longer driving it, too.
The E46 M3 is born at the height of mechanical bliss in cars, right before the digital boom in the car industry. Never again will we have a modest, yet adequately punchy engine with so much finesse engineered into the suspension system, and made such a top priority. Modern cars fight on the spec sheet more than in the real world, resulting in smoking messes that can't even put their power down. And I must admit, I'm guilty of sounding like that crowd that forced manufacturers to turn to making cars that way when I first saw this car.
It really doesn't matter to me any more that the M3 is any worse, or better, than the R34 or FD. It no longer matters to me what it looks like, what colours it comes with, how much it costs, or the stigma around the drivers of cars that bear its badge. This thing is a sports car. A damn good one. This thing is more sports car than most modern cars even aspire to be, and it is a timeless, modern classic for it, just like my FD and my sister's R34. If I had kids, I'd tell them to be quiet and suck one in the back seats; the E46 is that good. People buy these cars for the understated looks and sublime performance, and it is exactly what people buy and revere it for: a sleeper. A sleeping beauty of a sleeper.
Editor's note: would you keep the car you bought, though?
EHHHHHH I mean, as we all know... clearly... verily, I say. Ergo! The manifestation of the existential paradigm is infinitesimally larger than the exponentially evolved humanistic peon; indeed this precept is fundamentally beyond the cognizance of any finite mind. Apples and oranges, you know? Ootsuki Hibiki, or Kururugi Aoi? When you ask, "what car would I buy, or keep", you are fundamentally asking me the equivalent of (Editor's note: redacted to save bandwidth).
(Conversion to "Typical BMW Driver" Status: 100% complete.)
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