The Stelvio Pass offers the ideal location for MICHAEL MCALEERto mark the 25th anniversary of BMW's M3
THEY ARE Bavaria’s elite. They are the M Division of engineers who turned a small motorsport arm into a cash cow for the BMW empire, and in the process created a litany of performance cars that adorned many young petrolhead bedrooms for the last four decades.
In particular, one model – the M3 – has become an icon of stealth motoring, a template that its rivals have followed with mixed success. It’s only fitting to mark its 25th anniversary with a few days behind the wheel.
It begins at Mondello, where a gun-metal grey M3 coupé with the new competition pack sits menacingly in the pit lane. Its matt paint finish adds to the allure. We’re forbidden from turning off the stability control, but a lowered suspension and stiffened dampers means I’m not going to be pestered too much by the flickering yellow light of the stability control.
Power output has leapt forward in all performance cars, but the M3 retains a purity that others seem to sacrifice in place of new-technology.
This latest incarnation has the four-litre V8 putting out 414bhp. There’s no questioning the quality of this block and the car’s ability to transfer it onto the tarmac. It’s accompanied by a silky smooth transmission that works its way deftly up and down the range.
While Audi’s RS range may have matched or surpassed it in handling and the Mercedes C63 AMG in raw performance, there remains a regal magic to the M3’s rear-wheel-drive prowess. It has its flaws but it still feels like the purist of the trio.
Three days later, I’m behind an M-badged wheel again but this time it’s a silver convertible and instead of Mondello, what lies ahead, is the Stelvio Pass, and the chance to test the chassis’s natural rear-wheel drive traits without someone policing the use of electronic driver aids.
Regarded as one of the world’s greatest drives, the scenery is breathtaking. The climb up the 2,750 metre on the northern side is impressive, but utterly forgettable once you survey the jaw-dropping southern descent.
The challenge of the Stelvio pass for four-wheelers is that, for all the appeal of its 60 hairpin bends, the zig-zagging road remains a relative boreen with just enough room to overtake as wing mirrors clip against each other.
I initially share the drive with a fellow motoring hack who spent his time at the wheel doing Riverdance in the footwell: left-foot braking, feeding the power and balancing the car on the edge. It’s exhilarating, hair-raising fun.
There is one major problem with the Stelvio Pass however: too many two-wheelers know about its charms. What should be a road devoted to swinging tails on rear-wheel-drive cars, is littered with wheezing cyclists wiggling their spandex-clad backsides for all their worth. There’s also the mix of knee-dropping motorcycle madmen and snail-paced touring bikers admiring the view. Throw in a few blaring M3s and it has all the ingredients to become Italy’s organ donor hotspot. Somehow - and I’m still not sure how - everyone survives.
Whatever about the deep ravens, it’s the unlit warren of tunnels that really makes your heart skip a beat. Mid-tunnel blind bends the width of a single car keeps you on your toes. Meet someone going the other way and it’s a battle of wits to see who reverses back out. Meet someone at speed and it’s a mash of metal.
For all the adrenaline rush, the aural sensation – a mix of throaty M3 engine whine, screeching tyres and cursing cyclists – is just as intoxicating.
As the sun sets on our base camp village of Bormio you can still make out the intermittent throttle blips as men and machines take on the mountain.
During our contintental splurt we got a chance to call in on the modest home of M Division, located in a non-descript industrial estate on the northern outskirts of Munich. In the car park outside the drab grey hangar is a mildly camouflaged 1 Series M coupé, back from a morning’s testing and ahead of its official launch at Detroit.
M Division started out as the motorsport arm for the brand, firmly ensconced in the expenses column of the BMW accounts. It justified the costs under the heading of marketing. However, when required to build a few hundred road-going versions to qualify for racing, they uncovered an insatiable public appetite for BMW racers. The M brand was born.
Today the M Division is a profit centre. Roughly half its revenue comes from its seven cars and the rest from the sale of M Sport Packs. Under its umbrella is the bespoke cars from its Individual range and BMW’s driver training programmes.
The Individual range plays host to the fantasies of the rich and famous. We’re shown Karl Lagerfeld’s bespoke 7-Series from the early 1990s. A stretched cappuccino-coloured tribute to poor taste, it features buttoned leather upholstery and throw cushions in the back, a curtained glass divider between front and rear with video player to entertain rear-seat passengers and built in Kleenex tissue boxes in the door sills. Proof that pimping your ride didn’t begin in on MTV.
WHETHER IT’S individual excess or M sport purity, every model has to make a profit. Even with a team of 350 development engineers in a staff of 500, M Division must prioritise. The decision to opt for M versions of the X5 and X6 seem nonsensical from a purist’s perspective. For example, along with the M3s, I got a chance to drive the X5M and X6M during our trek and found both unwieldy and ultimately pointless once off the autobahn. Yet commercially they filled a void for BMW: performance SUVs may seem like an oxymoron but rivals have made it work in the US and Russian markets.
You get the impression that money and profit and loss accounts play a much bigger part in M Division plans than in its early days.
At the helm of M Division is Albert Biermann, a long-time BMW engineer, whose previous role was as head of the X5 programme. A tall, polite and quietly-spoken German, his desire to protect the M Division’s petrolhead DNA is balanced with a seemingly open mind as to the use of new powertrain technology.
He’s particularly eager for M to have a role in the onset of a greater use for carbon fibre in cars. The weight savings will not only help performance, but also give owners some eco-credibility.
For now the latest M3s with competition packs are fitted with start/stop technology. It’s a token gesture and our weekend drive to Italy was still punctuated by multiple visits to the pumps. That remains the greatest burden on M3 fun. Stretch its legs and you can watch the fuel needle fall.
For M Division to concern itself in the eco-debate may seem anathema to some eco-warriors but it would bring a wealth of engineering experience to bear on the issue. Would it be heresy for such petrolhead purists? Biermann doesn’t think so. Future M3s will still be all about performance and driving fun, but turbochargers and even diesel or electric is likely to be in the mix.
For those of us who grew up drooling over E30 versions with their blistered wheel arches, the message is clear: M Division is there to work their magic on whatever direction motoring decides to go.