Andy Stonehouse
April 30, 2008

With graduation season approaching, parents who are heeled enough to afford the very best for their youngsters must, at all costs, ignore Buffy or Skip’s requests for a “nice little M3 as a send-off present.”

Those not paying attention may dismiss the requested BMW as a slightly more aerodynamic-looking 3-series, perfect for sending the kids off to college — “a little zippy,” is how I think I heard Skip describe the car.

Don’t go for the sweet talk, parents. The 2008 M3 sedan is perhaps the most relentless non-exotic car I’ve ever driven, capable of feats of heroic automotive endeavor that — well, if I’d gotten one as a graduation gift, I would have lasted a grand total of 15 minutes.

As it was, I barely survived a week of pure, fantastically mischievous motoring adventures that consistently tested the laws of physics, speed and a litany of related Colorado automotive statutes.

Suffice to say that when you cram an almost motorcycle-styled 32-valve 4.0-liter V8 under the hood of the relatively austere 3-series sedan, things get a little weird.
First of all, there’s the exhaust note, which is best described as pornographic in its rooty thrumbling, snorting and braaping, more like a stock car than a fine German automobile. The high-spirited tuning allows the engine to run up to 8,300 rpm, where you’ll max out at a tire-liquifying 414 horsepower. Third gear wheelspin is not hard to achieve.

Grounding that relentless force is an upgraded suspension and anti-lock braking system, a new aluminum chassis and massive compound brakes (with shining discs 14.2 inches in diameter in the front and 13.8 in the rear), plus a very intelligent dynamic stability control system which helps to keep all of that ungodly yank in check.
You can, however, disable the system with the click of a button and engage in … well, what my attorney has suggested I call “despicable and juvenile acts,” such as smoking circles in cul-de-sacs. Who would ever do that?

The downside to all of this automotive excellence, if there is one, is that the M3 is just not that big a car for all of that whallop. Special M-embossed, sport-styled seating features cloth centers for stickiness and leather edges, but felt a bit like oversized kiddie safety seats, contained in the not-exactly huge front cabin. The back seat is relatively spacious, but to achieve full racing position — and believe me, every second you’ll spend in this vehicle is racing time — you need to crank up that front seat, carefully adjust the oversized, leather-covered wheel and tell your passengers to hold the hell on — this is truly a ride that will blow you away.

Discretely rumbly with the first flick of the pushbutton ignition, the engine quickly explodes with an unmatched ferocity (save for other small-bodied screamers such as the new Lexus IS-F or the Mercedes C63). Getting to the electronically limited 155 mph top end takes a little bit of isolated highway but is also very easily achievable. The M3 does not play well with others, or sit on the sidelines. It breaks hearts and causes jaws to drop.

In non-Bonneville Salt Flats mode, the exceptionally stiff chassis, optional 19-inch wheels and rock-solid suspension are unbeatable. They do conspire to impart an equally jostly ride, but this is mostly taken for granted with such a sports-oriented machine. Potholes, manhole covers and gas station tank humps must be carefully avoided.

Special body treatments, such as a bulbous hump on the aluminum hood with a huge, active air intake, quad exhausts, special fascia treatments and those stylistic side vents are subtle but allow aficionados to instantly recognize the trouble ahead; fearsome glowing rings in the daytime running lights are also cool. Most obvious is the almost Ferrari Enzo-inspired lower lip on the air diffuser underneath the front bumper and an aerodynamic spoiler on the trunk lid.

The M3’s interior is, to put it mildly, considerably less exciting than the body treatment, and not much different than a standard 3-series. There are little fancy bits: the 200 mph speedometer, some aluminum trim and a sliding armrest, but the rest is traditional BMW. The iDrive controller still requires seven taps to get to a navigation map; the stereo is easy to use and appropriately loud. However, drive with the radio off for full appreciation of the engine noises and you’ll notice especially loud warning “glings” (BMW’s possibly trademarked warning chimes) and an oddly noisy navigation DVD, audible when parked.

Pure automotive domination is more the name of the game (and, frankly, true purists will go totally crazy and opt for the M5, anyhow, which is great if you have to make it from New York to Los Angeles in 32 hours). Again, I’ve been asked to not go into the details, but all of that stuff you see in both “Tokyo Drift” and “The Road Warrior” is easily attained.

The truly obsessed can also outfit their M3 with MDrive, which allows you to micro-manage the throttle and stability control systems to your complete liking.

So remember: When the kids drop an M3 brochure on your desk and start making the puppy-dog eyes, thank them for all of their hard work in school but suggest that they buy the M3 themselves for a college graduation present. This might be the safest path.