2007.01.21 BMW Z4 M-Coupé
I am a fool. And I am eager to be parted from my money. And, to that noble aim, I have largely made up my mind to buy a Porsche. A used Porsche, to be sure, and despite that still just barely obtainable by my foolish finances. Nevertheless, fool though I might be, I am still swayed by notions of instead buying a brand new BMW Z4 M-coupé - complete with the full fiduciary power of warranty and the first four years of service for free.
And there's more to it than that. Because, you see, I have an extremely high regard for BMW. For the last six years of hard driving and commuting, my 1997 BMW 328iS has been an absolute marvel. Its measure of performance and intelligent design has suited me very well indeed. And, perhaps in an odd way, has spoiled a great many other cars for me. For all the razor-keen handling of the Honda S2000, I couldn't long abide the continuous noise of a convertible or the steep power spike of the screaming engine. For all the Nissan 350Z's punch-for-the-price, I couldn't bear to live with the low quality interior materials or form instead of function design attributes. Don't even get me started on how appalling the mighty Corvette seems to me.
I should probably also mention that I'm a surprised fan of the BMW Z4 M-coupé in terms of appearance. For as long as the Z4 has been around, I've had an ongoing love/hate appraisal of its looks. Sitting still before me, or indeed in many pictures, the car looks like its melting. Worse, many of the styling cues look improbable and goofy to a static perspective. However, whenever I've seen them on the road I have been viscerally moved by how impressive and attractive they appear - alive and menacing. With the advent of the coupé, it brought an additional aspect of completeness to the overall form that pleases me greatly. Don't mistake me - I think that these cars are ugly. However, they're a sort of ugly that I like. And, frankly, the closer you look, the better they appear. Few cars manage that.
So it was that I went to Rasmussen, my favourite BMW dealer, to take a Z4 M-coupé for a test drive. However, it turns out that they only have one, and they don't allow anyone to drive it. Instead, they have a nearly identical-performing Z4 M-roadster. Poor me. After the understandable rigmarole, I eventually got to wedge myself behind the wheel.
My first driving impression: embarrassment. I stalled the damn thing right off the bat. Twice. It has a beastly clutch, and I must admit to being initially quite timid with the throttle. In fact, I found it a very difficult car to drive smoothly, but that might have been partially due to the fact that the test route was an unfamiliar set of residential twisties on recently-icy roads peppered with gravel. But, when I did manage to get the groove, it was immensely satisfying. Without any hesitation or qualification: this is the fastest car I've ever driven. It is scary-fast.
I don't mean scary-fast in that it has the ability to terrify passengers while the driver is still perfectly in control and at ease. I don't mean scary-fast in that its limits are probably only discovered once the contributing physics are well into the realm of lethality. And I don't mean scary-fast in the sense that the insurance is going to be hellaciously priced. All of this is true, but what I actually mean is much more ominous.
Sitting in the car, I felt claustrophobic. It's an ironic thing, because it's mostly because of two things I theoretically adore by themselves. The car has an exceptionally well-arranged driving position - low and purposeful. And, the car has a large engine - hell, I'm still not sure how they managed to fit it in. However, the end result of trying to see my probable path over the curve of the prodigious hood made me feel obscured. That sense of not having quite all the view I might like coupled with the starkly tremendous forces at my whim gave me reason to pause. A couple of vicious lunges accelerating at full-throttle and immediately followed by savage threshold braking burned into my brain's physics-lobe just how much care and attention is required to drive this car. To loan this car to my 19-year-old self would be premeditated homicide.
In the day that has passed since the test drive I have managed to soothe down many of my ruffled feathers and have come to believe that I could learn to love driving that car. It was indeed wickedly enjoyable. I have great faith in my machine empathy, and think that the process of learning to master that car would be well worth the sticker price. But, immediately after the test drive, when I got back into Grendel, I was too frightened of the Z4 M's to think I would want one. I was reminded of when I first test drove Grendel and how I instantaneously felt the nearly telepathic link of driving it. Similarly, all the newer BMW's I've been loaned have had the same remarkable ability to be driven well right away by virtue of excellent car-driver communication. Perhaps this sort of communication was hampered with the Z4 M because of how much loftier its abilities were above mine, but the main thing it seem to tell me was, "I'm going to kill you."
Honestly, I found myself briefly considering that if the Porsche turns out to be similarly frightening to me, I might just get one of the cool new BMW 335's instead. It would almost certainly be tamer. Of course, I then needed some time to flagellate myself for such heresy. Still, considering how single-minded I am about the purity and importance of driving experience, it should help convey just how terribly impressive the Z4 M was.
Is. Because it's still sitting there. Not being driven by anyone except the future owner. And I can hear it calling to me. "Please Clayton, let me kill you." And I do find myself wanting to let it try, over and over.