I'm not normally one for delayed gratification, but what does it mean to have a big engine in the days of rocketing petrol prices?
Despite the M3's illuminated rev counter, designed to ensure keen throttle jockeys allow the engine to warm fully before going out to play, the display I'm most interested in at the moment is the MPG counter on the onboard computer. Like the Ford Prefect to my Arthur Dent, it's a fittingly unusual companion given that anyone visiting Earth may think that the petrol pump is the dominant form of life, given how it is continually worshipped and discussed.
In the M3 its role is far more than displaying data, but actively showing you what your driving is doing to your bank balance. Watching the MPG figure drop every few seconds of full throttle puts the relationship between speed and cost into sharp relief. Watching the economy creep up is all the more fuel saved for moments of decadent enjoyment.
Driving economically is one of the few techniques you can enjoy and improve in everyday usage. The abundance of both grip and performance means the M3 is both surefooted and sufficiently quick. Hardly words to make the hairs stand up on the back of your neck, and under normal circumstances it's hugely proficient, if not efficient.
What has surprised me most, aside from the cold gearbox performance and odd noises from the diff when manuvering, is just how normal the M3 feels. It rides firmly but comfortably, it has some nice toys, nice interior... If this car had a 2-litre four-pot motor, I'd be pretty happy.
But it doesn't. It has an inline 3.2 litre 6-cylinder masterpiece. The way the revs build with the induction roar and the power just keeps coming is addictive. I'm looking forward to giving it a proper chance to stretch its legs, and see what the chassis is like with a bit more load. Maybe a trackday is in order!
In somewhat less exciting news, I managed to fit a BMW aux connection before we headed off to the Nürburgring. That’s a simple sentence to write, but to do it I had to remove two pieces of trim (“don’t worry, they just pop off,” and they did), the middle air vents, the nav unit (“Just release the clips” and I didn’t think they ever would), and the entire glove box. Then I had to clear off some of the sound deadening and drill two holes before mounting the plate and reversing the process. Something that would have taken the garage an hour – and one hundred and fifty six of my pounds – ended up taking me four and half hours. I think this is as bad as it got:
I sent it to Marty. I could almost hear his concern several hundred miles away. Fortunately it all went back together and I breathed a sigh of relief. I now have my music and podcasts back to help pass the time. I can’t imagine living with only 6 CDs and a door bin full of tapes these days.