How much evolution can one model stand? In the case of BMW’s M3 the answer seems to be: as much as is necessary to keep beating the Mercedes-Benz 190s in German touring car races and other competitive events.

The latest version of the M3, the Sport Evolution has a bored-out engine, larger wheels and tyres, higher overall hearing, and some minor bodywork and internal changes. It costs £34,500. This is £6,300 over the price of an ‘ordinary’ M3 (which is itself pretty expensive for a left-hand-drive car with a four-cylinder engine). Part of the justification for this is that you are paying for a limited-edition model: only 500 of these Evolution models will be made and the UK allocation is exactly 10% of the total.

An increase in capacity from 2,302 to 2,467cc – achieved by increasing both bore and stroke – has lifted the power peak from 215bhp at 6,750rpm to 238 at 7,000, while torque has risen from 179lbs/ft at 4,600rpm to 177lbs/ft at 4,750rpm. Other engine changes have been in detail only: a lower (10.2:1) compression ratio, and reprogrammed injection and ignition (a Bosch DME system).

The lap of Millbrook we recorded at an average of 147.6mph suggests that BMW’s claim of 154 is achievable on the straight and level, while 0-60mph in 6.2sec is about a tenth of a second off the suggested 0-100kph time of 6.5sec. This is substantially better than the standard M3, which is quick for a normally aspirated car of its engine capacity: 138.3mph and 0-60mph in 7.0sec, by 100mph the Evolution’s advantage has grown to 1.4sec.

Performance in fourth and top gears has lost its edge more than we’d have expected: it’s partly due to the higher overall gearing (22.2mph/1,000rpm instead of 21.3), which simply means that to make rapid program you have to stir the lever around a bit more: but this is after all a racy sort of car, so that must be half of the object of buying it, and anyway the change quality is excellent.

You can sense the extra power from behind the wheel, though the difference is not huge. The quality of the engine has also changed little. It has an appealingly violent quality to it, rather thrashy in the noise it makes up the top end, but remarkably smooth all the way from tick over to the 7,300rpm red line. Even so, you can’t help regretting that the ’small six’ – one of the most pleasant road car engines currently available – apparently cannot be persuaded to accept anything like M3 horsepower without hurling its crankshaft though the casing.

Few road cars handle as well as the M3: in particular, we can think of nothing which beats the purity of response of its assisted rack and pinion steering. The springing and damping are near perfect, and the car’s behavior is near to impeccable in the dry: a touch of power oversteer available in tight bends, but mild, stable understeer in other circumstances. In fact, it’s almost neutral, and the combination of braking ability, grip and traction often gives the potential to out perform considerably more powerful cars in real world conditions.

The only warning note we would sound in relation to the M3 Evolution is the the 225/45 ZR 16 Michelins – excellent though they are on dry surfaces – are less satisfactory when it rains. We’ve tried them before, as optional fittings on a standard M3 (normal wear is 205/55 ZR 15s) and found them to be excessively prone to aquaplaning; the rain also highlights the relatively short wheelbase of the 3-series, especially in faster curves.

In the press blurb, BMW rabbits on about how the new adjustable spoilers provide a “further improvement in roadholding and driving safety”. But of course, not many drivers will take the time out to stop, unpack a screwdriver, and alter the angles of incidence of the front and rear aerofoils when they switch from motor way to country road. The boot wing is rather exaggerated, though it seems quite tame compared with the excresense on Mercedes-Benz’s 190 Evolution.

The covers of the steering wheel and gear lever knob have been turned inside out: while suede is the ideal material if you happen to be wearing racing gloves, it’s not so good for base hands, and the outer source of the cow would be preferable inside the road car.

When you buy a 3-series BMW is it possible to specify extended seat runners to give drivers of above average height enough legroom – it’s about time BMW fitted the extended ones to all 3-series models. No one is fooled by the illusion it gives of almost adequate rear legroom. It’s a pity, because otherwise the front seats would be very comfortable, and the driving position perfect: the new seats (complete with slots for a full racing harness) are very comfortable and supportive.

Now that BMW has proved it can sell left-hand-drive Z1’s to British buyers for nearly £37,000, any comments about value for money (in reference to almost anything) seems redundant, but it seems to us that, apart from the hotter engine, the changes to the M3 in this version are more for the benefit of the BMW’s racing team rather than the buyer. However, the standard M3 is such a great car that the extra performance of this Evolution model – welcome though it is – hardly seems worth a 22% price hike.

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The car came at me over a shallow left-sweeping crest. Reckon it was travelling at about 100mph, which was interesting on account of it being sideways at the time. Wonder how he’s going to handle the fast approaching hairpin? Oh, now that was impressive; a quick right-flick, drift into the turn broadside and then climb back on to the power as the pops and crackles subside. All four wheels jet-spray us with snow and gravel as the car weaves and bounds back into the cool green forest. A moment of glory that is a Lancia Delta Integrale at full cry on the RAC Rally.

No stranger to victory on the RAC, the Integrale delivered six Group A World Rally Championship titles between 1987 and 1992. With the likes of Kankkunen, Auriol and Biasion at the wheel, the tough little Lancia dominated rallying and spawned one of the world’s truly great sporting saloon cars.

And another moment never forgotten. Approaching Goodwood’s scary Madgwick corner at well over 90mph in a red M3 Evolution. Autocar’s then deputy road test editor at the wheel, me riding shotgun. We crest the ridge and the M3’s tail begins a progressive slide. Driver’s seen it coming because the car told him about it. A dusting of opposite lock, and the M3 settles and sets without a trace of bad manners. Balance – and driving – the like of which I’d never seen.

If the Integrale road car was evidence that racing improves the breed, then BMW Motorsport’s fabulous M3 was confirmation. Homologated for international Group A and N competition, the M3 has garnered a huge number of track victories since Roberto Ravaglia became World Touring Car Champion in 1987. The M3 takes an entirely different route, through, eschewing the turbocharger and four-wheel drive of the Integrale; predictably, M3s were thrashed by Integrales on anything other than tarmac. Fair enough, but elsewhere, the M3 proved a fantically capable racer. They have always figured in European championships and in 1988 and M3 took the British Touring Car Championship with Frank Sytner driving. You’ll know something is up when an M3 Evolution – launched in 1988 – fills your frame. The visual cues are dramatic, but they all serve a purpose. The larger rear window is more steeply raked than a standard 3-series, and the SMC-plastic bootlid and spoiler assembly sits 1.6in higher than the standard car’s. That helps airflow over the body and also generates a little downforce to combat aerodynamic lift at very high speeds. The steel wheelarch blisters are there so that a racing M3 can accept rims up to 10in wide.

Things are no less intense under the bonnet. When development started on the M3’s engine in the early ‘80s, it was decided that a ‘six’ would be too heavy for the balance needed for a racing BMW, so a ‘four’ was engineered using BMW’s six-cylinder engine as the starting point. By 1988, the M3’s massively durable 16-valver had evolved into a 220bhp 2302cc powerplant that will happily spin to its 7250rpm rev limit. In short, the power to back up the look.

Advertising its potential even more stridently than the M3, the Delta Integrale packs huge road presence. The bodyshell that is it based on may be 20 years old, but by the time the 16-valve HF Integrale appeared in 1989, its worked-out shape had reached Muscle Beach proportions; along with wider-wheels and tyres, the Integrale gained a swollen bonnet to accommodate the new engine.  And the changes in ‘89 went far beyond the cosmetic, too. As well a 200bhp 16-valve 1995cc turbocharged powerplant in place of the old eight-valver, the Integrale’s four-wheel drive system was retuned so that 53 per cent of the drive was sent to the rear wheels, as opposed to 44 per cent on the previous ‘Grale. That meant sharper response and less understeer on the limit. And stiffer suspension reduced body roll.

We are attracting attention. Spearing along the M27 at a legal pace, we watch as a police cruiser passes, slowing dramatically at the sight of our convoy, sullen faces looking long and hard. An M3 followed closely by an Integrale is plainly a moving violation looking for a place to happen. These two may be 10 years old, but they are still fantastically quick by any standard. An Integrale will reach 60mph in a shade over six seconds, with the BMW behind by a couple of tenths. Top speed for the BMW is just under 150mph with the ‘Grale managing 130mph. But those numbers don’t begin to tell the story; across country on sweeping A-roads and technically challenging B-roads, only a handful of modern cars will stay with this duo. And even fewer will be as entertaining along the way.

The BMW’s door lets out a satisfying, multilayered thunk as it shuts behind me. Massively supportive seats firmly embrace, three-spoke steering wheel offering fine view of tach and speedo, heavily sprung gearlever offering up a dogleg first. The driving position is just about perfect. As the BMW begins to roll, the engine note starts out a bit lumpy, but soon smooths out to a metallic basso. At 400rpm in third the M3 goes very, very hard. At 5000rpm in third, when it feels like it can’t possibly have any revs left, it gives you another 2000. Amazing. Through high-speed corners, the BMW’s balance is uncanny, thoroughly adjustable on the throttle and completely reassuring. The car moves around, communicating, teasing. It’s a precise tool but without being clinical about it.

The Integrale is right there, covering every move the M3 makes. It’s a very different character, though. The Garrett T3 turbo uses a smaller turbine than the eight-valve Integrale for better response, less lag. There isn’t much lag, to be fair, but you still get that ‘turbo movement’ when the engine gets enough puff on to deliver an almighty shove. It’s not a particularly linear response, but while that trait can be pretty frightening in old 911 Turbos, the Integrale is so massively secure that it just isn’t a problem. Through slower corners, you’ll find yourself getting on the power incredibly early and, with that rear torque-bias, a little amusing oversteer is not out of the question. The steering is precise, with even sharper turn-in than the M3, and the Integrale can cover challenging ground at a stunning rate. But while the ‘Grale is demonstrably quicker point-to-point than the M3, it does feel slightly less involving.

Inside, the Integrale’s cabin is more chaotically laid out than the M’s but some of the earlier car’s foibles have been sorted. The tacho’, for example, starts at 3 o’clock so that the wheel rim doesn’t obscure the numbers. And like the M, the ‘Grale’s seats are wonderfully supportive. Which is a good thing because the amount of grip on tap from those 205/50VR15 tyres is simply huge.

The M3 and Integrale were only ever produced by the factory in left-hand drive. Don’t let that put you off; lhd doesn’t get in the way of a truly great driving experience. And with good examples of each going for less than £10,000, they approach affordability. Not bad for a car that will go sideways through a forest at 100mph. Or one that will get you through Madgwick in quite some style.

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The letter M, writ large in chrome and preceded by three diagonal stripes of blue, violet and red. A simple, discreet symbol reserved for BMW’s most potent products. It’s a letter that has graced some memorable driver’s cars, including the mid-engined M1, the four-door M5 and the original, four-cylinder E30 M3. The only M car that was actually a direct product of racing, the M3’s huge abilities and bulging trophy cabinet were the building blocks on which the reputation of all subsequent M-cars has been built.

There’s no knocking the M legend but, since the demise of the four-pot M3, the tricolour stripes have been stuck on some less than satisfying cars. The first six-cylinder E36 M3s were rightly criticised for having poor steering and an unforgiving nature. The later M3 Evo partly addressed these problems but, rather than occupying a place in the all-time greats’ Hall of Fame, it was more likely to be found filling your Managing Director’s parking space. It all seemed to suggest that the M badge had become the property of BMW’s marketing men, not the hallowed Motorsport department. In truth the E36 M3 was probably more suited to BMW’s old CSi tag, but with the M badge having such a strong brand image, the temptation was just too great to resist.

If the original and best M3 had no immediate successor, then the wild M Coupé has the potential to be its spiritual offspring. A development of the M Roadster, the vibrant, violent incarnation of the over-rated Z3, the M Coupé offers the same 321bhp straight-six engine but with the added benefits of increased stiffness, handling precision and even more blistering performance. It’s actually being touted as the most accelerative production BMW ever.

Impressive credentials undoubtedly, but there’s a question that’s been nagging away at us since we placed the M Coupé 8^th out of ten in our recent Car of the year feature. Put simply, is the M Coupé an M-car worthy of the badge?

To find out, we’ve brought it head-to-head, with an original M3, perhaps the purest, most focussed M car of all. Our destination is Spa-Francorchamps, scene of the M3’s finest competition victories in two 24 hour endurance races, and home to one of the greatest motor racing circuits in the world. Better still, when there’s no racing much of the circuit is public road, and those sections that aren’t can still be driven on – if you know the right people.

But first we’ve got to get there. Our first rendezvous point is the Chunnel terminal in Folkestone. Photographer Dom Fraser and I are in evo’s long-term Volvo C70 and as we near the tunnel junction off the M20 we can see two small blobs, one red and the other dark blue, loping along ahead of us. It doesn’t take long to work out which is which. The distended haunches of the M Coupé never fail to shock, and with four stubby tail-pipes jutting from beneath the rear valence and huge chrome alloys filling the silicon-enhanced wheelarches, it’s a crazy sight. Whether it looks good is the sort of debate that will rage forever more. Don’t ask me. I fluctuate wildly between loving and hating it in the same sentence. Let’s just say I’m glad it exists, even though I’m still not quite sure why it exists.

The M3 couldn’t be more different. Based on the boxy E30 saloon bodyshell, it blends into the traffic remarkably well, which is one of the things that endears it to owner Chris Metcalfe (no relation to our beloved leader). The dark hue (Macau blue, in case you’re interested) helps, but whatever the shade you can pretty much guarantee that if you get gawped at driving an M3 you’ve either got Caprice sat in the passenger seat or the gawpers are hardcore petrolheads sussing whether it’s an Evo II, as our car is 2.3litres, 220bhp, 16in alloy, more pronounced front and rear wings, thinner side glass and a lighter bootlid.

It’s the M3’s air purpose rather than pomp that I find reassuring. The Quattro-style boxed arches accommodate race-scale wheels and slicks; the front and rear wings are there to keep you glued through Eau Rouge, and the re-profiled rear windows lies at a shallower angle to regular E30s to tidy the airflow. The whole car is peppered with trick homologation tweaks; mods that add unnecessary work and cost to the road car but build-in the potential to shave vital tenths from a race car’s lap times.

Hailed as one of the best front-engined rear-drive cars of all time, the M3 is a car I’ve always wanted to drive, but until now the chance has eluded me. Once the cars are parked nose-to-tail on the train, I’ve got a scant 35 minutes to decide when and where I want to lose my M3 cherry. If I let enthusiasm get the better of me, and it stands a good chance after reading ten years’ worth of road tests and features, I’ll jump straight in, nose out of Calais and spend the next three hours or so in fifth gear, regretting my impatience while charting a dead-straight line for Belgium. In a rare demonstration of willpower, I plump for the M Coupé, fire up the zingy, crackling engine and fall instantly in love. Damn, I think. This feature’s just got a whole lot more complicated.

We head up the French coast in convoy – smoky, gritty industry to our right, murky English Channel to our left. It’s not the most testing road, but it does give me an excuse to stretch the Coupé’s legs. It might look like a joke to some, but place any doubter in the driver’s seat and the seriousness of the M Coupé’s performance will ensure the laugh sticks in their throat.

Far from insulting you from the acceleration, the Coupé’s long, van-like roof seems to amplify the sensation of speed, the lack of wind noise allowing you to hear the magnificent engine at work. It’s a sensational powerplant. Every one of its 321 rampant horses has a sharp, steely, precision-machines edge to it. In fact few motors deliver such a sustained torrent of power. As if to underline the point, twinkle-toes Harry Metcalfe drove the Coupé to 60mph in a searing 4.3secs at the MIRA test track. In this class, only TVR can provide similar ballistics on a £40k budget.

One thing that does surprise me about the M Coupé is that it’s a frantic cruiser. Sat at around 90mph, there’s a good 4000rpm on the tacho, which makes it a noisy long distance car. Unfortunately, due to the Z3’s dimensions, both the M Roadster and M Coupé are too short to accommodate the M3’s six-speed gearbox. Thus hamstrung, you have to get used to the vocal engine, not to mention the dent in the fuel consumption and the puny range from the 11 gallon tank. Don’t expect to go more than 200 miles between refills.

We’re taking big bites out of France now, but as we slip across the unmannered boarder into Belgium the weather starts to deteriorate. Thin spray whisps up from the M3’s newly fitted Goodyear Eagle F1s. It’s getting colder too, with the ambient temperature hovering around 2 degrees C. The M Coupé feels stable enough, but with well over 300bhp, wide gumball tyres at the back and no traction control, my grip on the steering wheel tightens ever so slightly.

They’re the sort of conditions that make normal people back-off, but after miles of slipstreaming inches from my quadruple tailpipes, an elderly madame finally intimidates me into letting her through. I glance up to see her draught past, hunched over the steering wheel and peering quizzically into the murk, her red Peugeor 106 1.1XN absolutely flat to the boards at 100mph. I have visions of her piling Schumacher-like into the back of the M3, and am mighty relieved when I see both BMW and Volvo dive out of her way.

Mildly deflated at having been comprehensively toasted by an octogenarian grandmother, the rest of the journey passes without incident. Oh, except for the snow. As we close-in on Spa-Francorchamps there’s at least two feet of snow piled at the side of the roads and the pine trees have a distinctly Christmassy look. Bugger.

Spirits rise a little as we realise we’re actually on the road section of the GP circuit, but as we plunge down towards Eau Rouge we can see more snow settling across the famous corner. We head gingerly up the hill and along the straight to Les Combes, the point at which the public road continues straight on and the purpose-built part of the circuit spears to the right. We peel off to the right and notice that the barriers to prevent people like us from sneaking a full lap are open. Well, what would you do? I found it quite comforting to see that just as some blokes never grow out of finding amusement in blowing-off, when you have access to a rear-wheel-drive car, snow and a deserted road, much pratting around tends to ensue. Hell, even Harry starts doing handbrake turns in the Volvo. Only the sight of Chris narrowly avoiding topping and tailing his M3 along the Armco makes us see sense, and so we head to our hotel.

After a comfortable night in the Hotel le Roannay, retreat for Mr B Ecclestone, M Moseley, M Schumacher et al during the GP weekend, we emerge to the pleasing sight of snow rapidly melting. Now, I decide, is the time to drive the M3. Climbing into the left-hand driver’s seat, the immediate impression is of an old car. The dash is shallow, your face close to the windscreen. The driving position is good, though, with firm, supportive seats placing you within perfect reach of the big steering wheel and well-spaced pedals. It’s a five-speed box with a dog-leg first just to keep me on my toes, but it kind of adds to the race-rep feel. The first few miles are easy. The M3 feels small and agile, the controls slick and well-weighted. Crucially, I feel at home, comfortable and, above all, confident.

Photographer Fraser asks us to drive up and down the start/finish straight, me in the M3, Chris in the M Coupé. Once all the fluids are warmed through, it seems right to rev the M3 a bit harder. It feels strong and gutsy, responding cleanly from low revs and pulling sweetly through the mid-range. Of course, it doesn’t feel limp and peaky either. Powering past the pits, working up to 7000rpm in second and third, the M3 really digs deep, though partly because of the hard-working engine note, I don’t expect it to stand a chance against the beefy M Coupé…..

Inevitably the pace picks up until we are wringing every last rev out of our respective steeds. From a standing start I know the M3 is dead meat, but from a slow rolling start in second gear, right the way through the 80 or 90mph the little M3 keeps its nose ahead. And through the M Coupé really starts to charge at the top end, the lighter, keener M3 gets that marginal advantage early on and won’t give it up without a fight or a long straight. Both Chris and I are amazed, and the M3 goes up another notch in our personal esteem.

There’s always a classic moment in any great photo-shoot, and mine comes at a most unexpected moment. I’d like to say it was whilst grappling my way through a 130mph corner, manfully balancing a knife-edge slide with the unflappable control of Michael Schumacher. Actually it’s while waiting patiently in Spa-Francorchamps’ famous Bus Stop chicane. The M Coupé’s long, bulbous bonnet is pointing back down the fast public road section of the GP circuit, against the true racing direction and facing the exit of the heart-stopping Blachimont kink. Chris has somehow managed to wrestle his M3 from my sticky mits and guns it away from our resting place, heading in the direction of Mr Fraser’s Nikon. Instinctively I drop the windows.

The air is cold and crisp. Icy mist hangs in the pine forest lining the road. There’s no other car to be seen and as the bluff, boxy little M3 blats into the middle distance, all I can hear is the fruity, urgent, racerish blare of its four-cylinder engine. By some strange acoustic trick, the noise level remains almost constant while the M3 shrinks to a small blue blob, slices through the curve and on out of sight. Five gearchanges punctuate the sound and I can even heat Chris shuffle on the throttle as he tackles Blanchimont before the noise hardens once more. Put some of it down to the magic of Spa if you like, but that one small soundbite from two days encapsulates the charisma of that unassuming car and its hand-built 2.3 litre, four-cylinder engine. It’s a very special thing, for sure.

A truly great car revels in all condition. Come rain or shine it’s on it. Bang on it. As faithful and progressive on wet Tarmac as it is in dry, still as able to feed you every subtle nuance of available traction, shift of camber and change of road surface. No surprise, then, that the M3 is inspirational in the wet. I don’t think I’ve driven another car that offers so many options in the same corner. You can shift from mild understeer as you peel into the curve, through all-of-a-piece neutrality at the apex to a deft whisker of oversteer as you sight your exit. No unseemly twitches, no unnecessary correction, just fast, fluid and massively satisfying progress. If you do encounter more of the former or latter there’s feel and poise to spare. Consequently you learn to push beyond its initial limits, revelling in its adjustability and progressive nature. If a well dispatched corner doesn’t leave you tingling all over, I suggest you take up knitting.

Contrast this with the M Coupé through the through the same corner and you come straight to the nub of its chassis’ shortcomings. There’s more grip on offer, which is good, and the Coupé can carry more speed, which is even better, but where the M3 is sublime on the limit the M Coupé is snatchy and spiteful.

The steering responds more keenly, sending the long, gill-straked snout darting for the apex more briskly than you expect given the conditions, but there’s less information flowing through the wheel. Consequently you’re not quite sure whether the front tyres have bitten. Steady, manageable understeer is the M Coupé’s preferred angle of attack, but if you find yourself pushing beyond its normal third-of-a-turn of understeer, front-end grip falls away quite sharply. What feel there was fades away too, compounding the problem of defining where the limit is and ultimately leaving you with less options as a driver.

Try and shift the balance mid-corner as you would in the M3 and you’re rewarded with a wicked snap from unwieldy understeer to grabby oversteer. You’d better have your wits about you when it happens too, for the rear tyres’ transition from grip to slip is not for the faint-hearted. True you’re traveling perhaps 10mph faster when it happens, but if this added pace comes at the expense of progression and feel, then perhaps the point has been missed.

There just doesn’t seem to be a happy medium, a sweet spot where you can power your way from gentle understeer to gentle oversteer without having to work at the steering. It’s a slightly different story in the dry, mainly because you are unlikely to stray into the rear tyre’s twilight zone through fast corners. Basically, it’s planted whatever you do. But again, what should a qualify driver’s car be giving you? Lots of grip is all well and good, but if you can’t feel it, take hold of it between your fingers and s-q-u-e-e-z-e it out of the chassis then you’re missing out on one of driving’s great pleasures. Surely it’s better to have a marginally lower but infinitely more malleable limit than one that offers sky-high cornering speeds but low-rise tactility?

Think we’re being too hard on the M Coupé? Then ask yourself this question. If you gain ultimate satisfaction from that delicate turn-in/apex/exit balancing act, does the M Coupé deliver? I say not, but if you derive a similar buzz from the relatively simple pleasures of Velcro grip and lots of grunt, then the M Coupé is an exceptional car. It’s certainly a million miles from being a bad car, it’s just that in this book it’s feel and character that count, the kind of attributes you can only measure with the seat of your pants, not a scientific instrument. The only area where it genuinely does steal a tangible advantage is under braking, the floating discs taken from the six-cylinder M3 ensuring fade-free stopping power of the head-on collision variety all day long. Not that the old M3’s stoppers are weak. They’re progressive, strong and well-matched to the car’s performance, but ten years is an awfully long time, especially when it comes to brake technology.

If the M Coupé truly is the brainchild of BMW M’s engineering arm, and not the crayon-wielding designers or fast buck-making marketers, then this, in my opinion at any rate, is conclusive proof of a collective genius with far too little to do. Perhaps it’s an indictment of motorsport rule makers. Perhaps BMW just can’t be bothered. Whatever the reason, it’s a crying shame these guys should be longer be burning the midnight oil searching for that elusive technical loophole, hand-building engines, homologating front wheelarches with 1mm of additional clearance, fitting solid front wishbone bushes. Dammit, they should be sweating blood creating the ultimate road-going basis for the ultimate racing car, not building sensationally fast but ultimately flawed freaks.

History is the only arbiter in matters like this. Look back and you’ll find the great road cars we put on pedestals are the products of the all-consuming quest for competition success. Quattro, Integrale, Cosworth, original M3; all owe their finesse, tactility and downright desirability to motorsport. Perhaps BMW would do well to remember what M stands for.

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Our Super-Buy subject this month is the car for all who would be World Champion if only some perceptive team manager would give us a tryout. No, it won’t get your ability recognized by Frank Williams or Niki Lauda, but it will give you a road-legal taste of what driving a pure racing car is all about. One short drive in an M3 is sure to leave you either clamouring for more or lusting after a nice, soft S-Class Mercedes – depending on whether you like race-bred powerplants, suspensions uncompromisingly designed to deliver the maximum in cornering power and a driving environment that focuses your attention on the job at hand. Or you’ll find that, in reality, a track-star machine is a little too rough-edged to live with.

The M3 in question is not the current six-cylinder supercar but rather the limited-production homologation special based on the E30 platform, built in limited number and sold here between 1987 and 1993. It was a car built for a particular purpose, and importing it to North America – requiring, as a result, modifications that would satisfy government regulations here while not taking the edge off the power and handling available to European customers – was an act of skill (and bravery) on BMW’s part.

Before we go on with the M3’s history, a note about the dates given is in order. The first US-spec M3s were titled as 1988 models though sold in 1987. The last were leftover 1991 models not titled until 1993. Numbers tell an interesting story: In 1987, 1,113 1988 cars were sold. The next year saw sales of 1,547 ‘88s, 655 ‘89s and 78 ‘90s in 1989, a single ‘87 (where did that come from?), 10 ‘88s, 93 ‘89s, 598 ‘90s and 62 ‘91s in 1990. Ten ‘89s went out dealers’ doors in 1991, along with 123 ‘90s and 251 ‘91s. Twelve additional ‘89s remained to be sold (11 in ‘92 and four in ‘93). During those years, the only major production change was the addition of a driver’s side airbag in 1990.

Those numbers might lead you to conclude that the M3 was a hard sell. It was. The clientele for a machine of that type was as limited then as it would be today, no doubt part of the reason that the latest M3 is not only fast but is civilized as well. For all that, the original M3 must be considered a success, as it drew welcome attention from both press and enthusiasts to BMW’s capabilities.

The M3 came about because BMW wanted to compete in the FIA’s Group A racing class. Eligibility was determined in a number of ways; First, 5,000 examples of the car intended to be raced needed to be built over a 12-month period. Each of the 5,000 had to have all the basic engine hardware racers would use (including block, head, crankshaft and induction system), suspension units had to be attached to stock pick-up points, and larger wheels and tires were allowed but had to fit within stock fenders. Finally, any aerodynamic aids used had to come from the production-line version.

BMW assigned the task of creating this roadable racing car – and its full-strength competition brother – to its Motorsport division. One previous success for Motorsport was the mid-engine M1; another was the turbocharged BMW engine used in Formula One racing. The engineers and fabricators brought the same expertise to the M3.

At heart, the M3 was an E30 two-door fitted with a four-cylinder engine, but the list of changes made was longer than a description of similarities. The Type S14 powerplant was a direct descendant of the M10 F-1 unit, with a stiffer-than-normal block, forged crank, free-flowing four-valve head and suitably strengthened internals. At the bottom a cast-aluminum oil pan, baffled to keep oil flowing to the right places at all times, was bolted on. With race preparation, BMW claimed a maximum safe engine speed of more than 10000 rpm for the S14; using the street version’s 7250-rpm limit was certainly safe.

A five-speed gearbox was installed. European versions had first gear to the left and down, while US models continued with the traditional H-pattern, putting fifth off to the side. Clutch, limited-slip rear axle and brakes were suitably upgraded (the latter taken from the 6 Series cars), and ABS was standard.

Suspension hardware was a mix of standard and special. Front hub carriers were specific M3 parts, as were the lower control arms, made here of aluminum instead of steel. Springs, shocks, anti-roll bars and suspension bushings were all purpose-built M3 items, and the power steering rack was given a faster ratio. Ride height was reduced by an inch or so.

A unique steering wheel and special seats (as good as those found in most racing cars) graced the M3’s cabin, but these were minor changes when compared to the work done on the exterior. From nose back, new panels included the bumper cover/spoiler, all four fenders (dramatically widened), side sill, rear valence and decklid spoiler. A less noticeable but necessary touch born of wind-tunnel tests were plastic C-pillar extensions that disguised the steeper rake of the rear window. The wider BBS alloy wheels didn’t prove much – they or lookalikes could be installed on any BMW – but the other modifications gave the M3 a much more muscular and purposeful look.

Within the first moments of a test drive, it was clear that the M3 didn’t have to get by on looks alone. It was incredibly quick for a normally aspirated 2.3 litre car, had the quick reflexes and flat cornering behaviour of a go-kart, excellent brakes, and was quite simply more fun than anyone who has never driven one would believe.

What it was not was civilized. The engine was noisy and vibratory, needed plenty of revs if speed was desired, resonated in the car’s interior and made a nuisance of itself any time it wasn’t being run as close to flat-out as conditions would allow. “It seduces me despite my better judgment,” one test driver wrote. Another said, “This is a race car, make no mistake; every significant part on it justifies its presence on the racers. When pushed to its limits, it performs like a race car – fast and noisy.”

With those last two adjectives to describe it, there’s little wonder that BMW found customers on this side of the pond to be in short supply. But those who took the plunge and understood what the small BMW was all about got more than they bargained for and, even when the high-for-1989 price ($34, 950, which did include all the go-faster mods plus air condition, leather seats, an electric sunroof, trip computer, electric windows and mirrors, and central locking) is factored in, they must have been pleased with what they got.

A select few people, those who have the mindset described at the head of the story, will find a used M3 equally delightful. At heart it’s a sturdy car, one that will rack up impressive mileage when cared for. It shares in BMW’s reputation for quality assembly, too and an original example will be as nicely finished as any 3, 5, 6 or 7 Series of the era. Which is plenty good.

If a stock M3 isn’t good enough – and I recommend a lot of driving time before making up your mind that it’s not – high performance pieces for the so-called Evolution pieces will add luster to the car’s performance; they’ll also drain even healthy bank accounts in confirmation of the old adage: “How fast do you want to go? How much do you want to go to spend?” A good place to start is the Evolution stroker kit, which brings the engine out of 2.5 litres and can increase output by 35hp. Throttle bodies and cams are also available, with a maximum of 250-265hp possible if you’re willing to hand over $12,000 or so for a major renovation. A more modest gain can be realized by fitting a Motorsport sprocket on the exhaust cam; it won’t increase maximum power (in fact, there will be a slight loss) but makes a noticeable improvement in low-end performance.

On the chassis side, stiffer anti-roll bars, progressive-rate springs, shock absorbers and suspension bushings are all offered by BMW Motorsport and various aftermarket suppliers. These, plus improved (wider and stickier) wheel/tire packages, can make an already phenomenally competent car even better.

Unless you really are a good enough driver to make the esteemed Herr Schumacher think twice about trying to pass you through a corner, I’d suggest you track down a good M3, do nothing more than change tires, and enjoy it exactly the way it is. Refined it ain’t, but fun it is, and you are not likely to find a better playmate for anything like today’s asking prices.

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Progress is a strange animal, not least because it’s such a tough one to measure accurately. I don’t mean in cold, statistical terms – that’s easy. What I’m talking about is real progress, as in Mondeo succeeds Sierra, Omega replaces Carlton progress. The sort that is beyond reasonable questioning, no matter how fine the tooth comb.

Don the starched lab coat and point the microscope at BMW’s new M3, for example, and no matter which way you cut it, this is one car that would appear to have the magic word stamped right through to its very core. So why did we, as a magazine bursting with enthusiasts, find it so hard truly to admire the latest M3, in the way we had so passionately its slower but more memorable predecessor?

The consensus was that despite its incredible point-to-point ability and vastly superior performance, refinement and economy, the 286bhp six-cylinder M3 had sold its soul and gone soft in favour of broader market appeal. And that, in turn, had drained away a fatal amount of the original’s delicious appeal.

But were we missing something? Did the new M2 posses a spectrum of talents so far advanced that they had shot over our heads unnoticed? Or we were right in thinking that BMW had, in metal, administered a death blow to a legend?

We had to know. So we got the current M3 back and put it head to head with the sweetest example of its most immediate predecessor we could find: an Evolution II M3 plucked fresh from BMW GB’s historic fleet with just 5000miles on its clock. And to add a third dimension we got touring car ace and BMW aficionado Steve Soper involved. If he couldn’t help us find the answer, surely no one could.

As the keeper of “about three old M3s and 16 or 17 M5s over the years”, Soper knows a thing or two about M cars and what makes them different from everyday BMWs.

“I used to drive my old M3 from Monaco, where I was living, up to Germany to do a race, and for the first hour or so, up in hills where the roads were all twisty and you could have some fun, it was great. The feedback you got from the car was superb. But three hundred miles later I used to think, what the hell am I doing, why didn’t I fly?”

But wasn’t that the part of the old car’s pull? Because it was noisier than most and you had to concentrate on every mile, two hands on the wheel as it bubbled away between your fingers, you felt special in an old M3. As if every journey had a sense of purpose and occasion behind it.

Not necessarily. The way Soper sees it, which admittedly is very much from a company man’s standpoint (his wages for driving a works MW in the BTCC are rumoured to be between £300,000 and £350,000 a year), the old car’s more aggressive imagine, its spoilers, dog-leg gearbox and quasi-racer feel wasn’t, and still isn’t, something that everyone wants. “You and I might want that because we’re enthusiasts,” he said. “But if you’re 45, married and your wife has to drive the car as well, there’s no question that the new car is less compromised.”

But not everyone is supposed to like genuine M cars, are they? They’re supposed to be different from the herd, and therefore feel a touch removed from the ordinary on the road.

“Yes,” agrees Soper, “but if you’re in the business of selling cars, you’ve got to think more broadly than that.” And so we arrive at the crux of the matter, just like that.

Which is this: the old M3 was a homologation special, a total thoroughbred, and therefore bore about as much resemblance to a regular 3-series, over and under the skin, as a Lada Samara does to a Ferrari F40. So it couldn’t help but feel special. The lastest car, on the other hand, is little more than a top-of-the-range 3-series with a powerful engine and big brakes – a very quick interpretation of a 325i with a few discreet spoilers and a set of funked-over alloys to distance it visually from lesser members of the range.

And so it is when we take the two cars to Goodwood. The old car is slower – not surprising with a 50bhp disadvantage – and fails to deal as successfully with the heart-in-mouth bumps that punctuate at least two of Goodwood’s quicker bends, Madgwick and St. Mary’s. But, just like the Porsche 968 Club Sport in relation to the faster, theoretically more able Toyota Supra at last year’s handling day, the Evo is more fun, more rewarding. And, crucially, is more forgiving of our mistakes when we make them.

In the end, it’s all down to the steering. Without a doubt the new car’s body control and damper tuning are better than the Evo’s at Goodwood. As are its brakes, gear ratios, grip and stability through the fast corners. But its steering – that vital contact seam between fingers and blacktop – is hopeless next to the Evo’s, which bristles with feel and precision whereas the new car’s vague and lifeless.

But for Soper it’s not as simple as that. “Getting into the old car these days feels as if you’ve jumped back a step in time,” he says. “For me there’s too much feedback and not enough technology. It’s like trying to compare the lovely tactility you get with something like a 246 Dino with an F40. You can’t”

But being an enthusiast, is he not keener on the way old cars like the Dino and orginal M3 communicate their intentions more vividly than the new breed of rocketships, which, although faster point to point, simply aren’t as much fun as their predecessors?

“Technology is constantly moving forwards and you have to go with it. The old M3 is more honest, if you like, in that it provides you with a more genuine impression of its capabilities at low speed. But it doesn’t give you the confidence at high speed that the new one does and that’s where the technology comes into it.”

Soper goes on to draw an enlightening analogy: “Everyone wants something different. That’s why I want a red car and you want a blue one and why someone would buy a Lotus 7 and go out on a Sunday with the roof down and the old earmuffs on and I’d think they were raving bonkers.”

Fair enough. But given the increasingly anti-social stigma that surround ultimate speed these days, isn’t the amount of fun you can generate on your way to a destination far more important than the speed with which you get there for a sports car in the ‘90s? In which case, isn’t the old car’s more intimate driver/road relationship not only more appropriate but also more acceptable given that it is nowhere near as quick as the new car?

“It’s true you don’t have to physically drive the new car as much as the old one. But that’s because it does it all for you, which for me is a plus. It’s basically a fun Sunday car, the Evo. And in its day it was bloody good. But, as I said, things move on.

“I remember that as a 20 year old I had a Lotus Elan and I used to think it was the best car I’d ever owned. Really special. But a couple of years ago I was offered an immaculate Elan Sprint to buy, and I thought I’ve got to have this. What a lovely car to have some fun in. And I drove the thing and I couldn’t believe what a load of junk it was. An absolute load of rubbish. Maybe the trouble with new car is that it complements the driver so well, does everything so efficiently, that no one can appreciate exactly what it is capable of.”

Around Goodwood, that’s certainly not the case. Soper – profoundly, nauseatingly impressive at the wheel – does his stuff in both cars and is three and a half seconds a lap quicker in the new car (and in the process slashes a full two seconds from John Lyon’s unofficial 1min 33sec record, set in a Honda NSX in identical conditions a year earlier). But somehow lap times aren’t really what this is all about.

Soper couldn’t bring himself to agree with us, preferring the hushed serenity of the M5 that he trundled away into the rawness of the Evolution M3 that the rest of us marched towards when the day was through. But by then we were certain. Of the two M3s, that were sitting side by side in Goodwood’s paddock at the end of the day – one red, one yellow – only one was genuine article. And it wasn’t yellow.

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Applying performance modifications to new car – legally and cost efficiently – is becoming such a daunting task that the most rational course seems to be cruising the used-car market, European car has espoused this approach for years, and one of our favourite platforms for performance modifications is BMW’s E30-bodied M3.

The two-door sports sedan was first sold in the US as a 1988 model, and though the sedan resembles such kin as the 318i and 325i, the chassis features reinforced components, better brakes and a more aggressive suspension system – as well as an aggressive, racy set of clothes. A detailed look at its BMW Motorsport components underscores the fact this car is a very attractive investment at current market values.

Although this first M3 moved slowly from dealer showrooms, examples are now being sought by hardcore enthusiasts as the basis for serious tuning. A quick scan of the pits during any BMW club driving school reveals many in attendance, some as they came from the factory and others like the two shown on these pages. Good condition M3 can be found for $15,000 or less; the lowest we’ve heard is around $7K, but we’d suspect major problems in cars with such bargain prices.

Two excellent examples of early M3s with “individual” touches are the white 1989 coupe owned by Ren’e Villeneuve and Gary Miller’s immaculate Henna Red 1988 car.

Miller purchased his used M3 in already glittering condition, and though his focus was on personalizing his new acquisition, he vowed to keep it sparkling like a show car.

Mille chose to install 17X18-in. TSW Hockenheim-R one-piece alloy wheels for an improvement in both looks and size of the footprint. Toyo Proves T1 tires were selected because of the favourable reports Miller had read concerning their grip and longevity. A 215/40ZR17 size was selected for all four-corners.

The car’s tall bodywork was lowered via a set of H&R sport springs and Bilstein sport struts and shocks. H&R provides two different combinations of lowering with the same 20 percent rate increase: one in. or .75 in. on the front, and one in. or 1.25 in. on the rear. Miller elected to go with the short springs to get the car closer to the ground for lower center of gravity. A Racing Dynamics upper stress bar was added to minimize chassis flex.

The brakes received a conservative upgrade to Repo Metalmaster pads, along with Power Stop’s cross-drilled rotors – chosen for better cooling of the brakes (E30 M3s have been known to warp rotors on tracks with extreme braking conditions) and for looking good through the larger wheels.

The main complaint against early M3s is their lackluster performance at lower rpm ranges. A moderate power upgrade for Miller’s car began with a BMW Motorsport airbox, fitted with a K&N air-cleaner element and was continued with a Dinan Performance Engineering engine management chip, along with Dinan’s exhaust cam sprocket – both popular with the driving-school ser. Miller reports a satisfying enhancement of the low-end performance of the multi-valve engine.

Subtle, yet effective upgrades to the interior include a MOMO Corsa Steering wheel for better grip and a BMW Motorsport dead pedal for better bracing. Red BMW Motorsport Evolution III harnesses replace the O.E. units and look sensational. The door sills were replaced with Evolution III sill plates to help prevent scuffing when climbing in or out of the car. A final, trick touch is the lighted BMW Motorsport shift knob, which gets quite a workout every time Miller takes his M3 through its paces.

Villeneuve comes from the renowned family of racecar drivers, and not surprisingly, he also loves to race as well as instruct at BMW CCA driving schools. His approach to M3 modifications was similar to his cousin’s recently launched F1 career – a kick-ass attitude and a love of life at the limit. Villeneuve’s attraction to BMWs is apparent from his previous cars, a 318i and a clean Euro 323i, both appropriately slathered with mods.

Villeneuve purchased his M3 in 1990 from a local BMW dealer, discovering the car was a former Skip Barber Driving School car. The car’s past led to a few problems, but the factory warranty covered the items of concern.

Initially, the car had MOMO R3 wheels with Dunlop 215/45ZR17 tires on the front and 245/40ZR17 on the rear. Due to the R3’s offsets, the retaining clip for the brake pads couldn’t be used, so Ren’e switched to 17X18-in. TSW Hockenheim-R wheels, wrapped by 215/45ZR17 Toyo Proxes T1s on all four-corners. Villeneuve observed, “It brought the car closer to its stock handling characteristics….a predictable oversteer.”

Further improvements to Villeneuve’s part time street and part time track car include a Binan computer chip and cam sprocket, along with a Borla T-304 stainless steel, high-performance rear muffler. The Borla unit adds to the M3s breathing efficiency and delivers a healthier sound and improved looks.

The suspension underwent a radial change through a conversion to DTM springs and shocks H&R supplied the expertise, combining the springs (referred to as “M3 Adhesive”) in concert with special Koni dampers. Koni specially constructed the struts and shocks, giving them a 25 percent stiffer rebound value and featuring a 3/4 -in. internal spacer to limit the rebound travel. The H&R springs feature a 315lb rate on the front and a 570lb rate for the rear. Due to the greatly reduced ride height, H&R’s representative stated the stock bump stops on the suspension must also be shortened. All mechanical work on Villeneuve’s car was faithfully performed at Bimmer’s Clinic in Reseda, California. According to Villeneuve, George Kratochwill at Bimmer’s Clinic maintains a very professional facility, and the work is top notch. Much like the current M3, BMW Motorsport gave the E30 improved high-speed stability with its radical aerodynamic modifications. To bring his car up to current standards, Villeneuve had Anaheim Hills Auto Body install a factory M3 Evolution II front spoiler as well as a combination Evolution II and III rear wing. The inner fender lips were rolled for tire clearance, and the front fog lights were removed and replaced by brake ducts from Pegasus Motorsport Products for additional brake cooling. The final brake modification was an upgrade to Power Stop rotors.

According to Villeneuve, this combination of aerodynamics, tires, wheels, and suspension gives the car very predictable handling. Having driven many racecars and hot street cars, he feels it is among the best. “The car exhibits mild understeer when entering a corner and generates a slight, yet controllable and predictable oversteer when powering out of a corner’s apex,” said Villeneuve.

He believes the car is still under-powered, but additional horsepower improvements would require significantly more money. Moreover, the car had been extremely reliable while still delivering great performance on or off the track, and Ren’e wisely has chosen not to mess with the so-far successful performance equation. Villeneuve’s car gets a lot of track time – as many as 15 times a year on road courses such as Willow Springs, Las Vegas, Laguna Seca, Sears Point and Phoenix’s Firebird Raceway.

Even though the Villeneuve and Williams M3s have slightly different setups, they deliver similar results – responsive, free-revving power, a balanced chassis with optimum handling performance and good braking. These are extremely rewarding cars to drive with roots deep in Motorsport, heritage and development.

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An M3? Come on, guys, that’s ancient history, isn’t it? Well, in some ways you’d be correct in saying that about BMW’s little sedan race. But when we started testing tuner M3s – cars supposedly capable of outperforming that factory offering – we discovered something interesting. Mechanically, the tuner cars were no improvement over the stock M3; in fact, not only did they prove less drivable, but they couldn’t match the standard Bavarian’s performance at the track, either. Which made us think the M3 deserves a place in our rapidly growing “Track Test” data base. The M3, old news or not, is so well balanced that it is a benchmark by which other performance cars must be measured.

When BMW set out to compete in the international touring car championships of 1987, they needed a special car. The rules for Group A racers required that manufacturers build within any given 12 month period 5000 cars essentially similar to the racers. To gain a bit of “unfair advantage,” Munich started with the body of their 3-series and created a special production model incorporating a good number of tweaks and subtle modifications useful for racing. In the time-honoured tradition that has prompted carmakers to produce such customer cars as the Plymouth Roadrunner Super Bird, Ford Mustang Boss 429, and Porsche Carrera RS, BMW created a roadgoing “funny car” to allow putting the same tweaks on their racers. The result is the M3, a race car for the road.

The exterior is extensively modified from stock. The fender flares are tastefully done, and look designed in, not just added on afterward to clear wider tires (the rules allow up to 10.0 inch wheels in touring car racing, with no body changes allowed). The entire rear window area has been altered for better aerodynamics on the race track. The bottom edge of the rear glass has been moved back several inches, giving it a steep rake. A composite cap fairs in the glass to the existing body. The trunk lid has been raised by another composite cap which carries the spoiler. Fit and finish are excellent.

In contrast to the rest of the 3-series BMWs sold in the US, which use the inline six, the M3 uses BMW’s venerable iron block four. The iron four has been around for more than two decades. The old block is fitted with a double overhead cam 16-valve head which benefits from the many years BMW has spent in tuning and racing this engine. This is a natural choice for racing, as the newer aluminum engines from Munich are perfectly good for civilian use but were never intended to put out as much as the racers need to be competitive, and are not as structurally rigid. As evidence of the four’s ultimate ability, recall that this humble block was also the basis for BMW’s successful Formula One effort of the early eighties. At nearly 200 horsepower, the M3 engine is probably at the very limit of what a 2.3 litre normally aspirated engine can develop for street use. The tuner cars we tested proved this point emphatically.

While the outside changes are obvious, the changes under the skin are even more extensive. The front suspension pickup points have been subtly altered from those of the stock 3-series. The front hub carriers are also different, for more caster, lending greater stability and better road feel. The ratio of the power steering has been quickened. Lower A-arms are of aluminum rather than steel. Springs, shocks, and bushing have been altered from stock, with rising-rate springs added at the rear. The M3 carries the bigger brakes of BMW’s 635 and 7-series. Power reaches the ground through a 25percent limited slip differential.

Inside, the M3 has excellent, multi-adjustable, highly supportive leather seats with high, firm side bolsters. Along with the Corvette and Porsche 911, these are among the best sports car seats anywhere. The steering wheel is set high, at a steep angle. It offers good grip, with perfectly placed thumb hooks. The instrument panel and controls have that characteristic no-nonsense BMW look and feel that says “this is a driver’s machine.” Instruments, controls, and pedals are all ideally placed. The dead pedal and the placement of gas and brake for heel-and-toe downshifting tell you that this is a car with sporting intentions. The heating/AC controls and the trip computer are clearly, logically labelled. The large glass areas allow good vision to all sides. Rear seating and headroom are adequate. The carpeting and trim pieces fit perfectly.

On the drag strip, the M3 launches best at 4300 to 4500rpm. We measured 0-60mph in 7.38 seconds, and the quarter mile in 15.65 seconds at 90.8 mph. The M3 has very short gearing, as one would expect in a race car. Second gear only reaches to 53mph. It’s tempting to say that car would be quicker with taller gearing, but the shifter feels so good that there probably isn’t much time lost in the extra shift before 60.

We measured a top speed of 139mph (the factory claims 142; close enough). Revs at top speed were 6900rpm, just 100 shy of redline. At that speed, the M3 felt securely planted, no doubt in part due to its racing modifications. The steering conveys a solid, well connected feel at speed. The M3 also retains that typical BMW ability to absorb big bumps while still delivering sharp handling characteristics. On the skidpad, the M3 exhibits very benign handling. We played around with tire pressures. Reducing pressure at the rear (to 38 psi cold all around) reduced understeer and made the car easier to steer with the throttle (it tucked in a little more on lift off) but didn’t affect ultimate cornering levels. The car could be kept on the line with the steering wheel held steady, and steered with just the gas pedal. At the limit, the car understeers gently. We measured average lateral acceleration at 0.81g. This car would do considerably better on the skidpad with more aggressive tires; the Uniroyal Ralleye is not today’s hot set-up. The narrow general-purpose tires may also account for the good but not stellar braking distances; this sort of car with ABS is capable of shorter stops. A sticky 255/50 tire would fit nicely, requiring no changes to the car.

The engine feels rough below 1500 or even 2000rpm, but smooths out above that, although it never approaches the levels of smoothness of BMW’s other engines. It has a growly sound and character, in the best tradition of four cylinder sports cars of a bygone era.

On the road, the car gives a false impression of sluggishness if driven conservatively. If the revs are kept too low, the four cylinder engine and deficit in low-end torque make themselves felt. If never taken out on an empty, twisty road, many drivers would overlook this car’s outstanding sporting character. The engine doesn’t have that strong bottom-end character of an American muscle car; it’s tuned for top end performance. When driven as intended, on a twisting road with the engine never dropping below 4000rpm, everything suddenly falls into place. The engine rockets the car from corner to corner, and the hard pedal of the ABS-assisted brakes lets the driver go into turns deep than he had thought possible.

Many cars feel fine when driven moderately hard, but lose their composure when going above eight or nine-tenths; not the M3. The feeling is one of being in total control even at ten-tenths. In short, the BMW M3 feels like a racing sedan. Which is exactly what it is.

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Scribbled at the end of my notes on the BMW M3 Sport Evolution are some unusually emotive eulogies. ‘Think M3,’ it says here, ‘and you think four-seater Porsche.’ Then there’s this hackneyed observation: ‘A boy-racer for adults.’ As you will gather from such approbation, I rather liked the M3 Sport Evolution, a wonderfully entertaining machine.

When the definitive book entitled Sports Saloons of the 20^th Century is written (it has been? Ah well), BMW deserves a whole chapter, and the M3 Sport Evolution star billing alongside the 2002 Tii, 2002 Turbo, 3.0CSL and others. Worthies have suggested elsewhere that this BMW is an irrational indulgence. It is certainly an indulgence, but it is any more irrational than, say, a Porsche 944 S2 which, at £35,682, is over a grand more than the last variant of the outgoing M3? I think not. There is little to choose between the two on performance, and the BMW also has four seats and a decent boot.

Of the 600 Sport Evolutions that BMW made, a tenth, all left-handed and either red or black, were earmarked for Britain. On the face of it, the upgrading of an ordinary M3 (£28,200) into a Sport Evolution (£34,500 basic) does not justify a £6300 premium. The law of diminishing returns is verging on the silly at this level. What you get for the extra cash, just to recap, are the results of a further workout in BMW M-Sport’s steroidal gymnasium. Extended wheel-arches accommodate 225/45 Michelin MXXs on 7.5J alloys and the car’s squat, road-hugging appearance is enhanced by lowered front suspension and an airdam that is impractically close to the ground.

Front and rear aerodynamic addenda can be adjusted, with patience and tools. No-one who uses this car on British roads is going to fiddle around with downforce, though, so particular go-faster refinement can be dismissed as a homologation ruse.

Not so the uprated engine, bored and stroked to increase its displacement by 165cc to 2467cc. This special M-Sport 16-valve four yields a heady 238bhp, which is 11 percent up on the ordinary 2.3 litre M3. Torque is also better, says BMW, though not by: with 177lb ft at 4750rpm, it is some way short of the S2’s 207lb ft. And it shows.

First (and misleading) impressions are that this car is off the pace. Driven with the usual acclimatising restraint, it is hard to believe the Sport Evolution is capable of clocking the blistering times BMW claims for it – 0.60 in 6.3 seconds, top speed 154mph. The tingly engine lacks the silk-glove delivery of the mainstream straight-six in the 325i, never mind its low-rev boisterousness, pulling without serious vigour in the lower reaches. Muscle flexing starts at 4000rpm, burgeoning power only when the tacho needle has soared beyond 5000. The last 1500rpm – from 5500 to 7000 – are the most telling. Here’s the M3 is scorchingly fast.

Competition ratios you will not find, and more’s the pity. There’s a dispiritingly big gap, for instance, between third and fourth (you notice it most when changing down) that draws attention to the need for closer stacking within the Getrag box. Notchiness mars the action of the short-throw, suede-topped lever, its gat dog-legged to the left, so first is out on a limb, rather than fifth.

You don’t get into an M3 Evolution so much as tug it on. The heavily bolstered bucket seat embraces so intimately, locking hips and thighs into the machinery, you have to push against a massive footrest to wriggle in, all the better to sense the car’s action. You sit low, nicely in command, behind a fixed three-spoke wheel, it’s rim grippily textured with rough suede (don’t think about sweaty summer palms). Pedal play comes naturally, without ankle distortion, and the switchgear is well deployed. Even more than in other BMWs, you sense the Sport Evolution has been honed by serous drivers for kindred spirits.

If the powerful, peaky engine gives the car its racy timbre, it is from the chassis that the press-on enthusiast will derive most tactile pleasure. Why can’t all cars handle like this? The suspension is pretty firm, but the ride is not uncompromisingly hard or jittery with the electronically adjustable dampers (costing £1494 extra) at their normal setting.

The final Evolution is a wonderfully taut, balanced, responsive car. Its assisted steering is not especially sharp, but it is beautifully precise, accurate and communicative. Cornering roll is resisted with iron-fist resolution, just like a competition kart, and the ample rubber does not easily relinquish grip. One corollary of the engine’s modest low-rev torque is that power oversteer is unlikely unless deliberately provoked. Roadholding is tremendous, the car’s composure close to flawless, even though its fat tyres are sometimes prone to mild tramlining, especially under braking.

The great thing about the M3 Sport Evolution is its ability to be most things to most people. It is comfortable, practical (four seats, ample luggage space), civilised (powered windows, decent heating and ventilation, reasonable noise levels), easy to drive (assisted steering, light brakes) and hugely entertaining (all those g-forces). It is also still available.

At the time of writing, BMW (GB) Ltd said it had five cars left of the 60 allocated. Production ceased last December (though the M3 convertible is still being made) and successor has yet been announced. Of all the M3s since the ‘86 launch, the Sport Evolution is dynamically the best.

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The German town of Hockenheim is perfect for comparison tests. In addition to having one of R&T European Editor Paul Frére’s favourite Greek restaurants – essential for discussing the cars after a good day of driving – it also affords access to the freedom of Autobahnen,the beauty of country roads and the majesty of Hockenheimring, a world-class race circuit nestled in the woods.

From Ingolstadt, Munich and Stuttgart we gather an Audi Coupe S2, a BMW M3 Sport Evolution and Mercedes-Benz 190E 2.5-16 Evolution II and lined them up, toe to toe and tire to tire, in and around Hockenheim. There could be no more fitting a place for these three makes to square off than Hockenheim. After all, full-on race versions of the BMW M3, Mercedes 190E 2.50-16 and Audi V8 have been chasing each other around Hockenheimring, Nüburgring and other tracks and street circuits all year in pursuit of the victor’s trophy in the Group A German Touring Car Championship.

Each of the three cars in our test is a sort of hybrid machine, its spirit placed somewhere between that of a road car and that of a race car. Each is significant as it represents the forefront of its maker’s technological abilities, from computerized engine-management systems to aerodynamics. Each is also a limited-production car that may or may not ever see American roads deserving of its talent. And so it was that we traveled to Germany and assembled three of the best and brightest “something-extra” cars that the country has to offer. We poked, prodded, tested and pushed them on a race track, experienced them flat-out on the last public frontier of high-speed driving – the German Autobahn – and enjoyed them on the lovely secondary and tertiary roads in the southern province of Baden-Württemberg.

The spiritual essences of the three cars are, of course, their engines. Motivation of our Teutonic trio is supplied by two normally aspirated dohc 16-valve 2.5 lire 4-cylinder powerplants (in the M-B and BMW) and one turbocharged dohc 20-valve 2.2 litre inline-5 (naturally belonging to the Audi).

The journey that a stock 190E 2.5-16 engine takes on its way to becoming an Evolution II engine is a short but meticulous one. Slight modifications in compression ratio, valve lift and timing, intake porting, combustion chambers, catalytic converters and computer chips combine to contribute more muscle to the Mercedes. At the end of the day, the Evolution II puts out 232bhp DIN and 181lb ft of torque compared with the stock 2.5-16’s 195bhp and 170lb ft of torque, and the tachometer allows 500rpm more reach before redlining at 7700.

As if to match its Group A rival in Stuttgart, BMW bored and stroked the stock M3’s 2.3 litre four into a 2.5, bringing its volume to within a few capfuls of the Mercedes engine. Thus stretched, the new BMW M3 Evolution engine produces 238bhp DIN and 177lb ft of torque.

Comparisons of the 2.5 litre powerplants came naturally to the drivers: “The Mercedes’ engine seems slightly less aggressive than the BMW’s (keeping in mind that the M-B is more than 300lb heavier),” began one entry in the Evo II’s notebook, “but it is exceptionally smooth for a big four right up to its 7700rpm limit.”

Another driver contrasted the two engines this way: “The BMW’s engine, which is not quite as smooth as the Mercedes’, has fair midrange torque and revs beautifully, if loudly, to the upper limits.”

Moving up in piston count, but deceptively down in horsepower is the Audi Coupe S2. Ingolstadt is justifiably proud of the S2’s deep breathing, intercooled 220bhp DIN straight 5, which descended from the Sport Quattro’s 306bhp competition engine. Although it came up about 250cc and a few bhp shy of its 2.5 litre competitors, the S2 engine was far from being the runt of our test litter. You see, if the Audi couldn’t win the horsepower numbers war, its race-bred 2.2 litre turbocharged engine – with ignition program remapped and turbo boost boosted – still approaches that magic 100bhp per litre benchmark. And the S2 engine’s torque characteristics – a significant 228lb ft cranked at an appreciably low 1950rpm – slammed the door on the two Evolution cars.

“I suspect that the Audi’s performance is quite deceptive,” wrote one perceptive editor. “It has the smoothest and torquiest engine, with very good turbo response.”

The Coupe S2 complied with that editor’s impressions by posting a 6.0-second 0 to 60mph time – fully a half-second quicker than the BMW and 0.9 sec more fleet than the Mercedes. The Audi proved itself adept not only as a sprinter, but as a quarter-miler as well, once again besting the competition with a 14.6 sec run.

The power created by each of the 4 wheeled lions in our test was transmitted through a 5 speed manual transmission. The Audi’s shift pattern is the familiar one, but the Mercedes and BMW gearboxes come with a racing shift configuration. First gear is down and to the left and the other four forward gears make up the “H” pattern. The gate for reverse is at the upper left, above 1^st.

And it was in this transmission realm that we discovered one of the few areas where all three cars shuffled their feet.

“The Mercedes’ gearbox is too notchy,” complained one notebook entry. “The M3’s gearbox is quick, but slightly notchy,” said another. Even the S2 couldn’t escape some criticism: “In hard driving, the shifter’s notchiness is magnified. The gearbox has a rubbery feel to it, with imprecise gates.”

Despite our dissatisfaction with the feel and action of the three gearboxes, we agreed that the ratios were well matched with their respective engine.

Because of the exacting nature of much of the driving we were doing, we paid a lot of attention to how well the cars reacted to steering inputs and how well the feedback through the steering wheel was connecting us to the roads. Power-assisted steering systems – rack and pinion on the S2 and the M3, recirculating ball on the Mercedes Evo II – appealed to us in varying degrees, but as a general rule, the surest way of receiving our praise was by not getting in the way of our driving. This is where the Audi Coupe S2 received some of its most stern criticism: “The Audi’s boosted steering is much too light. The boost is speed-sensitive, but the effort remains too light throughout the spectrum. This gives a disconnected feeling to the driver, one step further away from the road than I am comfortable with, especially at higher speeds on sweeping corners.”

The two Evolution cars, on the other hand, were praised for the excellence of their steering feel and turn-in, with the BMW coming out as the favourite: “The M3’s power steering is the best of the group. It is nicely weighted, has good feel and is quick around center.”

Modifying the stock suspension setups of the Mercedes 190E, the Audi Coupe and the BMW M3 for the competition versions of each was anything but a complicated matter of redesigning components or rethinking layouts for the race track. The course of action chosen by all three manufacturers was, instead, a relatively simple one of adding more girth to the cars’ already athletic suspension muscle, spring and sinew.

Throughout the two-year history of its sports-minded Evolution models, Mercedes Benz has generally left the stock 190E 2.5-16 front suspension of modified MacPherson struts, lower A arms, springs shocks, anti-roll bars and hydropneumatic levelling in place.  The primary suspension build-up on both last year’s Evolution I and our Evolution II test car involves a strengthened version of the standard sedan’s multilink rear suspension. And just to even things out, as it were, the Evo II’s suspension system is also equipped with a hydropneumatic self-leveling control system.

Tested and finalized at the Nürburgring, the Audi Coupe S2’s upgraded suspension features stiffer springs and shocks, and thicker anti-roll bars. For added chassis rigidity, a cross-brace has been installed between the front shock towers.

In creating an Evolution model of the M3, BMW has addressed one of our chief reservations about the M3 models currently zooming around in the US,: namely, handling-verus-ride. The “sport suspension tuning” version on the standard M3 (recalibrated springs, shocks, anti-roll bars and bushings at both ends with MacPherson struts and lower A arms in front, semi-trailing arms at the rear) is great for spirited driving, but a tad too stiff for comfortable everyday use. In response to this problem, Munich has endowed the M3 Sport Evolution with EDC (Electronic Damping Control), BMW’s version of cockpit adjustable shocks. Just select your current mood from the rotary dial on the center console – Comfort, Normal or Sport – and you’re off, ready for sport or pleasure, a point not missed by at least one driver: “The adjustable suspension on the BMW transforms it. I don’t like the M3 we have in the US, but this car is really different, much better. And the adjustable suspension has a lot to do with it. The Normal setting is best, with just a little body roll and still a lot of handling.”

Other editors were even more effusive in their praise of the BMW’s sportiness, “The tires grip is like spikes, and the chassis is well-high impossible to upset. The M3’s stability, handling and road feel remind me more of a race car than of a street car set up for extra-urban activities. The Mercedes, on the other hand, feels like a luxury sedan resisting the transformation from street car to track car.”

Drivers who preferred the Mercedes appreciated its ride/handling balance and its tendency to be less temperamental than the BMW: “Drop-throttle tuck-in is just right for an average driver and sufficient for an expert. The BMW has more luck, which makes it better for an expert driver.”

Although there isn’t any mention of Audi’s full-time all-wheel-drive system in the proper name of the Coupe S2, the car is definitely a Quattro, with all of the best and worst traits that go along with that.

The first entry in the Quattro’s credit column is the extra stability and peace of mind that come with having four wheels pulling for you instead of just two. The Quattro system features a Torsen center differential and a rear differential that can be locked manually from inside the car by pressing a button.

The S2’s Quattro edge was instrumental in enabling it to keep up with the BMW and Mercedes on snakey, twisting roads, the awd making up for the rear wheel drive cars’ advantage in rubber: The Audi gave pursuit on 205/55ZR-16 tires, while the BMW rode on 225/45ZR-16s, and the M-B was hoofing on 17-in. wheels shod with 245/40ZR-17 tires.

So what price does the Audi Coupe S2 have to pay for its four footed stability? Well, all-wheel drive cars from the Subaru Justy to the Porsche 911 Carrera 4, understeer and the S2 is no exception. “Although the Coupe S2 is very forgiving and easy to drive at speed (it has a fair amount of body roll), it understeers – almost to the point of being frustrating at times,” lamented one of the editors.

The added weight of the Quattro system aggravated the condition, and the Audi ended up behind the BMW and Mercedes (which exhibited better balance and more poise) in high-speed transitional maneuvers like our slalom testing.

As far as top-speed runs go, we managed to find a few rare miles of Autobahn that weren’t overcrowded, so we were able to stretch the cars’ legs a bit. Our three coursers were all so smooth and tracked so steadily at their preset limits – 154mph for the Audi, BMW and the Mercedes (manufacturers in Germany have agreed upon a limited top speed of about 1555mph for their sedans) – that it almost made the thrill of speed without legal limits seem common. The kick was in how each car got there: the Coupe S2’s turbo whining and reaching out for more power, the Evolution II’s engine building toward a peak as the revs increased; and the M3 Sport Evolution’s engine pulling relentlessly up through its wide powerband.

Braking is a crucial aspect for cars of this caliber, so it pleases us to report that the stopping characteristics of all three competitors were excellent. The Mercedes and BMW (both sporting beefier disc brakes than their non-race-ordained counterparts) were nearly parallel performers, while the Audi had to give up a few feet to its lighter rivals. ABS, fitted to all three cars, takes the variable of driver skill out of the equation for quick stops. Only the Audi, however, offers the added option of an ABS override button for drivers who like to take threshold braking into their own hands.

Our notebook contained laudatory remarks for the braking of all three cars, but it was track driving that really allowed us to test the mettle of the cars’ braking system: “The Audi’s brakes got a bit spongy after a track session with some fairly hard braking.”

“The Mercedes’ brakes are excellent; I experienced no fade after 20 consecutive fast laps on Hockenheim’s short circuit.”

As any peacock will tell you, being voted top bird in the aviary isn’t everything – how you show off your feathers counts for a lot. By the same token, the Mercedes-Benz 190E 2.5-16 Evolution II didn’t garner any winning votes in the performance category. But it attracted more attention than the other two “birds” combined. Being a 4-door sedan had a little to do with it: The Evo II is slightly longer, wider and lower than either the 2-door BMW or the Audi Coupe. But what really pushes the Mercedes over the top as far as looks go is its sensational, trunk-mounted rear spoiler. No other aerodynamic piece on the car can even approach it. The snarling fender blisters, adjustable front air dam and aero rear bumper play functional second fiddle to the most outrageous wing since the Plymouth Superbird.

The BMW’s adjustable rear wing looks half-hearted by comparison. Munich lowered the M3’s nose by about a half-inch while creating the Sport Evolution, and it flared the fenders even more to accommodate the SE’s wider-than-stock-M3 tires. But the BMW is still no match for the Mercedes in the double-take department, although most of us agreed that the overall appearance of the BMW was more integrated and less tacked-on-looking than its Evolution counterpart from Stuttgart.

Then again, it’s hard to argue with the M-B’s 0.30 coefficient of drag (the BMW’s is 0.35). A ride-height adjustment switch, located on the dash, allows the Mercedes to hunker even closer to the ground for a little extra aerodynamic advantage.

Another important part of the Evolution II’s air management is an opaque plastic deflector fitted over the upper portion of the rear window. This piece was a constant source of complaints because it reduced the driver’s rearward vision dramatically. We understand that we are not alone in our frustration with the deflector because at least one M-B project engineer has cut out a large section from it on his personal Evolution II.

The Audi Coupe S2 is distinguished from other Audi Coupes principally by its new front-end treatment (based on the V8 model), special 5-spoke alloy wheels and S2 badges placed front and rear.

One would be hard pressed to find a better mix of sporting-yet-comfortable interiors than in these three cars. The Audi was generally looked upon as the comfort leader and the BMW as the race driver’s choice, but all three basted snug, supportive seats, grippy steering wheels and big, readable gauges.

The Mercedes’ interior characterized by the feeling of businesslike austerity that German cars are known for. That isn’t a complaint, just an observation. One editor, in fact, could have stood with a little less opulence in favour of lightening the car’s load: “Comfort is quite acceptable for a car in which handling is a priority,” he noted, “although I would prefer a car not so burdened with weighty gimmicks such as air conditioning and electric windows.”

Such restraint was shown in the BMW, which, while it did have air conditioning, had manual-crank windows. There is an air of race readiness about the M3 Sport Evolution’s cockpit. The tactile sensation of the steering wheel wrapped in brushed black leather is enough to get one itching to do hot laps. The distinctive BMW Motorsport blue and red, stitched into the upholstery of the M3’s superb seats, adds to the effect.

In the Audi, the stitching says “Quattro,” and the seats are just as nice. Our Coupe S2’s seats were done up in a green fabric that was designed to complement the lush, deep green color of the car’s exterior paint. The Audi’s elevated comfort level was noted by all. Its light gray faced gauges made an impression on us as well, earning praise from some, while others thought they looked gimmicky.

Our final tally found the editors evenly divided between the BMW M3 Sport Evolution and the Audi Coupe S2 as the sports car of preference.

“I was astonished that the Audi was my choice as the winner among the three cars,” confessed one driver. “I liked it best because of the all wheel drive, and I thought it was the best all-around car. It would be a great skier’s car, for instance, and it’s easy to drive every day as well. If I had to buy one car from the bunch, it would be the Audi.”

“For me, the M3 Sport Evolution is the easiest to drive of the three cars in this test,” responded a second editor. “Whether I was running it around Hockenheimring, tooling through the city, or opening it up on the Autobahn, the BMW felt right at home. With just enough gear selected, the power rolls on beautifully, and the engine pulls like a demon.”

A third editor put the debate into perspective by saying. “The Audi is the most civilized of the trio, but the M3 is the greatest fun of the group.”

And the Mercedes-Benz 190E 2.5-16 Evolution II – still a knockout performer – got stuck somewhere in the middle, playing bridesmaid to one car that was a better road automobile and to another that was a better Evolution.

The gap between the Mercedes and the other two cars is widened even further when price is taken into consideration. At $72,960, the Evolution II is easily the most expensive car in the group, followed by the M3 Sport Evolution at $56,700. The quick and comfy Coupe S2 stands out as the bargain of the field tagged at $45,700. True, the Audi is a bit less exclusive than the other two contenders – Mercedes is only building 500 Evo IIs (and all are spoken for). BMW is drawing the line at about 600 Sport Evolution M3s – but it also has the best chance of finding its way to North America.

Until then, we can take comfort in our memories of the race track in the woods, Baden-Württemberg’s back roads, the fleeting wonder of the Autobahnen and the excellence displayed by our three favourite traveling companions.

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So it’s farewell, then M3. BMW’s punchy little four-cylinder road-racer bows out after four and a half years, a victim not so much of the recent model change, claims MW, as of uncertainty over future Group A motor racing rules; will the formula be for two-litre or 2.5 litre engines, and should BMW respond to this with a four or a six?

Clearly, the answer to this is that a four would make a more effective race engine, but a six is a lot nicer for the road. If life were more simple, the argument could be based around these two facts, but it isn’t, so it can’t be. What is certain is that while the ‘normal’ two-door versions of the old 3-series, as well as the Calbrio and Touring, continue in production until the summer, the M3 is knocked on the head.

So the exciting little coupé become an instant classic, or it would do if we were not in our present position in the economic cycle, to quote the Prime Minister’s tidy cuphemism. You can pick up a decent, low-mileage M3 for a very enticing price these days.

Attractive thought his proposition may be, it would be much nicer to have one of the rarer Evolution models, which go significantly faster. They also cost quite a lot more, and you may remember that our verdict on the Sports Evolution was that it was a fine car “but hardly worth a 22 percent price hike.” This is the cue for the Hartge M3-260; you buy a used M3, go to Birds UK, the Hartge agents, and pay £5068 for a high-performance engine conversion. You then have an M3 with Evolution performance but at considerably lower cost. Our test car’s alterations were carried considerably further than this, not least by moving the driver’s seat from left to right, but also with work on the suspension, wheels and tyres, and interior. This brings the conversion cost up to £16,372 (including taxes).

That is quite a lot of money, but the price of the engine conversion is simply justified by the straight line. The Evolution we tested, in less turbulent air, was 2mph faster, and the standard car 7mph slower.

Hartge’s claim is for peak torque of 218lb ft at 5,000rpm. The bad news is that nothing much happens below about 2,000rpm in the top two gears, and this is borne out by the figures. But the good news is that – unlike the Evolution – the Hartge has a significant advantage over the standard M3 when it has climbed on to its cam – and it can spin all the way to 7,700rpm without coming to harm.

If you’re a lazy driver who likes to slog around in top gear once you’re over 200mph, the standard M3 will provide better acceleration all the way to 100mph, and it is only from about 80mph onwards that the other two cars begin to get moving seriously. But if you drive like that, why do you want an M3?

The Hartge engine is much like the Evolution’s in its character and in the noises it makes. It’s a bit coarse, pretty noisy, but highly effective, and actually a good deal smoother than it sounds.

To achieve all this, the engine modifications are substantial: only the standard block and cylinder head are retained, and all major moving parts are replaced, including a new forged crankshaft with eight balance weights and a vibrations damper. The bore is increased from 93 to 94mm and the stroke from 84 to 93mm. New camshafts incorporate wide valve overlap, the valves themselves are gas-flowed, and the exhaust system is all new.

Hartge’s favoured tyres for this car are Yokohamas (the omni-directional type, not the ‘semislick’ 008s), 235/45s on massive 17in diameter rims, 7.5J at the front and 8.5J at the rear. However, these were not available at the time of our test, so instead  it ran on Pirelli P700s of the same size.

Standard tyre size is 205/55 VR 15, and I’d be happier with that as an everyday compromise, even without taking into account the saving of £3,214 for the distinctive three-piece rims and tyres; with this less muscular-looking set-up, perhaps you do not get so much outright grip in the dry, but it is a more comfortable car to be in when the weather turns nasty, especially if there’s any standing water. However, I am sure I’ll be in the minority in this, because there is undoubtedly more posing value in the car when it is sitting on those gumball arch-fillers.

A further saving would be the Hartge/Bilstein sports suspension, as you’d not want that without the larger tyres. This consists of lowering the ride height all round by 25mm, fitting rising rate springs and gas-filled dampers. However, I found this firm but never jarring, and much better suited to British roads than some Hartge conversions have been before essential softening has been carried out by Birds.

Our test car, in case it might be used for circuit driving, was also fitted with Group N discs; wisely. Birds does not recommend this for normal road use, and the standard system, powerful enough for most purposes and very progressive, would be preferable.

Some potential purchasers of the M3 in Britain have been put off in the past by BMW’s refusal to build a right-hand drive version, which would not be cost-effective for such a low-volume model. However, as you can see from the photograph, the M3-260 we drive here has been converted (an operation for which Birds charges £4,790). It’s certainly a highly professional job, because you can’t ‘see the join’, and the only occasion on which we noticed any squeaks was in the tight, banked bend at the end of Millbrook’s acceleration straight, where stresses are applied which would not be experienced in normal driving conditions on the road.

Though we wouldn’t spend our money on some of the changes wrought to our test car, we unhesitatingly recommend this engine conversion; it delivers Evolution performance at a reasonable cost and with no penalty in refinement or fuel consumption (we average 20.4mph overall).

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