BMW M3 CSL 2004 Review

Forget it. They're all gone. Only 23 very lucky Australians will ever know what it's like to drive the BMW M3 CSL. Oh, and me, for one fleetingly perfect afternoon at Phillip Island; faster every lap, braking deeper, powering out earlier and pushing ever harder in an endless quest for bigger numbers on the dial and smaller numbers on the clock.

The gun-metal grey CSL shimmered into view at the start of Phillip Island's main straight, its highly-strung straight-six in full voice. We'd watched two 'stock' M3s go past moments earlier, and the CSL sounded nothing, absolutely nothing, like they did. The fury and intensity of its metallic howl, enhanced by a second air-intake large enough to swallow a football, shamed a normal M3 for volume and aggression, and was drowned out moments later by wind-and exhaust-roar as it ripped past our trackside vantage point. Then it dropped from view as Phillip Island disappeared into the sea.

Anticipation has been building ever since I'd first seen the concept at the Frankfurt motor show in September 2002. The BMW M3 is, without exception, my lottery car -- win the lotto and straight to the dealership, Laguna Seca Blue thanks, six-speed manual, take away, hurry up man. We've been addicted to the M3's brutally efficient front-engine, rear-drive sports-coupe mantra ever since our first meeting in 1995.

The BMW M3 was the first road car I cracked 250km/h in. It was the first car to teach me what true sports-car balance is, where neither the chassis nor the straight-six cylinder engine held dominion; instead a carefully crafted truce prevailed, ensuring the driver won every time. It was also the first car to take the sting out of drifting and sliding thanks in combination to its sublimely conversant chassis, millisecond-quick throttle response and inch perfect steering.

Naively, I thought it would be impossible to improve on perfection. Then BMW lifted the bar with the current M3 in 2001, proving that some things are more perfect than others. And now the bloody Germans have done it again, modifying, caressing, and finessing to produce an awesomely competent road-car, one capable of delivering 11 out of 10.

Anticipation and nerves combine, forming a large writhing lump of anxiety in my stomach. Nerves attack as I approach; I'm only asking for one dance... She sits there; grey beast on grey asphalt, idle yet full of tension, like a lion before the pounce. Slide into the heavily bolstered sports seat and slot the standard lap-sash belt home, my hands immediately search for a backrest adjust; this is one very upright captain's chair. Nothing. Adjust the steering wheel to suit, I'm still more upright than I like, but not uncomfortably so. The strange rubber coating on the wheel feels like you're tapped directly into the big Michelins out front. Intimate. Exciting. Anxious. The standard M3 in front leads out of Phillip Island's pit lane and over the horizon. We follow.

Outwardly you could easily miss the CSL, which carries the M3's reputation for understated physical aggression almost to a fault. Look closely and the big 19inch rims will give away this car's hyped-up intent, as well the deeper chin spoiler, subtly curved rear decklid spoiler on the lightweight compound bootlid and low, ground-hugging side skirts. Skirts that work, not skirts for looks. The chin spoiler at the front features two flaps hidden under its leading edge, which reduce frontal lift by more than 50 per cent compared to the standard M3.

Check out the roof: it's a carbon fibre replacement for the old steel one. Two aims, one solution. Reduce overall weight and lower the car's centre of gravity. Dropping 6kg in weight from the highest point in the car improves both.

Take a closer look at the tyres; high performance 19inch Michelin Pilot Sport Cup -- 235/35R19 front and wider, lower profile 265/30R19 on the rear -- developed especially for the CSL. But don't worry about their wet road performance; you're required to fit specific rain tyres in wet weather or void the factory warranty.

The first lap is just like the first dance as we make acquaintances, working slowly into the relationship, testing each other, feeling each other out. The lead M3 sets a quickish warm-up pace, nothing garish, nothing troublesome. Still, Honda hairpin and a big bootful brings a lurid slide, a lunatic smile... and a stern reproach from our minder in the car ahead. "Keep it neat kids", said the vaguely familiar voice in the walkie talkie. We tuck our tail back in and set to, four car-lengths off the M3, throttling on earlier out of Siberia, trying to feel the edge of adhesion, trying to discover the CSL's limits. Round the Hayshed and over Lukey Heights, purposely applying what should have been too much lock to the CSL's faster steering. It wasn't; the CSL tightens its line without fuss, obviously asking if we're ready to up the tempo. To get serious. Or are we just toying with it...

CSL, if you haven't figured it out yet, stands for Coupe, Sports, Lightweight. It's more than a distinguishing badge; it's a philosophy that dictates both sides of the equation must be improved to truly boost performance. BMW calls this the 110 per cent M3, because it's 10 per cent more powerful and 10 per cent lighter. Almost. The standard M3's 3.2-litre straight six-cylinder engine, mounted longitudinally in the engine bay, was already one of the world's great engines. It's an all alloy engine, which employs variable valve timing and lightweight engine parts with near zero manufacturing tolerances to belt out 252 of the hardest working kilowatts in production.

Engine enhancements are subtle, but telling. A lightweight carbon fibre air-collector attached to the CSL's massive air-intake dictates Formula One levels of air-to-fuel mixing, which in turn allows longer intake and exhaust valve opening periods. Modifications to the exhaust manifold were aimed at reducing weight and improving the flow of this increased air volume. The result is 13 more kilowatts, 5Nm more torque (now 265kW and 370Nm), and ten times the engine aggression. Couple that with a weight saving of 110kg, and you're looking at a car whose power-to-weight ratio drops from 5.9kg/kW to 5.2kg/hp. Is 12 per cent better worth 40 per cent more? Who cares, they're all sold -- every last one -- for $210,000 before they'd even set foot on Terra Australis.

Typical of BMW's M philosophy, the CSL is all about performance through technical supremacy. No forced induction via supercharger, nor lightweight dual turbochargers in the exhaust tracts; this is a purist's engine with one of the best naturally aspirated specific power outputs; 81.6kW per litre. Compare that to the 5.7-litre lump of metal in the 300kW HSV GTS, which can only manage 52.6kW per litre.

The big benefit with natural aspiration is engine response and low-end torque, which is important for everyday driving, but next to useless in racetrack conditions -- the CSL's 8000rpm rev ceiling, and the fact it drops around 3000rpm with each gear-change, means engine characteristics below 4000rpm were never explored in our short love affair.

The lead M3 opens a gap coming around the last two long left-handers and onto the straight. The exit is blind and we're overcautious on this first lap out. Straighten up and fly, right! The throttle bangs against the stop, the CSL doesn't leap forward so much as build intensity. Mechanised, maniacal thunder roils and boils along the straight. The M3's velocity advantage is whittled away and before we cross the start line we're reeling it in. Over the edge of the world we fly, closing easily on the lead car, the rate of acceleration barely acknowledging another quick gearchange. The track angles down on the approach to Doohan corner, a fast, sweeping right-hander that tolerates no time wasters. Determination and concentration is the entry fee; if you can't pay, your day's likely to end in a 180km/h spin, or worse...

All 23 CSLs coming to Australia will be fitted with the second generation SMG sequential manual gearbox, complete with steering-wheel mounted paddles. It's a system which has its detractors, though I'm not one. The argument seems to be one of necessity; the M3's six-speed manual does everything we need, so why ruin it with this new-fangled gearbox? Did anyone say that to Edison when he was toying with a contraption called a light bulb? "Nah mate, candles are bloody 'brill' for providing light, who could ask for more..."

It's essentially a manual gearbox with an electronically controlled clutch that's triggered when you hit the stubby gearchange lever. A toggle-switch behind the lever allows the driver to dial up the 'aggression' of the gearchange from 'around town' smooth to 'full noise' fast. The system feels more jerky than a manual, but I reckon it's also faster, and definitely smoother on downchanges; it automatically blips the electronic throttle to match revs between gears. Heel and toeing in a conventional manual is good, it's fun, but so is only having to deal with two pedals, which brings left foot braking into the equation. Aah, but that's a whole 'nother argument.

The interior is Spartan at best, downright criminal at worst. A $210,000-plus ORC car with no driver's seat adjust for height or backrest rake? Oh, it slides closer to the steering wheel, a wheel that does tilt and telescope, but the backrest angle is non-adjustable. Why, because the M3 seats have been replaced by full racing buckets; we're talking serious side sculpting here, and every inch of driver support is warranted when the CSL's on the fly.

Swooping out of the turn like a Hawk on a mouth-wateringly juicy partridge, we briefly accelerate hard before hitting the brakes and drop two gears, tipping into the long, tightening Southern Loop. Midway through the corner it crests and sharpens, dictating a very late apex and a sweeping attack on the exit. Squeeze on more lock, add a dash of throttle and the front-end grips like a Rotty with lockjaw. Mid-corner, we're reeling in the standard M3 fast, very fast. Faster than should be possible. But, the M3 is the ultimate sports coupe... Or it was. We lift off as the gap narrows. Too close... Again the CSL questions our commitment, this time with a seductive little wag of its tail. Call its bluff and back on throttle as the gap widens and the corner opens out. The CSL responds instantly, tucking in and barrelling towards the fastest corner on the track; the endless sweeping left before Honda hairpin.

In a car that so blatantly bows at the altar of ultimate performance, niceties like air-conditioning and a stereo are not standard. They are, however no cost options, and the only interior features -- apart from switches for the electric windows and mirrors -- on Australian cars not dedicated to the driving experience. Out goes the standard M3's onboard TV monitor, electric seats, leather interior, the fifth seat (middle rear) -- the CSL also loses safety equipment, such as side airbags for front and rear occupants.

So, importantly, the CSL gets an upgraded DSC+T Dynamic Stability Control plus Traction system which is operated via two switches; one mounted ahead of the gear lever, the second on the steering wheel boss. One knocks the edge off the car's stability system -- which uses individual wheel braking to keep the show on the road -- the other reduces the amount of rear brake and throttle intervention when wheelspin occurs. Don't be afraid to turn these systems off on the racetrack. We did.

The lead car takes up the challenge, doing everything in its power to get away from us. In just two laps we've gone from tail-out hooligans who must be tamed, to a tangible threat to on-track supremacy. Don't kid yourself, it's the car. But even so, the lead M3 accelerates harder, corners faster and brakes later on each of the next four laps than before. At times its tail is wagging more than a Labrador on Ecstasy as the driver dances the knife-edge of adhesion, milking every ounce of grip from its deteriorating tyres, using every inch of track to extract max-attack. The CSL never drops an inch, never breaks traction, and never shakes its tail under brakes. The tighter we turn, the earlier we boot it, we brake harder; the CSL responds every time. Eventually the M3 surrenders, and leads us back into the pits. The cars pull up, the door opens and Geoff Brabham steps out, grinning back at us like a kid who's just discovered jelly beans, chocolate and peanut butter can go together. But the joke's on him. We've just enjoyed a supermodel sandwich in the penthouse suite of the Ritz Carlton.

Maybe I'd have been better off never knowing the BMW M3 CSL. Maybe I wouldn't be constantly considering my girlfriend's earning potential as a 'working girl', or how many house bricks you can pawn and still hold the roof up, or whether there's an untapped market for nail clippings.

And maybe sex was better before.