2009 BMW M3 smooth as whipped cream

Kathy Renwald

The 2009 BMW M3 will make you want to get up early to take advantage of empty roads.

Kathy Renwald

SPECIAL TO THE STAR

I drove the BMW M3 Coupe for a week. Here are my tips:

Forget the manual, you'll only get confused. Just keep punching the M Power button until there are so many red lights glowing on the instrument panel your face looks like 180/100.

Forget the Navigation. The only reason to use it is to punch in the address of your bank so you can borrow enough money to buy one.

Start getting up early, like when those people are stealing earthworms from your lawn. That's the proper time to enjoy the M3, just you and the breeze, 414 horses and the street sweepers.

Girls, you don't need arms like Michele Obama to drive an M3. It has servotronic steering. In Normal mode it's whipped cream smooth, in Sport it's as sensuous as casting a fly on the Saugeen River. And the turning circle is trim and tight – the car's nimble enough to use on a rural mail delivery route.

Print out the options list and then keep studying it until it's as worn as a Dead Sea Scroll. Try to make the car affordable. My tester was $89,495; the base is $71,300. I could live without the $4,000 executive package with its sunshades, compass and adjustable seat width; you'd have to have ribs removed to use it properly anyway. Think of how this exercise will bring you closer to your partner. "Honey, do we really need the $2,000 Electronic Damper Control?"

Forget the past. The aura of the previous M3 was that you had to suffer for the speed, bruised internal organs, chipped teeth, raw knuckles – it's over. Though it's still fast enough to crush a kidney stone – redlines at 8,500 rpm, stops dramatically – it's refined enough to drive to a festival or funeral.

Embrace the bulge. The one you see from the driver's seat. The seductive hump in the hood is one of the few man-eating gestures of the too-tame-for-some exterior. Inside, it runs from tasteful to tasty with carbon black leather panels on the dash mimicking a Madonna corset.

Will it be the six-speed manual or the M Double Clutch Transmission? The M Double with Drivelogic adds $3,900 to the bank loan. The paddle shifters work like a weapon. Drive-logic offers a Chinese buffet of ways to customize the driving experience:

Behind door No. 1 is winter, wimp and wuss settings. Behind door No. 6 is sporty, surreal and no stability control. In setting 1, the M3 glides through seven gear changes with courtly civility. Choose six and things get jiggy. One can incur the Transmission Malfunction warning as we did, in which certain gears are removed from your repertoire.

It either corrects itself with the next start-up, or the black box needs to see the light of day.

"Probably a phantom fault," said BMW Canada spokesman Rob Dexter when I fessed up. The DCT delivers a blistering 0-to-100 km/h in 4.6 seconds, the manual in 4.8. I haven't driven the manual but I think I could be happy with it.

The Double Clutch Transmission is at its most alluring when cranked up to high-performance mode. It matches revs when downshifting with a big blast of bravado, and requires no input from the driver. That's a plus or minus depending on your motor skills. The debate between true manual vs. semi-manual will rage on – like film vs. digital. The manual I suspect, keeps the driver more involved.

Comparison shop, even if it's on paper. In the same classroom is the Porsche 911 Carrera, with no useable back seat, a harder ride and less luggage room, but still a storied, loveable beast. The Mercedes-Benz C63 AMG has the throatiest howl and lively manners, and from the past a favourite of mine, the Audi RS4. It's the most politically incorrect, not as refined, but raw and magnetic.

Don't get attached. If you drive one and you love it and you can't afford it, you're going to need a hit of that drug that wipes out your short-term memory. Then get the other drug that induces love of lesser thrills like the VW GTI.

The M3 Coupe gets so many things right – it's a livable shell, with a gnarly soul. The people driving it may be dressed in Armani, but you can bet they gargle with tequila.

Freelance auto reviewerKathy Renwald can be reached at kathyrenwald.com

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