BMW M5 (2012) long-term test review
By the CAR road test team
Long Term Tests
A visitor to the CAR office gets taken out for a spin in our M5
I suppose that, if one were lucky enough to run a 552bhp super saloon every day, familiarity would gradually erode the shock-and-awe of the BMW’s performance and all-round ability. Handily, my passenger ride during a visit to CAR Magazine this month should have more than rekindled regular custodian Ben Barry’s first impressions of this family-friendly supercar. Provoking a snort of laughter from your passenger simply through the performance of the vehicle you’re driving will tend to do that.
'I’m downstairs in the car park – do you want to come and jump into the M5?' came the message. That’s an offer that doesn’t come along with much regularity, and certainly isn’t one to be refused. One minute I’m in CAR's offices, the next I’m belted in to an interior swathed in £5445 worth of (rather family-unfriendly) Silverstone Merino leather and Alcantara, about to be driven around the best roads on offer within 10 miles of CAR Towers by a man familiar with the F10 M5 like few others and known for having a severe distain for cold, unworn rear rubber.
My bank of comparative experiences is fairly lean – I suppose a passenger ride in a current-gen Cayenne Turbo comes closest. A beautifully appointed cabin and twin-turbo V8 are commonalities which straddle the two, but otherwise, as you might not be too surprised to learn, the abiding impressions of riding shotgun is quite different.
For a start, the BMW is quite remarkably muted at low revs. With the gearbox automatically shuffling through to its longest ratio, a distant rumble not remotely fruity in tone, and a hint of turbo whoosh do a pretty good impression of a 535d. And no, try as I might, I couldn’t isolate the synthetic V8 burble pumped through the car’s hi-fi either.
Of course, such good behaviour is only a temporary stay of execution while the powerplant is coaxed up to temperature. If actions do indeed speak louder than words, then kissing a sonorous 7000rpm moments after the oik in the passenger seat asks if turbos have robbed the M5 of a decent top-end is surely a fine example. While the V8 does indeed bellow an impressive voice as the tachometer points to the exciting side of the dial, by this point the noise becomes a sideshow to the pace of scenery blurring past the window like a demented fast-forward button.
Readers of more mature vintage than my 20-something years will have seen cars getting larger and heftier for a lot longer than I have, but even to a veritable spring chicken, the sensation of linking up corners in Mr Barry’s exuberant driving style felt faintly ridiculous in something the size of the 1945kg M5. You hear the tyres complaining in the distance, but the Pilot Super Sports sound like they’re tucked away a good 30 feet behind your headrest somewhere.
There’s some truth in that – we left a good deal of the black stuff many miles behind us as it turned out.
That’s not to say the M5 is ungainly or feels out-of-control when it’s pushed. The body control was exemplary given the typically lumpy road surface, substantial mass and 19-inch alloys, only becoming unsettled as the weight transferred under braking on some particularly pockmarked asphalt.
As I said, the M5 is one of those cars whose dynamic abilities are so ludicrous it can produce spontaneous, involuntary laughter, but it also requires quiet reflection to absorb the first encounter. Ben broke the palpable silence as we nosed back into CAR HQ with this assessment: 'The thing is, you have to be absolutely driving the nuts off this thing to really appreciate the very best of it.' I’ve taken the liberty of paraphrasing a certain word in that sentence review.
In that case, when you next catch a glimpse of an M5 barrelling along at a considerable rate of knots, simply remind yourself that the driver is seeking only to unlock the hidden depths of dynamic talent from his considerable investment.
By Ollie Kew
Long Term Tests
A visitor to the CAR office gets taken out for a spin in our M5
I suppose that, if one were lucky enough to run a 552bhp super saloon every day, familiarity would gradually erode the shock-and-awe of the BMW’s performance and all-round ability. Handily, my passenger ride during a visit to CAR Magazine this month should have more than rekindled regular custodian Ben Barry’s first impressions of this family-friendly supercar. Provoking a snort of laughter from your passenger simply through the performance of the vehicle you’re driving will tend to do that.
'I’m downstairs in the car park – do you want to come and jump into the M5?' came the message. That’s an offer that doesn’t come along with much regularity, and certainly isn’t one to be refused. One minute I’m in CAR's offices, the next I’m belted in to an interior swathed in £5445 worth of (rather family-unfriendly) Silverstone Merino leather and Alcantara, about to be driven around the best roads on offer within 10 miles of CAR Towers by a man familiar with the F10 M5 like few others and known for having a severe distain for cold, unworn rear rubber.My bank of comparative experiences is fairly lean – I suppose a passenger ride in a current-gen Cayenne Turbo comes closest. A beautifully appointed cabin and twin-turbo V8 are commonalities which straddle the two, but otherwise, as you might not be too surprised to learn, the abiding impressions of riding shotgun is quite different.
For a start, the BMW is quite remarkably muted at low revs. With the gearbox automatically shuffling through to its longest ratio, a distant rumble not remotely fruity in tone, and a hint of turbo whoosh do a pretty good impression of a 535d. And no, try as I might, I couldn’t isolate the synthetic V8 burble pumped through the car’s hi-fi either.
Of course, such good behaviour is only a temporary stay of execution while the powerplant is coaxed up to temperature. If actions do indeed speak louder than words, then kissing a sonorous 7000rpm moments after the oik in the passenger seat asks if turbos have robbed the M5 of a decent top-end is surely a fine example. While the V8 does indeed bellow an impressive voice as the tachometer points to the exciting side of the dial, by this point the noise becomes a sideshow to the pace of scenery blurring past the window like a demented fast-forward button.
Readers of more mature vintage than my 20-something years will have seen cars getting larger and heftier for a lot longer than I have, but even to a veritable spring chicken, the sensation of linking up corners in Mr Barry’s exuberant driving style felt faintly ridiculous in something the size of the 1945kg M5. You hear the tyres complaining in the distance, but the Pilot Super Sports sound like they’re tucked away a good 30 feet behind your headrest somewhere.
There’s some truth in that – we left a good deal of the black stuff many miles behind us as it turned out.
That’s not to say the M5 is ungainly or feels out-of-control when it’s pushed. The body control was exemplary given the typically lumpy road surface, substantial mass and 19-inch alloys, only becoming unsettled as the weight transferred under braking on some particularly pockmarked asphalt.
As I said, the M5 is one of those cars whose dynamic abilities are so ludicrous it can produce spontaneous, involuntary laughter, but it also requires quiet reflection to absorb the first encounter. Ben broke the palpable silence as we nosed back into CAR HQ with this assessment: 'The thing is, you have to be absolutely driving the nuts off this thing to really appreciate the very best of it.' I’ve taken the liberty of paraphrasing a certain word in that sentence review.
In that case, when you next catch a glimpse of an M5 barrelling along at a considerable rate of knots, simply remind yourself that the driver is seeking only to unlock the hidden depths of dynamic talent from his considerable investment.
By Ollie Kew
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