Anyone who’s ever spent more money than they really could afford on a car they absolutely couldn’t live without knows that a certain amount of buyer’s remorse comes with the territory. I certainly felt a fair share of doubt about my own such purchase, when, just days after buying my ’99 M Coupe, I drove a friend over the Mt Hood pass in heavy weather. Having driven the car only a few times by then, I knew little about the M’s handling characteristics beyond its reputation for making fast decisions at the limit of grip. Sure, I’d blasted it around some dry sweepers, and even strung a few corners together, but I had no idea what to expect on rough, wet roads with poor visibility until I found myself pushing to get around traffic a few miles from the top of the pass.
The opportunity wasn’t endless: about a quarter mile of passing lane had opened up just as Highway 26 disappeared around a long but sharp corner. As the M’s suspension loaded up, rebound off the battered road suddenly made the back end go all light, and the hair on the back of my neck prickled as some internal G-meter began to worry about where the rear tires’ next bit of grip was going to come from. And then, just as my right foot was easing back off the throttle in hopes of calming the rear end’s polka dance, minor potholes became full-on ruts filled with water, and the M’s oversized rear tires started hydroplaning. As the rear of the car started to pull back into a fishtail, I realized that my beloved new car was scaring me a little… and that the Oregon winter hadn’t even properly begun yet. Could it be, I wondered, that I had just spent a lot of money on the wrong car?
In fairness to the M, I was comparing it to an experience it couldn’t help but fall short of: my last real sportscar-on-a-winding-road jaunt involved a Porsche Cayman S on tight, well-paved Southern Californian roads. That experience (at least the parts where we could find an empty road) set my personal standard for what a true sportscar could do, namely create an instant connection between man and machine. From the driver’s seat of the Cayman, I felt in total control; the wheel communicated everything, the brakes were artesian wells confidence, and the mid-mounted engine made the thing feel like it was pivoting around me. As a result, I pushed it harder than anything I’ve pushed before, and yet felt less drama than I’d ever felt driving a car fast. Taking sharp corners at 80 MPH imparts the laugh-out-loud rush that can only come from violating ones personal sense of the laws of physics, but because physics seemed suspended by the Cayman’s impeccable poise, fear-based rush that is the more familiar hallmark of spirited driving never came.
Needless to say, a ten-year-old, front-engined coupe with a humble rear suspension was never going to match a brand-new Cayman for sheer confidence and ability, but even a month after my ass-clenching Mt Hood blast, Mr M was still scaring me a little. Even on the interstate, slight unevenness in the road surface will send the Clownshoe pulling in one direction or the other, and as the Oregon rain has started falling, hydroplaning has become an increasingly frequent occurrence. In both cases, the fundamental problem seemed to be in the steering: the wheel’s weighting lightens up considerably for a tiny fraction of turn directly on-center, accentuating the wayward tendencies of its chassis. Where the Cayman would whisper to your fingers at any wheel position, the M seemed to go strangely quiet when your hands were at ten and two.
As time went on, I began to worry. Was the steering bad? Was the alignment off? Was the eigenwillig M going to drive me over a yawning cliff despite (or rather, because of) my apparent overconfidence? One morning on a blast up to Seattle under more nasty weather conditions, the nagging voices built to a crescendo. I was twenty minutes (and one cup of coffee) into the trip, and already I felt like the M’s helm had a mind of its own, easing this way and that, demanding minor correction after minor correction. This was going to be a long trip… and an even longer ownership experience. Unless…
Suddenly I realized how little context I had to compare the M’s behavior to. Modern cars like the Cayman S and other late-model screamers I’ve driven are designed to flatter, and frankly, my experience with older, less-sophisticated performance cars is extremely limited. Maybe, I thought, just maybe the problem is… me.
I know how silly this might sounds, but at that moment, my relationship with the M Coupe changed forever. Instead of using my subconscious to worry about everything that felt strange or un-Cayman-like about the M, I cleared my mind and slipped into the kind of meditative state I use on the shooting range. If I couldn’t hear what the M had to say, I would have to listen harder. And sure enough, when I was properly focused, the steering’s on-center slackness that had seemed vague and wayward before was suddenly revealed to be endlessly communicative… just on a far more subtle level than the chunky heft of its other steering positions. In that tiny slice of wheel play, there was a world of communication and instant response… but I had to focus on it completely to even know it was there.
Since my revelation, I’ve fallen more in love with the M every time I’ve driven it. Whereas before I liked its stripped-down, old-school interior out of a reflexive hatred for the gizmos that permeate modern cockpits, it’s now a reminder that this car truly demands attention. Previously, the edges of grip felt vague and ominous, inspiring fear and hesitancy. Now, even in wet weather, I’ve learned to push the M a little further each chance I get, increasing my confidence with each opportunity.
As my respect for the car grew, I found it capable of communicating more than I would have guessed when I bought it. In fact, just the other day I accidentally pushed Mr M across the limit under power, crossing the Rubicon in my relationship with the car. Though I was driving with complete focus, the rear-end swung around quickly enough to actually surprise me; the on-power limit of the M Coupe is a fine line indeed. But once it happened, I knew exactly where to catch it, and I ended up pulling off the prettiest little drift I’ve ever managed, almost without noticing.
The point of all this is that my eyes have been opened to a whole new approach to driving as entertainment. It’s not slow-car-fast fun, and it’s not how-does-this-car-let-me-do-this modern sportscar fun. It’s scowl-at-the-road, don’t-stop-to-blink, surrender-yourself-to-the-car fun. Yes, it’s work… but it’s fun work. Quite a bit like my job at TTAC, come to think of it. In any case, my eyes have been opened. The term “driver’s car” has gained a number of new entries in my personal dictionary. In fact, I’m almost starting to believe that a “true” “driver’s car” should demand much of its driver, even if that makes it seems less capable at first blush.
Still, something tells me, most enthusiasts would prefer to be flattered rather than challenged by a performance car. What say you?
I would like both but I know those qualities rarely exist in the same car. My problem is my love for all things automotive. When it comes to cars I’m like that guy you know who wants to make love to nearly every woman he meets just to see what it feels like because he knows the experience with every one will be just a little bit different. He knows that not every experience will be good, far from it, he just wants to see what each one is like.
If given the choice of ONE car to drive on a daily basis, I’ll take the one that flatters me. If looking for a weekend toy, I’ll take the one that challenges me.
BTW perhaps you need some better “wet” tires and then some snow tires (non-studded, duh.)
This post resonates with me
I think a car should do what its driver wants it to do. If a driver wants to look + feel like a hero, a car should flatter. If a driver wants to be challenged & constantly learn limits, it should challenge. Sometimes we don’t know what we want, or might not know that we wanted something, so it’s good to drive a wide range of cars to see where our tastes lie.
For me right now- I want a car that flatters. When I’m ready to buy a dedicated track car, then I will go for something challenging.
Ed…
“driver” is the key word.
Every driver has limitations to his/her skills.
I would offer that unless a new car owner is willing, and able, to attain the skill level for a car, they shouldn’t be in it.
Sounds like you grew into the car. MOST hot shots in their new image have no intention of allowing the car to be all it can be.
It’s simply a means to project onto others what you want them to think of you.
Not as you really are.
In my case, I am not sure I can make a Caravan all it can be!
One last thought…many of us love to own great cars JUST because we admire craftsmanship and engineering.
To hand wash/wax and then sit in the garage all night and look at it.
It’s just love, Ed.
Is it OK to hug a car?
Just close the garage door.
As a fan of older sports cars that do not cover my mistakes i’d have to say it’s better for my flaws to be known then hidden. a known problem is a problem i can work on; my non-abs car has tought me just how important braking in a straight line is. brakes and steering are never applied at the same time thanks to that. my other car, another car of mine with rwd and no traction or stibility control at all tought me the fear and fun of lift-off oversteer.
my sports car of choice does not hide my flaws at all, it points them out and rubs my face in them, but when i get everything just right it’s so much more rewarding, it lets me know when i’ve done it right too and thats where the work really pays off.
I prefer my performance rides to reward my good behavior, which of course means the bad is punished. I simply think this is more rewarding. One can get carried away, of course. Your car shouldn’t challenge you to the point that every hard ride is a white knuckle experience or your afraid to drive at 8/10s because any surprise you encounter means a few 360s. But the reward for making your car dance; that controlled rear side step, is so immeasurably pleasurable that you either get this or you just don’t. If your car covers for all mistakes or dilutes the skill level required down to the point that the car seems to being doing the work, well that’s poseur territory. Of course, since the performance ride is not the daily driver, it is easier to tolerate a more demanding ride.
Flattery is for the insecure. Seduction is all about challenge. You want to always be striving for perfection, not complacently (and falsely) believing that you have found it.
There is no pride in knowing that a car can cover your faults. If any snot-nosed kid can pilot the vehicle with nearly identical results as a skilled driver, then really what is the point? What’s the reward in that?
You, Sir, will never own a Nissan GT-R. That is the definition of what that car is all about. (Neither will I but that’s cause it cost too much damn money.)
The reward is in feeling like a superhero, the feeling of accomplishing something.
Buying a sports car is an emotional purchase, and catering to those emotions, making a driver feel like they’re able to tame and control a car that can humiliate other cars on the road, makes it feel like the car was worth it, and to keep coming back for more.
@Educator(of teachers)Dan
Neither will he own a Porsche, Ferrari, Miata, STI, EVO, or any number of other cars that are either very forgiving or loaded to the gills with drivers’ aids.
It’s a shock to be made aware that this can now be called an ‘old’ car. I loved my ’99 M-Coupe! Maybe I always drove on dry SoCal roads, but it never scared me. I never worried about stopping distance, cornering speed, or passing ability. Beautiful rich torque curve and handling like a roller-skate. That was some fun car.
Now, in a 650i, I’m older and more comfortable, and less prone to the hooliganism that the M Coupe inspired with it’s jet-like acceleration and great handling feel. Right car for the right time, but this article made me miss my M-Coupe.
One fond memory is of the times I would put my big American Bulldog back in the hatch. We’d drive around Newport and he’d fill out the back window with his big melon head and I’d see people in cars behind gesticulating and pointing from their cars. I put scuba gear in the back and race down Laguna Cyn Rd. at 6am. See, it was a Sports Activity Vehicle. Mostly Sports, but you can’t do that with a Cayman.
The ability of your car to kill you for a mistake is what makes it a ‘driver’s’ car. Finding out where that limit is and getting the crap scared out of you is all a part of the fun. I think the question ‘challenge or flatter,’ ought to be ‘oversteer or understeer?” Back in the early 80’s I got to deliver an armoured up Sonderklasse; what a great car (for the day) fast, comfortable and virtually no sense of your speed other than the blur of trees going by. But I wouldn’t call that a drivers car. Not only could it take a direct hit from an RPG, I could have rolled it doing 100KPH and walked away with out a scratch, it was that safe. I had more fun pushing my Opel to the limit even though that limit was a fraction of the S class.
Could it be, I wondered, that I had just spent a lot of money on the wrong car?
No, but you haven’t spent money on the right tires, or perhaps a good sense of timing. To drive like, eg, Mr. Baruth requires a bit of willful sociopathy and a lack of judgement and, honestly, an appreciation of what can go wrong.
If you don’t have that, don’t risk it, or at least don’t risk it until you’ve probed the extent of risk in a more controlled environment. Winter coming? Get some better tires. Not sure of how to handle being on the wrong side of Newton? Practice somewhere that, if you go off, you won’t be paying for it.
Whether a car is a “driver’s car” or not is kind of irrelevant: you can get flattery and/or challenge in a Toyota Sienna** let alone an M Coupe, but it’s all down to timing and judgement (eg, don’t hoon the Sienna with the kids in the back; do hoon the Sienna on the lake you know freezes solid) as to when and how you should.
** ask me how I know.
I like cars that will let you make mistakes but won’t punish you too harshly for them. The Miata is one such car. You will know you messed up that corner, but you usually will not wind up upside-down in the ditch because of it. Cars like that are great at training you to be a better driver by letting you learn to listen and feel for the edges of both their and your capability without killing you when you surpass it.
A couple things:
How are the tires and the alignment? The rear suspension in the M Coupe has a reputation for being somewhat hairy (the multilink rear end in the E46 I drive is supposedly more forgiving). Make sure your tires and alignment are decent before driving any Z3 platform car hard.
Have you taken the car to a track day yet to probe the limits of its handling in a safe environment? I know the Oregon BMW CCA has an active Portland chapter that should be doing car control clinics and track days starting in the spring of 2011.
This.
First things first: sort the car out to suit your environment. Summer tires are a waste unless you know you’ll only use them on warm, dry days. Get a good set of hi-perf all-seasons. Hunt around on various forums to find a good street alignment. This may very well not be the OEM settings. Try a few different ones to find what you do and don’t like. Are you on the OEM suspension? Bum around the forums again for opinions on various aftermarket springs, shocks, coilovers, etc.
Track days: some people enjoy the feeling of clutching the precipice of disaster all the time, but I find that gets irritating in a hurry.
As long as you’re prepared to crash the car, anything goes.
If you drive at “the limit” long enough, particularly on the street, you will crash. It’s as certain as death and taxes.
Hopefully no innocents get taken out at the same time.
@John: psarhjinian hit the nail on the head upthread with the phrase “willful sociopathy”. I believe the secret is to see your fellow drivers (and bicyclists, pedestrians, etc.) not as “innocents”, but as equally complicit, yet insignificant, participants.
For example, if one’s hoonery results in the deaths of a family in a Toyota Sienna in oncoming traffic, well, it’s their own fault for buying a detached slushbox instead of a true driver’s car, they should have had race training and responded better, they knew the risks they took when they got on the road, etc.
It depends on what you mean by flattery.
Neutral handling makes a car more fun, in my opinion. A car can be fantastically neutral without being boring.
On a different page is AWD. AWD, to me at least, makes a car more capable and perhaps more flattering, but way less fun (unless it’s in the dirt).
The challenge is best. When you are challenged and let go of ego and pre-conceived notions, you will learn and become better. My 1st love is martial arts, been at it for years and no matter the challenger or style, my flaws will be exposed for all to see. Then reflection on how something could be done better leads you to open your mind and grow in knowledge and ability. Martial arts, driving, playing violin or chess…the same.
Ideally, a driver’s car would flatter up to a point, then start to challenge.
Last weekend, I drove on a race track in my car for the very first time. It was a very humbling experience, when I found out my (lack of) skill and confidence means I can’t even approach my car’s limits at the moment. Since the forecast that day called for a 50% chance of rain, someone asked the instructors if the rain meant we couldn’t drive. The instructors went into a discussion about how driving in the wet can be a great learning aid, as everything your car would normally do in the dry is amplified and slowed down in the wet. It sounds like driving in wet weather, as butt-clenching and scary as it is, will ultimately help you become more familiar with the car. Stay safe, and I look forward to hearing more about your Bavarian Bread Van!
Your driving and writing skills are becoming well honed…flattery!
Thank you Mr Niedermeyer! Perfect timing on this article as I am currently asking the same questions to myself on my relatively new to me MX5. I had a crap your pants experience this week losing control in heavy traffic on a freeway.
I always prefer those cars which don’t look pretty but by god they demand your attention. A quick spin in my best friends Caterham left me with the knowledge that my skill levels were far too low to drive that car to it’s full potential – but rather than scare me off it inspired me to learn more.
As per the advice of others here, I’d take your M to the track and practise. Failing that, find an old airfield (like I did) and spend as much time as you can there before being kicked off (repeatedly).
But like Mr Baruth says – always be prepared that one day something bad could happen. Lying on your side in the car in a ditch brushing broken glass out of your hair wondering why your chest hurts so much is only the first of many feelings that usually culminate in that cold empty feeling of ‘Oh f**k what have I done.’
I think that flatter/challenge is not simply a question of oversteer or understeer. It’s a question of how well a car copes with either situation, how well it communicates these situations to the driver, and how well it enables the driver to cope with said situations.
The Miata is an excellent example. Here is a car that will not understeer except under the heaviest provocations, will occasionally hang the tail out in fast corners, and is quite easy to three-sixty on the racetrack when you’re booking it. And yet, the Miata is one of the easiest cars out there to drive fast. It’s intuitive, and it can flatter you by allowing you to heroically catch a slide you wouldn’t in an edgier car, and at the same time challenge you to find your limits, simply because they’re much more approachable.
It’s a balance… more fun than a car that’s impossible to get crossed up, and more useful than a car that demands absolute attention merely to go in a straight line down a lumpy road.
Just finished a stint with a Genesis Coupe, and boy, was that interesting. Incredible mechanical grip in the dry… and the ability to jump half-a-lane sideways in the wet when overtaking with just a quarter throttle. With the stability control on. Needless to say, there are times when it’s good to actually have nannies, and having 300-odd horses on nearly treadless tires in the rain is one of them. Of course… they were off whenever the sun came out.
I sure don’t know the exact answer to this one. Both my old Saturn SL2 and my Accord are quite predictable. In the former case, there was turn near where I lived where the surface had been a bit polished, and in a rain storm I could easily and safely put the car into a four wheel drift, knowing exactly when the tires would let go. I liked that a lot. And I can remember driving a VW bug for a review here and getting spooked by the oversteer, and also driving a Carrera and realizing that the thing had far more power than I was competent to use. I loved the learning I did at Skip Barber, but I don’t remember the cars I drove–including a Cayman and an M3–as doing anything surprising, although I drove hell out of the M3. The Cayman, I’d say that did flatter me, but I didn’t think of it that way. I just that what an absolute joy that thing was, how I’d hit automotive nirvana. https://www.thetruthaboutcars.com/david-holzman-goes-to-the-skip-barber-shop
Great question. I’ve always had cars that you might say flatter the driver, in that they are easy to drive swiftly, with no vices, and are communicative yet forgiving. They’ve never had so much power that I had to fear the throttle. I prefer the term “approachable” to flattering. Or “that would make a great school car at Skip Barber”. Were my choices made consciously or otherwise? Only my headshrinker knows for sure. I will say this: only a very little seat time in a 1989 911 made me realize how much my own cars had been “flattering” me. Given my skills and learning curve, that’s probably for the best.
On the other hand, a driver’s car is one that involves the driver, full stop. The car needn’t be a handful to accomplish this.
The way I see it…if a car is a challenge to simply drive fast (this could be a myriad of things such as alignment, tire pressure or condition, etc.) then it hurts your ability to get better as a driver. Take a good platform car which handles well and is predictable then the challenge for that driver is getting ever so faster in the car. There’s always a 1/10th or 1/100th to be gained when driving fast anywhere – the real challenge is to find them.
We have a contingent of guys where I live which own and worship the almighty M3s. Hands down the car is great in every aspect. However, b/c it is such a great car and very forgiving – it masks a poor drivers skill. I’ve had plenty of students and ridden and shared the track with the “advanced” drivers (when my Spec 944 turns about the same lap times). The M3 only flatters their ego thinking they are really great drivers when in fact the car really helps hide some poor driving habits (very forgiving).
If you want to explore the limits of an old BMW, especially in bad weather you need to be pretty experienced.
This type of car is not suited for the “cellphone coma driver”, but for the Driver.
I like cars that are a challenge to drive.
I’m torn in two directions on this thing. Normally for everyday driving I actually prefer a car that has limits that are ‘easy to reach’ so that the car can actually be fun to drive also at legal or near legal speeds. But on the other hand, I don’t want it to be outright dangerous, so it has to be really responsive and give good feedback. Most modern or german cars I have tried are just to silent and forgiving so they get boring to the point where I feel physical pain having to drive them every day to work etc. I think I prefer an old stripped out twitchy rwd car for everyday driving, and I can rather try a car that ‘flatters’ me from time to time, just for fun. (I have to admit , in the winter, I have started to enjoy the LSD and ABS on my Scorpio)
This is Spot on Ed, i always thought today’s supercars were dialed to be driven by almost anyone. the Cayman S is just too easy to thrash on ones limit, so are many other cars, the Supperleggera Mainly, i was stumped to see how easy i got to drive on my own limit. these cars have all the little bugs dialed out of them so when their owners dump a bucket load of money on them, they wont look like fools.
but cars like the M-coupe give the driver more to work with, hence the actual driving.
had a similat experience with the new Mazda 3 MPS. that car is a hooligan and the torque steer is a pain, but if you manage it well, the car is a great drive, very much fun and involving, and once you have it figured, you can know for sure than not any chump can get in it and drive it as good as you do… unless they are Jack Baruth, the Stig, VBH, Sabine Schmidt .. or people of that denomination…
Ed, I think it’s time for you (and many commenters here) to take up racing, despite its hideous expense. I too used to get giddy about all this street-car silliness (the oh-so-subtle communication of the steering! The thrill of the perfect rev-match!). Now, 10 years in on a resolutely mediocre Club Racing career, all I ask of my street car is a plush ride, an automatic tranny, and satellite radio. I get my thrills on the track.
My intent here is not a nanny-scolding for those who drive at 10/10ths on the street (though I humbly suggest that what you now think of as 10/10ths is actually 8/10ths; the first time you drive a Spec Miata through Lime Rock’s Uphill and Diving Turn absolutely flat out on the same lap, well, that’s 10/10ths). The problem is, there’s no point to your heroic driving. What are you winning? What are you achieving?
When you earn your competition license, then get through those miserable first few Tail End Charlie races, then work your way toward the front of the class; when you stalk the Fast Guy who’s always served as your bogey lap after lap, realizing you’re just as goddam quick as he is; when you finally pop out and outbrake him into that second-gear corner; *then* you’ve done something.
And the interesting part is, you won’t give a rat’s behind about that ever-so-subtle change in steering feel, and you won’t care that in your excitement you graunched your downshift. You will have done what we’ve all dreamed about since we were kids.
It took me a few minutes to think about this one. The best answer I can come up with is if the choice is between “flatter” and “challenge”, I would go with “challenge”, which I would follow by defining “challenge” as having high enough limits to test the driver’s limits. I don’t know that driving an old 911 with its propensity to snap spin if you lift off the throttle mid-corner is the kind of challenging that I mean. If the challenge is keeping the car from killing you, how much of a driver’s car is it really?
An “ultimate sports car” should be flat-out challenging to drive; fast, slow, on the street or track just challenging.
An ultimate driver’s car should be challenging to drive near the limit, or at least much faster than you could legally drive on the street, but should never challenge in its daily-driver role.
No sporting machine, whether it be a driver’s or a sports car, should flatter anything more than your image.
A “driver’s car” should make you feel good – “Flatter” is vanity and I don’t believe in fooling myself. That being said, the car should also look good, not necessarily make “you” look good, especially if one is one of those old (or young) greaseballs that drive Corvettes that you see every once in a while. I have an ’07 MX5 Sport that my wife and I love for the sake of having a small convertible that is sort of practical, but loads of fun to drive around town – a “toy”, and, yes, I can take tight corners at the limit of my admittedly ever-diminishing ability for that sort of thing, and it DOES make me (and her) feel good! It helps that it also stops on a dime, too. Whether it makes ME look good, well, that’s not for me to judge, but it sure makes my wife look gorgeous!
Otherwise, I gently cruise in my beloved Impala comfortable in my own little world, confident I can handle and negotiate all the rough, pot-holed roads (I-75 & U.S. 42) that obstruct my daily commute!
As for you guys, if you (meaning YOU, Jack and Steve) wouldn’t tell these stories, we wouldn’t be the beneficiaries of the hair-raising and blood-curdling tales of adventure and woe that you feed us weekly! What else would we have as much fun commenting on? GM hating? Not me!
Interesting article … and along the lines of a conversation I recently had with a close friend of mine. He has had a Z06 for a couple of years, but had always wanted a Viper. Well, he finally found a ’95 Viper for the right price and he bought it, and kept the Z06 to boot. This is his take: Both have similar performance, but how they go about their business is totally different. The Z06 will forgive you if you make a mistake by way of “nanny control”. The Viper won’t. The Z06 is easy to drive, the Viper must be “driven”. If you just want to run down to the corner store, take the Z06. If you want to actually have a driving experience, take the Viper. He says the Z06 is so easy to drive you really don’t know how much over your head you might be. With the Viper, it constantly reminds you to pay close attention, or you’ll pull a Baruth!!!
and this is exactly why I’m shopping E30’s right now. I remember going through this with my first car, a Bronco. It was a stubborn and dangerous bitch of a car, willing to swap ends at the slightest excuse, but everything since then has been easy by comparison, even purebred sports cars. Oversteer makes a car great.
You know, this is the difference in winning a woman and ‘renting’ a woman. In one case, you’ve accomplished something, expended effort and skill. In the other, you wrote a check and got a sure thing that offers no anticipation, no suspense, no victory.
To continue with this Baruth-esque analogy, what man wants the fake orgasm instead on some sage instruction? I understand not wanting the lunatic that mocks and chides, but tease me with the promise that it can be even better next time.
One of the great aspects of motorcycling is the old ‘90% rider, 10% bike’ adage. A skilled rider on a humble machine will outrun the beginner on the extreme machine just about every time. Newbs that haven’t studied and practiced will be left in the dust at every corner and relegated to short burst in straight lines. I prefer the meritocracy.
I think TireRack has a set of PS2s with your name on it.
Ed,
If your car has no or little on center feel, there is something wrong with it, and I would venture to say that your bushings are shot. Replace the control arm bushings, stabilizer bar bushings, and perhaps new end links and tie rod ends, and your car will be transformed. You may also have some slop in your ball joints, so new control arms may be in order. I just changed my control arm bushings for Meyle HD units, and the change in on center feel is dramatic. I only have 40k on the car and the roads are like glass where I live, so realistically they should be changed at 30k in most areas. Rear bushings are also a possibility, so I would give them a hard look as well.
Thanks for the tips… I will definitely be looking into this.
Hmmm. . . . Every car has its limits: some are high; some are low. I’ve never driven a Cayman, but I assume from everything I’ve read that its limits are pretty high. If you (or I) were to drive a Cayman for the first time and we said, “Wow this car has no limits!” what that statement really is saying is that the Cayman’s limits are much higher than those of any other car we’ve experienced before. So, when we’re driving the Cayman in a way that we think — based on our experience of other cars — that is at its limits . . . we’re actually not. The nice thing about the old, vintage sports cars (of which the Miata is a reincarnation) is that their limits were pretty low, so if you exceeded them, you were not at super elevated velocities (where everything happens too fast for a street driver to deal with) or at super high Gs (which means if you lose it, you’re in big trouble). OTOH, with modern supercars, that have high limits, if you exceed them, you’re in big trouble really fast . . . probably faster than you can deal with.
The real issue is communication . . . how much warning does the car give you that you are approaching its limits? First generation 911s and even old VW Beetles were very scary because the combination of rear weight bias, relatively crude independent rear suspension and the tire technology of the day meant that terminal oversteer came on without any warning.
I own an ’01 Z3 roadster with the 3 liter engine that has variable valve timing. IIRC, my engine develops 225 hp vs. 240 hp from the 3.2 liter engine in your coupe. So the cars ought to have a similar feel (and, IIRC, they have the same 0-60 time). I have never felt that my Z3 was the least bit “greasy” in the rain, so I suggest you have a look at your tires, tire inflation and suspension alignment. My car, with the stock suspension, wheels, etc. basically understeers. At cornering limits, one can “feel” the rear suspension “working” (it’s a little unsettled) and, because of that, demands a certain “respect” from the driver. But, I’ve never felt the car seriously unsettled by mid-corner bumps. Reviewers have complained about the Z3s steering characteristics, mostly because entering a corner (and turning the car) requires a fairly deliberate steering input (and the steering feels “loaded up” at that initial turn-in), but once you’re in the corner and have chosen a particular steering angle, the car doesn’t try that hard to put you back “on-center.” So, it’s not a car that you “flick-flick” through curves. Maybe that’s a vice; I dunno. It never bothered me particularly, and I’ve had my car for 7 years.
Like you, I’m attracted to the “just the basics” of the Z3 interior: no fancy gizmos, three dials for the HVAC system, etc. I’ve always felt that the Germans eventually moved their sports cars into mini-luxury cars as a way to justify to the buyer their price premium over the Japanese product. Sadly, the latest iteration of the Z car puts BMW squarely in that camp.
The one thing your car has that I would like is the better sport seats. The baseline seats of the Z3 have to be adjusted “just so” or else they will kill you. Even then, they’re far from great.
I realize that any recent Corvette and probably any Porsche product will out-drive my Z3. But what I also know is that there are very few drivers who are able — or willing — to drive in the zone between my Z3s limits and their car’s limits, which is what they would have to do to out-drive it.
The open top roadster is an emotional choice, and the principal reason I own what I own. It’s not practical; it’s not faster . . . but, for me, its a lot more fun. However, I do miss the ability to put my dog in the car, as some of the other coupe owners report having done with theirs. My dog fits perfectly in the passenger seat, sitting up and belted in. But I only do that for a cute photo. The reality is that if the passenger airbag deployed while he was in that position, it probably would be very bad news for him.
Challenge. Definitely.
Among the great many things I miss about my ’98 FIAT Coupe (the car in my avatar) was the challenge of getting to know its limits in pretty much exactly the way you’re describing Ed. I’m sure the clown shoe has very different characteristics and temperament to the coop but there’s clearly a similar effort required in really getting to know the car, and similar rewards for that effort…
I don’t think that resulting degree of bond between car and driver can really be matched either in a modern how-do-I-make-it-let-me-play sports car, or in slow-car-fun as you put it… and having experienced that once I can’t see myself ever wanting to own anything else.
I really love this question. Since driving my father in laws ’87 C4 Corvette up Angeles Crest Hwy and wondering where the fun was supposed to be, I’ve had this split love between the state of the art levels of perormance and good old fashioned staying on top of the suspension fun at street speeds.
So now my E30 (which looks like the M Coupe if you look under the rear bumper) seems like a delicious recipe for back roac fun. It could use another 50 hp, but then what couldn’t. So I went and bought a 1990 Miata and now I have two of those seat of the pants driver cars that I can have a lot of fun in without anyone really noticing. It’s kind of fun to have to watch the road instead of everything else people do in cars anymore.
Besides, I’m still getting over the nosebleed I got from the C6 convertible that I rented for my birthday. They should never have put that G-meter on the heads up display. Woohoo!
like many have said above (and I said when you got the car) take it to the track or auto-x. pushing a car as fast as an M coupe on the street means you’re just waiting for the accident and painful consequences at the end.
additionally, the layout of any Z3 with the driver sitting so close to the rear axle, combined with likely dry grip-biased summer tires, does not make for a calming drive in low friction conditions. don’t even _think_ about driving in _any_ snow without snow tires either, it’s a complete joke.
I have zero desire to push cars beyond their limits on the street, the roads available to me are crap and the cost in personal or financial pain isn’t worth it for the fleeting thrill. let alone the consequences if you involve anyone else (passengers, other drivers) in your poor judgment/lack of skills.
btw, don’t rely AT ALL on the ASC+T which the S52 MZ3s were equipped with, it’s not very elegant in it’s implementation and will take power away just when you want it as you slide through a corner on a track or if you are (significantly) overdriving conditions on the street. luckily for me, there wasn’t anything to hit when this happened to me on track in mine years ago.
I think it should challenge you, no matter how high or low the limits. My decidedly low tech-low limit cars are a ’95 Explorer, and a equally stone-age 77 Chevelle. The Explorer challenges me to keep it upright, yet driving it briskly, which it will, but makes me nervous at my limits of what I feel its chassis can deliver.
The ’77 Chevelle you can drive it hard enough to chase hubcaps down, and scare small children with the levels of body roll, but it never gives up grip until the white-wall tires are down on the sidewalls. So far its limits are high enough to be enjoyable in dry weather, but come slick pavement, it gets to be a handful thanks to the torquey V8 and lack of positraction.
These old Z3Ms have problems with the diff mounts cracking and other woes relating to the rear subframe. Would be wise to get it checked out and maybe install some new thick plates to reinforce the rear sheet metal. BMW forums have details.
Nothing worse than having a vehicle whose handling characteristics vary without much warning, considering this car was always reckoned to a bit of a handful anyway even when new.
http://www.zroadster.net/forum/viewtopic.php?p=231970#231970
Please buy some new tires, Ed! I recommend the Michelin Pilot Sport A/S.
Great question Ed! Though I’m late (and doubt anyone will read this) here goes. Challenge of course. All great cars have soul (surprised no one mentioned that). The soul is largely due to some failing or other. This makes the car a challenge and as you begin to understand it you connect with it and voilà, love is born.
That’s the difference between Ferrari and Porsches. The German, deadly, surgical, cold. The Ferrari, fatal, crazy, but oh so hot. Of course though modern electronics eliminates this to a great degree. But its still there.
And I beg to differ Ed as to the slow car fast ting. A slow car challenges you. When I first got my Fiat Palio 1.0, I did it ’cause it was an opportunity and it was for the wife (not for me). Circunstances though intervened and I ended up driving it daily. First I secretely hated it. Drove it hard to see if it’d break. Suddenly I began to appreciate the challenges the car presented and started developing the skills to beat the limits. And it has become fun. Now I know how to drive it fast and get fun out of it. Its work’cause the little engine doesn’t have a enough torque or much elasticity. To get it moving you have to know how to push and how to keep it there.
Believe me if you wish. It’s fun. Different from the fun you get in the M, but fun nonetheless.
Ed, if you’re not running Ireland Engineering or Powerflex rear subframe bushings, you really should be. The stock ones are way too soft, permitting a ton of lift-throttle oversteer as well as a whole lot of hoopla on rough surfaces. It’s the one fatal design issue in the Z3 rear suspension. I can live with the ‘outdated’ semi-trailing arms in the rear, but not with the whole subframe steering toward the outside of the corner when I lift throttle or lose traction under power.
Steel gray 2002 M roadster here. The Ireland Engineering subframe bushings were easily the best money I’ve spent on the suspension, while being the least expensive part (though the removal of the stock bushings is a decent chunk of work even with the correct tool). I wrote my impressions up over 6 years ago here:
http://www.bimmerfest.com/forums/showthread.php?t=60613
And I vote for challenge.
yes