The BMW M1: A Time Machine

It's a warm, humid summer morning. It is very early, I wanted to miss the traffic and rather be there with time to spare, than hold up proceedings with my tardiness. It also allows me a little more time with very special vehicles that I have been invited to drive on this day.

BMW South Africa, in a celebration of 100 years, spent the last several months restoring and returning to glory a number of classic BMW models that should be very dear to South African BMW aficionados. It's the start of a long term project that will see more historically important BMW vehicles being refurbished.

Ask I walk towards the impressive archway at the BMW head office in Midrand, I'm greeted by the silhouettes of two unmistakable cars. The one is familiar, a form and shape quite common on our roads up until a few years ago when they all but seemingly vanished. The hard lines and tight radii of the three-box E30 design. Unmistakable quad headlights and a boxy kidney grille glisten in the morning light and the sun refracts off of the chrome bumpers – yes, the chrome bumpers.

The BMW 333i was the International-Sanctions era response to the BMW E30 M3 that the rest of the world received. Through cunning and engineering ingenuity, as only South Africans can (we did invent the Kreepy-Krauly after all), BMW SA, BMW Motorsport and Alpina shoehorned the 3.2-litre M30 straight-six engine into the relatively cramped engine bay of the box-shape BMW. So cramped in fact, that if you ordered one of the roughly 200 that were produced, you had to choose between power steering or aircon, you couldn't have both. You did get ABS as an option, and it was welcomed thanks to the 147kW output of the engine. There was no traction control or airbags – here, in a crash; you died like a real man.

As loved as the E30 333i is, it's not the one that really has me giddy though. My first experiences in an E30 were considerably less than favourable and it's a car that I never really connected with, for a multitude of reasons; I wouldn't send it a friend request, let's put it that way. While I enjoyed my drive in this historic piece of South African motoring, my mind was always off to one side.

Alongside that lovely example sat a shape that was unmistakably 70s Italian.  One would think that this would be out of place, an Italian design under the architecture of a BMW venue, but it was as close to its racetrack home as it could be.

Echoes of the Lotus Esprit, DeLorean DMC-12 and believe it or not, a little Lancia Delta met the eyes. Lower, wider and more pugnacious than one imagines. To many, the form of a unicorn, a fabled creature as elusive as Loch-Ness or Big Foot, especially on our shores. Long flowing lines extending from the front and running all the way to the back in one, seemingly uninterrupted, edge. A nose, low and sharp, with the trademark BMW kidney grille a seeming afterthought, in the way that the horseshoe grille of the Bugatti EB110 appears unnatural.

The profile, a wedge. A slab of 1970s cheese with an engine in the middle. It could be a Pantera, Urraco or most certainly an Esprit. Angular and precise. Minimal fuss over swage lines and indentations. Sheet metal minimalistic in its approach. The rear, little more than an enclosure for the 3.5-litre M88 straight-six with its individual throttle bodies and mechanical fuel injection system.

The BMW M1, initially a joint effort between Lamborghini and BMW that saw the Italian firm retreat, leaving the Germans to finish the job (sound familiar?), was created to compete in the World Championship for Sports Cars in Group 5 but a sudden change of the regulations saw the BMW M1 failing to meet the standards set out by the ruling body at the time. Rather than abandon the project completely, a One-Make series was developed for the M1 and acted as a curtain-raiser for several Formula 1 races.

After a relaxing lunch, it was my turn to get behind the wheel of the low-slung, classic sports car. This journey starts on the “wrong” side of the car, with the steering wheel on the left, it conforms to 66% majority of the world that drives on the right hand side of the road. It's not a problem, I owned a left-hand drive car for many years and you only need to wind down the window twice before you remember which side the gear lever is on.

I fall into the car. Much like the i8, spiritual successor to the M1, alighting is not a graceful process and best suited to Eastern European Circus acts. A process further complicated by the relatively large and considerably upright, leather bound three-spoke steering wheel. It's dark and sombre in the cabin, despite the large windscreen and aggressive rake; it's small too. No larger than the cockpit of a Nissan 1400 bakkie, with flat panel design elements from the corresponding era.

I'm twisted, I note. I'm facing forwards, straight out the windscreen, but my legs are pointed somewhere down the road, off to the right. Ah, the Lamborghini / Giugiaro / Lancia DNA runs thick here. The footwell is tight, but all the pedals have that tactile feel, an exponential resistance to input.

The gearbox is a dogleg first. This means that first gear is, and remember, this is a left-hand drive, left and down, not up. Second gear is towards the center and up, with third directly below it. Suddenly, the steering wheel being positioned on what I'm accustomed to as the passenger side, is a non-event in comparison. I find neutral and depress the clutch.

Turn the key and surprisingly quick, the engine barks to life. The straight six is still longitudinally mounted, not transversely like you would get in a Muira or Dino. Still the pipes running out the back are short and the bark emitted takes me straight back to my childhood. Motoring is so much more than just a tactile interaction. It's a complete sensory experience, although I don't recommend licking anything. It's the beauty of the metal, leather, glass and rubber. It's the smell of hot engines, heated brakes and unburnt fuel. It's the sound of a thousand metal components working in symphony, converting dead dinosaurs into noise in a way that sometimes words alone cannot describe.

I pull away and get a feel for the clutch and the steering. It may be mid-engined with the weight off the nose, but without assistance, it's weighty and purposeful. And that's at parking lot speeds.

It's all connected. Sure it's a term you hear brandied about, driver's cars, but what do they mean by it? For me, one of those aspects is a mechanical connection. The feel of the controls and the feedback that you get from the inputs. Changing gears in a BMW M1 is something that requires effort. Not the hard hammer and chisel approach needed with a Land Rover Defender for instance, but rather a precise, purposeful tug at the lever with a fair amount of precision and finesse to boot. It's easy to miss-shift it, you won't be snap-changing in a hurry, but the satisfying ‘thunk’ of selecting the next gear, followed by the cacophony of the M88 motor as you reapply the throttle, is a sensation that is lost. It makes me sad. Too many of the modern generation will never know what this feels like, missing out on the satisfaction.

The first stretch of road is less than ideal. It’s a pockmarked patchwork of uneven bitumen that sends vibrations and seemingly unwanted feedback through the chassis. I appreciate these notions rather than view them with disdain. It’s the palpable connection that I love. The steering lightens up, but only marginally. The throttle is still pleasantly stiff.

Gathering a little pace, the motor starts to change its tune. It livens up, tilts its head from side to side, cricking its neck and it limbers up, bending over to touch its toes. It’s ready.

I plant the throttle and it comes alive. It’s not a rev-happy motor, and performance, in all honesty, isn’t mind blowing. But it is quick. In this modern age of direct injection, high compression ratios and turbochargers we’ve been spoiled with instantaneous acceleration and sub-5second 0-100km/h a times. This car will not do that. But for 1978, it certainly was amazingly fast and powerful. And that’s what this car is – a time machine.

This is the closest you will get to climbing into a time capsule and going back to a time of Argentina winning their first FIFA World Cup at home, to the birth of Garfield, and Margaret Thatcher as the Prime Minister of the UK.

Each and every shift reminds me that I’m in a classic sports car (it would have been considered a super car in its day too). The steady decline of the revs as I ease off the throttle, the direct but lazy gear shift followed by the raspy bark of the individual throttle bodies behind my head as I ply on with the next gear keep my thoughts cemented in the late 70s and early 80s. The suspension is now more comfortable, the steering more precise, the aerodynamics slowly being awoken from their physics-induced slumber. I get lost in an 80s soundtrack, a mechanical matrimony with a car I hardly know. I briefly imagine what would be required to drive this machine at race pace but relegate that thought on the basis that I know I’m not man enough for the task. This is a car from a time when sex was safe and motorsports was dangerous.

I’m driving one of only 457 BMW M1 Sports Cars every built and I’m doing it at some respectable speeds too. It sounds and feels proper; it’s an insight into where the BMW brand and us, as a human race, have come from. The fact that BMW SA are prepared to conserve and revive this aspect of their heritage is nothing shy of inspirational; I wish more manufacturers would adopt similar strategies, to remind us, and them of where we have come from. I wish that each and every enthusiast were afforded the opportunity to check an experience such as this off their Bucket List. While I never dreamed of one day driving a BMW M1 (it just seemed impossible), I have now. I now have amazing memories and a revived passion for classic motoring. The 5-year old in me is bouncing off the walls.

Check out our YouTube channel, https://youtube.com/autotradersa for our video of the drive and more thoughts on this special machine.