When I first saw the vital statistics of the BMW M3 GTS I felt a bit sorry for the dealers trying to shift it. You can imagine the sales pitch: it comes in any colour as long as it’s Glasgow tanning-salon orange; it’s similar to the standard M3, except that, oh yes, it comes with few creature comforts, plastic windows and no back seats; and then there’s the price — £117,630. That’s £64,555 more than the standard version and just a bit more than its direct rival the Porsche 911 GT3 RS at £109,123 (which also happens to be a bit faster and more powerful). Interested?
On the face of it, I’m guessing not. But, as it turns out, you’d be wrong and I know because I’ve just driven one. Very, very fast. On an empty racetrack.
The M3 GTS was conceived as the brash, track-going sibling to the standard M3, although being a BMW it is still well-mannered enough for the road and, for some mind-boggling reason, still comes with cruise control as a non-negotiable standard. Radio and air-conditioning are, by contrast, optional. Only 150 will be made and, unlike the standard car, they will not be limited to 155mph — instead topping out at 190mph and sprinting from 0-62mph in just 4.4 seconds.
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Someone at M Power, BMW’s high-performance offshoot, clearly has a fetish for the number four. The cubic capacity of the standard M3’s engine has been upped from four litres to 4.4 litres for the GTS. Power increases by 24bhp to 444bhp and maximum torque dials in at 440Nm (325 lb ft in old money).
While the brakes are barely changed from the conventional M3, the GTS is 75kg lighter, which means they have slightly less work to do. That’s reassuring if, like me, you’re about to set off on a high-speed loop of Cadwell Park’s historic motor-racing circuit.
I have the narrow, twisting Lincolnshire track all to myself, the safety marshals are dressed in a similar hue to the car, it’s my birthday and orange happens to be one of my favourite colours. What more could you ask? The Tango-ed exterior of the GTS is broken up with a black front spoiler, a Halfords-esque touring car-inspired boot wing and black, spidery, 19in lightweight rims. You can’t deny the menace, but I’m still not totally sold on the aesthetics. You also have to do without a back seat — you get a fire extinguisher and a tangerine-coloured roll cage instead — and there are plastic (polycarbonate) side and back windows instead of glass.
I’ve also never been convinced about putting a V8 engine in the current M3 (the new model when it comes out this time next year will almost certainly return to a six-cylinder engine, probably with two turbos). But right here, right now on the drying Cadwell Park tarmac the GTS is not only making me eat my words, it’s making me dine on my own tongue.
With an operatic crescendo, the V8 makes its vocal cords heard. “The sound insulation is tailored specifically to this very special model,” says BMW. In other words, they’ve taken most of it out. You can hear every stinging, snarling, metallic decibel of the featherweight titanium exhausts. And so you should on a weapon prepped predominantly for the track.
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Within 100 yards I can feel the GTS’s edge. Because the car is hyper-receptive to all commands every millimetre of right-foot movement translates into sackfuls of instantaneous torque. The speed at which the tweaked paddle-shift gearbox snatches cogs is jaw-snapping. If there was ever going to be a transmission to sway a doubter’s mind to a double-clutch system, it would be this one. Besides, you can’t buy the GTS with anything else.
Cars that are happy on the racetrack usually like to chip passenger fillings and rearrange vertebrae. Bizarrely, the road-legal GTS is smooth and comfortable, even when my talent runs thin and we take a trip over the kerb.
With every corner and every lap, the car and I are becoming like seasoned sparring partners. It knows where you want to point and squirt it, and it answers every punch/jab/feint. But soon you’re not fighting the car, you’re tag-teaming an assault on your last lap time. This is one of my most satisfying steering-wheel experiences since 1996 — when I passed my driving test.
Adjustable suspension, a recalibrated seven-speed transmission, slightly weightier steering and almost zero understeer raise the standard M3’s sharpness to Kitchen Devils level. It promises to make any driver feel (and look) like an absolute hero. Even me.
And this is before realising that I’m not actually employing the GTS’s full clout. As with the standard M3, there’s an M Power centre-console button, which has five settings of muscle. I’d been playing on No 3. Surely, though, this version of the M3 doesn’t need such anger-management choices. At what point are you going to drive something like this and not want all the available brawn on tap at all times?
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By now I’m probably starting to win you round to the GTS. It’s a last joyful hurrah for the outgoing M3 and more than a match for the Porsche 911 GT3 RS — especially as it’s even more exclusive.
Unfortunately, as it turns out, those BMW dealers are cannier than I thought. Despite the difficult on-paper sell and the whopping price, all 150 models have been sold — including the mere 15 right-hand-drive ones destined for Britain. So, if any of those 15 customers are reading this, congratulations: you’ve bought an instant classic. You’re going to grin like Tony Blair until the oil runs out.
Jeremy Clarkson is away