The symbol M Meeting up with M’s founder in an M5 CS

More than a simple letter, ‘M’ is a symbol that signifi es one of the motor industry’s most powerful entities. To mark 50 years of BMW M, we strap into the M5 CS and The meet up with M’s original boss… Words: Richard Lane Photos: Olgun Kordal

symbol symbol M

Le Mans, September 1968. Not June? Not this year. This year, the 24-hour race was postponed after summer-long civil unrest in the staunchly patriarchal France of Charles de Gaulle. But that’s another story. As far as we’re concerned, the story is at Le Mans, in September. It’s the final leg of the World Sportscar Championship and the decider between Porsche and Ford. The GT40s are narrow favourites. However, one unbelievably juicy and almost incomprehensible sub-plot brought about by the calendar change is that Ford’s new motorsport chief is at the wheel of the #33 works Porsche 908.

Fast-forward 20 years. The same man is tasked with leading Mercedes’ return to factory motorsport operations after a 33-year hiatus. Mercedes went on to secure the 1989 World Sports Prototype Championship. The more significant development that year is our man establishing an all-new junior driver programme for the Silver Arrows. Its inaugural trio of signings includes the fresh-faced son of German bricklayer and devoted father Rolf Schumacher.

Yet, here’s the remarkable thing about Jochen Neerpasch. The exquisite intrigue of 1968, the rehabilitation of Mercedes into motorsport, giving probably the greatest F1 driver of all time his first big break: any one of them would be legacy-defining events for most. But that’s not quite the case for this 83-year-old.

Neerpasch is best known for founding BMW Motorsport GmbH in 1972. Thus, this year marks 50 years of perhaps the greatest entity the car industry ever gave to petrolheads of ordinary means, the M car.

So happy birthday, M! What better way to celebrate than strapping into the M5 CS and meeting up with the founder of M?

MONOLITHIC M

If the Alcantara-wrapped wheel and M Carbon buckets somehow didn’t give the game away, you’d know you were inside something special just by opening your ears and tuning into the induction hiss and unvarnished engine note. It had to be the CS for our trip. Big, bad M saloons have always been superb in this respect. Speed, handling, comfort and just enough specialness in the powertrain and cabin make it so.

But here’s the thing: rather than torching those strengths in pursuit of fractionally quicker lap-time performance, as you might expect of any gold-wheeled, bonnet-vented flagship derivative, the ‘hardcore’ CS only enhances them. It moves with a silky deftness. There’s a softness and a willingness to breathe with the road.

It’s a remarkable device: monolithic in its stability on the autobahn as the V8 fires it to the far side of 290 km/h, yet flowing with responsive poise when on those fast, smooth Bavarian country roads. Is it a masterpiece? Without doubt. When you consider what this car wants to be and how it fulfils that multi-faceted role, you might even go further and chalk it up as the best car in the world. The sheer quality of the M5 CS’s blend of ride and handling and how it disguises its 1 950 kg should act as the benchmark for all future M division products, especially the electric ones. This incredible super-saloon is a beacon for M, yet of its own making.

A Chat with Neerpasch

“Totally unexpected” is how Neerpasch describes it from the plush confines of a modern BMW M Motorsport truck in the Nürburgring paddock. “I got a call late in 1971 … and Bob Lutz said he wanted to reorganise BMW’s motorsport activities.” At that time, Lutz was vice president of sales at BMW, having himself been pinched from Ford. Lutz’s problem was that he wanted Neerpasch at the helm, and Neerpasch’s problem was that the Capri RS he had developed dominated the race track. Why on earth forsake it all?

“This could be a chance, let’s say, to have a project for the future,” said Neerpasch. From today’s vantage point, it seems ludicrous that M’s existence could ever have been in doubt. However, Neerpasch wouldn’t sign up until he had a cast-iron guarantee that 1 000 lightweight CSL versions of the E9 would be made to homologate something that could vanquish the Capris.

The Batmobile was born. This was a real lift-o moment for M. Come to the end of the season, the Capris and the privateer CSLs had been beaten, although Neerpasch and company still weren’t out of the woods. The oil crisis in 1974 saw M resorting to selling branded rally jackets (cool then, sub-zero today, if you can find one) and Paul Roschedesigned Formula 2 engines. It was touch and go, but M survived. More importantly, the road-focused creations for which M would become widely worshipped were also starting to materialise, such as the E12based M535i.

“We were flexible like this,” said Neerpasch. “We took the 5 Series and put the larger 735i engine in, di erent dampers, brakes, wheels, and you couldn’t see from the outside that it was a fast car. The dealers noticed and asked [if they could] have a car like this.” Well, wouldn’t you? Then there was the fabulous M1 of 1978, about which there’s a distinct tone of regret in Neerpasch’s voice. This mid-engined supercar, of which only 453 street versions were made, is a stunning signifier of M’s early ambition and was very much the chief’s baby.

Alas, a direct hit never came. It’s a complicated story involving the development of the M88 straight-six (sire to so many outstanding M engines of yore) and the star-studded Procar series. Eventually, regulation changes in sportscar racing killed the M1 project early, but what’s interesting from a roadlegal perspective is that Neerpasch still feels the idea has a place. “When I left BMW [in 1981], the priority was F1,” he said. “I think it was a mistake because they forgot about the M1.” It is his belief an M1 is still missing from the line-up today. A