So there I was, cruisin’ off to the Secret Car Club get-together on Saturday morning—think of Cars ’n’ Coffee without all the formalities—where I was dutifully entertained as a few Cobras (real and otherwise) rolled by, along with the obligatory Ferraris. There were some wonderful classics, like a brown-on-brown Bugatti and two—two!—Jaguar XK120 roadsters. And that unicorn of supercars, the McLaren P1, was sighted in white.
Me, I was taken with the M5s.
I have been told that the original idea for the M535i, the E12 progenitor of the M5, came about in order to create a sedan fast enough that Eberhard von Kuenheim’s bodyguards might be able to keep up with the BMW chairman on the Autobahns. (Perhaps he drove an M1? That would explain why the M cars got versions of the M1’s M88 engine.) It is certainly true that the M5 and M6 were both very, very fast cars for their day.
Regardless of its mythology, the E28 M5 is one of the most beloved cars in our pantheon, and I was pleased to see two of them among the Saturday-morning glitterati. One had been repainted in Carbon Black, which is a subtle departure from the normal Jet Black sedans that constituted the U.S. allotment; I have always liked the nuanced irony of Carbon Black because I enjoy the odd look people give you when you try to explain why a seemingly black car is really blue—sort of like the ghost flames on my roadster, but sometimes those are impossible to explain—compounded by the notion of a blue color named Jet Black.
You can get the effect by starting with a black base and then spray a few zillion coats of transparent blue metallic over it, stopping when you reach the desired depth and color effect you want, or when you run out of paint—or energy. That’s how you do Candy Apple Red and the like, kids, and that’s why no two Candy Apple Red hot rods are exactly the same color. Now you know.
Anyway, the Carbon Black M5 was a welcome departure—perhaps not so welcome to the purist collectors among us, but still. However, I was even more taken by the other M5. It was driven by a young man who was unstrapping his toddler from the back seat as I walked up to listen to a band of BMW fans just talking about their cars. (Hey, just park two M5s together and see how quickly a crowd forms, regardless of the Bugatti parked half a block away.)
This car was a work in progress. The Natur interior was worn, and the passenger seat had been moved over to replace the driver’s seat, with a black 5 Series seat now in the passenger side. And the hood had the scrofulous decay of the clear coat that marks a true San Diego native car.
In short, this was my kind of car, owned by my kind of guy: the kind who enjoys his BMW as he slowly but surely attends to its problems, bringing it back to its former glory as time and circumstances allow. That’s the mark of a true enthusiast, I think.
And best of all, he was enjoying an outing with his car, and with his son. By the time that kid is old enough to drive, I’ll bet that the M5 he borrows for his prom date will be as good as new—and who knows? It may pay for his college education. In the meantime, Dad has done his part to bring another generation into our clan, and I say that’s a good thing.—Satch Carlson
