I Raced A Pro-Level BMW Race Car. It Changed My Life

The E46 is the best BMW M3. It just is. It was the final one with a naturally-aspirated straight-six, it looked amazing, wasn’t overly digital and wasn’t a large car. The only true invasion of tech was the automated and obstinate single-clutch gearbox, dubbed SMG, which was thankfully an option. However, the straight-six that made it an icon became a liability when the E46 first went racing in 2000. It was outclassed, so BMW went a little nuts.

That something was the M3 GTR. This is the car that used a rules loophole to replace the traditional straight-six with the P60B40 V8. BMW had to build 10 road cars with that engine for it to be homologated. So it built them, but nobody said they had to be sold. Clever. The M3 GTR cleaned up, dominating the American Le Mans Series in 2001.

By 2002, the loophole closed. The ALMS required 100 cars to be built, which doesn’t sound that bad, but also required there be 1000 engines. An impossibility for the P60B40, so the program was scrapped in the US. BMW went back to the straight-six, an engine dubbed the P54B32, itself a development of the 3.2-liter S54 straight-six that appears in the roadgoing E46 M3.

 

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It may have lost the V8, but the amount of development work that went into the entire car since its debut was transformational, and the straight-six was no longer holding it back.

This year, for the Monterey Motorsports Reunion at Laguna Seca, BMW invited me to drive that iteration of the E46 M3 GT2, complete with a P54 that revs to 8500, a six-speed h-pattern dog box, and the killer Yokohama livery it ran in period. This chassis once housed the P60 V8, stripped of that amazing engine when it was banned. Here’s what it’s like.

Intimidating

I’ve been fortunate to have BMW ask me to drive its vintage race cars in Monterey the last few years. It’s so special, something I dreamed of but never thought I’d get to do when I first became an automotive journalist. Monterey is somewhere between a real race and an exhibition, and the classes have wide groups of cars in varying states of tune. But the one thing every car has in common is that they’re very expensive.

The M3 I’m in raced in Grand Am with Bill Auberlen and Joey Hand behind the wheel and won the championship in 2004. That makes it essentially priceless and worth more than my entire life. Most everyone else in these races owns their cars or is a pro-driver asked to compete. I’m neither of those things, so the fear of damaging the car is very real. A missed shift or a crash could result in the need to sell my children.

But there’s another aspect. Most everyone else on the grid is familiar with their cars, sometimes competing in them for years. The first time I get to see or sit in the E46 is an hour before practice. I have driven the V8 GTR, so all the controls are familiar, but that was seven years ago at a different track. This isn’t the same. Can you tell I’m making as many excuses as possible? That’s the part of racing I have down.

My first few laps of practice are full of trepidation. I need to figure out the car and what it needs to go fast. I need to remember how to get around Laguna Seca. And I need to not break the car.

It all goes well, and I end up 5th of the GT cars on track. A great showing. My next session, a day later is less positive. Everyone is faster, except me. My fastest lap is a full second slower. Sure, I spent much of the session caught in traffic but I felt like I forgot how to drive. Not great. My best time of those two sessions puts me 17th overall on the grid, exactly in the middle. Woof.

Red Mist

The first race is a quick one, 10 laps in the early afternoon. The field is stacked, mostly with 997-generation 911s but also an Oreca Viper, LMP2s and Daytona Prototypes, and Audi R8s. All I wanted to do was bring the car home and have some fun, plus I had fresh tires so maybe I could get quicker. What I didn’t expect was deep frustration and a near crash with a 911.

I fumbled the start and left way too much room on the outside into turn two. That let the 996 that started directly behind me fly through. It also made me keep my line tight out of two, which then let a 997 through. Not ideal, but still, I had 10 laps. I could get back by, I thought.

Within the first few laps, I got a run on the 997 and passed him into turn five. Done. I also hadn’t lost touch with the cars in front, so I thought there was a still a chance at a good finish. How foolish.

The 996 that banzaied around the outside at two was impossible to pass. On the exit of 11 onto Laguna’s front straight, the 911s just put their power down so well that there was no chance of catching in the M3. I was faster for literally the rest of the lap, so I realized the only real chance I’d have is to put a lot of pressure on him through two, three, and four and then make a dive into five. I needed to get by. I had to. It became an obsession.

The tough part was that he’d have to make a pretty substantial mistake out of four for me to get a run into five that’d overcome his advantage on corner exit. I filled up his mirrors and pushed him to make that mistake. That’s when it happened. He missed the apex in three and four, and got loose off exit. I took advantage, pulled out, but the door was slammed at turn in to five. Then he made a bigger mistake in turn six. One that could’ve been a disaster.

Six is the deceptively quick left-hander that leads to the Corkscrew. It has compression at the apex, so you can get back to throttle way earlier than you expect to fly up the hill. This time, I think he got back to throttle too soon and went wide, and suddenly he got loose. I was right on him when it happened and had nowhere to go, so I slammed the brakes. The wonderful brakes. If I didn’t, both cars would’ve been trashed. If I stayed in it and turned, I would’ve hit the wall. So I was glad I didn’t hit him, but then he stayed ahead and the 997 I passed earlier got ahead of both of us. A deeply frustrating experience.

Two laps later, the race ended. Thanks to attrition, I finished where I started.

Patience

The second race was different. This one was 40 minutes long with a required three-minute pit stop. Dubbed a mini-enduro, some of the cars in this race would see driver changes during the stop. It also had more pros than race one, with Jeff Segal and Marino and Dario Franchitti in 911s along with Acura GTP driver Nick Yelloly in a RealTime NSX. A lot of talent in one place.

I started in the same spot, so I took what I learned from race one and applied it. Nobody got by at the start and I settled into a rhythm. Driving the M3 went from intimidating to pleasant, I felt like I understood it. The only thing holding me back was the desire to keep it in one piece. I lost one or two positions thanks to poorly timed encounters with traffic, but then pit stops started.

While a lot of cars pitted right when the mandatory window opened, the team kept me on track till the end of the window. It turned out to be a great move. I got clear track and ran my fastest laps of the weekend. When I finally pitted, I beat out the group I was stuck behind before I came in and reentered right behind Marino Franchitti.

Of course, not everything goes to plan, and a broken Daytona Prototype saw a full course caution bunch us up. Confusion and traffic on the restart saw a 911 run me three wide past traffic into one. Damn 911s, they’re everywhere. I ended up 12th overall, fifth of the GT cars (well, it was really eighth, but the three GTs I’m not counting were more modern and running similar times to the prototypes, so I say fifth. Sorry?).

It was the best session of the weekend, and one I wish never ended.

Hell of a Car

Looking at a GT2 car from the outside makes it seem like it has to be scary. This is a real race car, it must be a handful. It’s not, it’s easy to drive, a sweetheart. Sure, the clutch is difficult when you set off, but you don’t even need it when you’re moving, a lift and blip accomplishes everything. The brakes have great initial bite and a progressive pedal. It doesn’t have traction control, but if it kicks sideways–which it likes to do on older tires–it’s super easy to catch. The steering is that classic BMW steering, feelsome and builds effort naturally. And the engine sounds like a mini McLaren F1. An all around astonishing thing.

Every day I got out of the E46, I’d leave the track in a modern M2 with a six-speed. This is a nice car, fast, comfortable, pleasant to spend time in. And while I realize that the E46 is a race car, the roadgoing M3s have a more direct connection with the driver and the road than any other modern BMW, and most modern cars. We need more cars on the road that emphasize connection and interaction. And while we’re at it, we need more high-revving engines with individual throttle bodies. They’re just better.

Top photo: BMW/Daniel Levins