[954Stealth]

[u2b]http://youtu.be/saIOr3L7gcw[/u2b]

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“Wear earplugs,” they told me before I strapped into a 1979 race-prepped BMW M1. But then I heard the mechanics warming the engine before practice. Braaaap, braaap. The motor wailed with each prod of the throttle. My goosebumps turned to hives. I made an executive decision: I was going naked.

The M1 was BMW’s glorious diversion. Conceived in the mid-1970s to meet homologation racing requirements, BMW originally contracted with Lamborghini to build it. Lamborghini designed a mid-engine tube frame chassis and fitted in BMW’s straight six engine and five-speed manual. Somewhere along the way, things went sour, and BMW took the project back in house. And then, the Germans started a one-make M1 racing series called Procar that ran during F1 weekends for two seasons, 1979 and 1980. Niki Lauda won the first championship, Nelson Piquet the second. And then, just like that, it was over.

Many of the cars survived, like the one currently owned by BMW North America that I drove at this year’s Monterey Historics at Mazda Raceway. While the street M1 made 276 horsepower, the Procar versions were far stouter with around 450. The cars weighed less than 3000 pounds.

Instructions were surprisingly brief before I set out: Shift at 8500, but you can carry a few hundred more rpm if needed. Watch the warning lights, one for oil pressure, the other for water temperature. And you’ll need a few laps to warm the massive slicks. There wasn’t much time, just one 20-minute practice session on Thursday before two races on Saturday. They didn’t need to tell me to bring it home unscathed.

Common wisdom says that mid-engine cars from the era are diabolical, prone to understeer before mysteriously switching to snap oversteer. The alien driving position doesn’t help, the steering wheel felt far away and the pedals too close. All of that might be manageable alone, but I’d be sharing the track with a couple dozen similarly valuable vintage race cars. Drips of sweat stung my eyes even before I fired the engine.

BMW must have known something the other exotic marques didn’t. From the first turn I knew I could lean on the M1. The manual steering had the right amount of effort, just enough to tell how much grip remained. Unless I was really sloppy with the brakes when entering a corner, the rear end stayed planted.

But really, who cares about the handling? The motor’s the thing here, a brilliant reminder of why we all love the BMW straight six. From about 4500 rpm up, there’s just this glorious smooth buildup of power until the thing uncorks around 7500. There is not one trace of vibration, only the tingling wail of the engine breathing through six individual open throttle bodies. If I had to live with one engine forever, this would be it.

As for the racing, don’t believe what they tell you that vintage races are parades. In the first one, two cars got together on the front straight—at the start—and both crashed heavily into the wall. By the second race, I’d gotten so comfortable in the M1 that when I saw a gaping hole on the outside of turn two, I couldn’t help myself but dive in.

Such a maneuver is usually a suicide mission. The outside of any turn is typically coated with grit and therefore slick. Plus if someone on the inside gets squirrelly, you’re the bullseye. But the M1 had grip to spare—our VBOX logger said 1.8 g—so I arced effortlessly around, passing several cars in the process.

And then, as I watched a turbo Porsche 911 spit out a cloud of smoke and scoot ahead, sanity, or at least common sense, returned. I eased off, content to listen as the engine charged to redline and then upshift to hear it again. I was told I finished fifth or maybe fourth, but what pleased me most was knowing that I made the right call and skipped the ear plugs.


By Larry Webster August 29, 2013 / Photos by Chris Cantle
http://www.roadandtrack.com/voices/c...ves-an-IMSA-M1