Inline fix
13 Aug '08
Text: Rohin Nagrani
Photos: Pablo Chaterji
Getting a BMW nut to try an inline-six once is not sane. Then how can you justify the mistake twice?
EXTRACTED FROM BS MOTORING, MARCH 2008 ISSUE
Thirty years ago, I didn't exist. Thirty years ago the BMW M1 was still
on the drawing board and the Motorsport division was just a fledgling
arm with some the 2002 tii to its credit. The inline-six was a
phenomenon, but the one that took the credit was the M1, the one that
made six-cylinders stacked longitudinally the best thing to happen to
baby boomers since The Doors.
It sounds strange to most who think V8s are where it's at, but
inline-sixes are what drove me to love BMWs. Compact engines with a
four digit number starting with three are what tingled me all along.
The 3.0-litre 231 bhp engine on the E46 330i for instance. Or the great
278 bhp 3.5-litre that not only powered the M1, it even took the E12 M5
and the M635 CSi into the stratosphere, and beyond. Heck, I can't
believe that the two six-cylinder engines I ever wanted to take a shot
at would come together.
The protagonist of this story is the car owned by Aniruddh Kasliwal, a friend of BSM.
Let me admit, the E60 BMW 530i you see in this pictures was around to
play second fiddle to what is a true BMW classic – the E24 BMW 635 CSi.
Yes, the same 3500cc engine that powered some of the great first M cars
that I mentioned before. And it doesn't even feel its age. Mind you, if
some sane enthusiasts got together to make a list of the ten best
engines of all time, this one has a very good chance of figuring on it.
The idea of an inline-six isn't new, and especially not to BMW.
Sometime in 1917 when the Red Baron was busy turkey shooting over the
northern skies of France, an engineer by the name of Max Friz figured
that the typical yaw movement of the aircraft was due to the nose heavy
configuration of the then used engines, making them susceptible to
crash during takeoff and landing. His engineering skills taught him
that the light airframes could do with the use of a inline-six that are
inherently more stable. Not making matters any more complex in post-war
Germany, BMW adopted its war techniques into its cars and from 1933 its
saga with inline-sixes began. Stability and balance drove BMW to insane
heights of engineering, which is why, even today you find the block
kissing the firewall, the need to get a 50:50 balance.
The
530i here carries forward the tradition rather well. Unlike the
standard cast-iron blocks of the 1200cc 303 from 1933, this one has an
aluminium core with magnesium for the upper and lower crankcases – a
sign of extreme composite construction. For India, BMW have opted for a
spec that reads as 255 bhp@6500 rpm and 30.5 kgm@2400
rpm. Remember to now read the specific output, because if there's
anything BMW will try to do is to get the bhp/litre figure to 100. The
35i series and its twin-turbos blow out 306 bhp, but get this, it's
still the same 2996cc. So you get an idea of how much punishment this
engine can withstand.
Fire up the engine and the sound of premium unleaded being burnt
begins to sound like the New York Philharmonic. Just like BMW's
'smellios' who work around the clock to get the perfect balance of
interior perfumes to act on your olfactory senses, BMW must have its
own 'audio-tors', people who try to make every engine sound like a
wet-dream. It has a distinct rumble but gently get the throttle to work
and it develops a mind of its own. From a pootle to a full blown wail,
it doesn't take long to alter character. Don't exert the engine and it
will keep forward motion in 6th, the car somewhere around the 80 kph
mark and the rpm gauge refusing to decide if 1700 rpm sounds okay or
1800 sounds like overkill. Release all thoughts of playing nanny and it
will do a double whammy on you. Push down the gears, once, twice,
thrice, four times then watch the badge on the nose actually turn into
a propeller and the doors turn into wings. From a standing start, it
has already left the equally powerful Audi A6 3.2 in its rear-view
mirror. At 60 kph it starts to give its more torquey brother, the 525d
a complex. At 100 kph, it has gobbled up around 250 metres and with 7.5
seconds on the clock it has just entered our records as the fastest
accelerating car with our road testing equipment so far. Not batting an
eyelid (in this case a corona ring), the 530i goes on to impress the
record sheets with 232 kph, as fast as we could dare to go, though
frankly it was already starting to run out of breath past 220.
All of these figures can be attributed to the new six-speed gearbox,
though I am not too much of a fan of it. It's fast alright (BMW says 40
per cent over its predecessor), but its action seems too awkward,
something like a Quick Draw McGraw.
Leave it in sport mode and the difference is more than perceptible.
Mid-range too is devastatingly good, the kind of numbers I've generally
seen on more exotic machinery.
So
at this point, the drivetrain gets a 9/10, while the ride and handling
pick up a point less. Not many will come to love that steering that
demands your utmost concentration at all times, but somehow in
isolation, I enjoyed it. Razor edged and yet well weighted. After a
while you start getting a nagging feeling, the one where the steering
wheel starts to feel too thick and a tad irritating. A mm or two less
should be it, BMW. Around corners, the car is brilliant, to a point
where you know what the rear axle is up to. Every inch around the curve
feels alive, as if there's a secret pact signed by the car and the road
in advance. The traction control fights and at a point it gives up, and
then the car bites back, bites hard and swift like a hammerhead shark.
Just as the hammer-head nosed BMW 635i starts to become a big blob in
the 530i's rear view mirror. It's not easy to take off your eyes of
what is a stunning looking car. I still can't stop viewing Pablo's
brilliant pictures on my computer, long after it headed back to
Aniruddh's garage. There's so much purpose in the design, and if you
squint your eye a bit, it looks like a cold-war jet fighter fuselage.
It fits the '80s frame to a T, you can very will picture a man in his
Ray-Ban aviators, white trousers, blue polo-neck and a neck scarf,
driving up an Alpine route with Genesis playing Tonight, tonight, tonight on the stereo.
It was also an earth-shattering car for its time. It had an ECU, and
every engine parameter could be read and studied by a workshop
computer.
This being a 1981 make has the Jetronic K-injection system, not the
Bosch Motronic unit, but even then from its 3.5-litres of cubic
capacity, it churns out an astonishing 218 bhp. Think about it, at a
time when most other engines of similar displacement struggled to nudge
200 bhp, the E24 laughed in the face of its competition. It even laughs
at a driver like me for lack of nerves of steel. When you start it up,
you can feel all the cylinders push up and down like the fists of a
heavyweight boxer. It instantly cracks open with a meaty whoosh, mechanically edged and raw, resonating with every pore in your body.
At 3500 rpm the character changes. It sounds like a rumble, something
volcanic, a burbling so distinct that it sounds like a giant vacuum
cleaner sucking it all up. In one word: glorious. At 4000 rpm it just
hits the sweet spot and from there on it carries its rumble all the way
to 6000 revs. Revs, revs and more revs. It sounds just like the books
told me when I was young. The 530i's aural pleasure sounded tame in
comparison. It felt more isolated, more refined and subdued.
No
matter what you read, the fact is, the written word never unsaid any
truth. The age-old golden era of BMWs packed up their suitcases and
headed for the Alps long before we pronounced Chris Bangle the culprit.
Technology at the cost of soul. It doesn't mean one should pick a
hammer and swing it at the iDrive. Or find a chain saw and hack all
runflats. It's about finding a mid-point between two extremes. BMWs
always developed rev hungry engines, and the modern ones don't put
their predecessors down. In fact there's more flexibility, the engines
are more capable of producing lot of torque through the range. So is
the microchip controlled gearbox. It feels right, yet something is
missing. It's like a movie that got a four star rating from a critic
instead of five, because he or she felt 'that something' was missing.
That something is the soul of balance. Not just the engine, but the
car. Whether it's the 5 Series, the 3, 7 or any other modern BMW I've
driven, they all have a lesson to learn from their older and more
mature cousin, something about ride quality. The 635 feels so much
tighter, so much plusher, so adept at dismissing potholes. It feels
like a tank, it feels so driver focused. There are none of the
distractions of a modern BMW, everything is clear, everything is where
it should be. The steering is a bit large, but it transmits all the
feel without being twitchy or nervous, despite being a much simpler
hydraulic power steering, and not the speed sensitive electronic
variety of modern day BeeEms. You are aware of the engine ticking over,
the suspension's vertical motions and the tyres' lateral movements and
yet the amount of feel is not irritating enough. That was what BMWs
were all about – transmitting feel with the right amount of occupant
isolation. That fine balance is missing in modern BMWs. Handling and
feel at the cost of ride. It's causing BMW a lot of problems, more than
the multiple platforms and large model lineup that is eating into its
profits.
It can still profit from looking back into its own history books.
Books that talk about BMW's quest for perfection. Only that the idea of
perfection now is a bit skewed, a bit hazy in Munich's HQ. It's only
requires a bit of tweaking and BMW can be back on track. Back to how it
was nearly thirty years ago.
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