Some extracts from Clarkson's ramblings over the past couple of years............. 
On the Z4M Coupe....... :x
But it won’t. Oh sure, the engine’s a masterpiece but the traction control light flickers constantly, suggesting that the suspension is so stiff the rear wheels are actually airborne half the time. So it lurches and pitches and is generally pretty horrid. Couple this to brakes that are too sharp, a clutch that requires practice and a steering system that’s been toughened up — but not enough — and you’re left with something rather underwhelming.
It’s probably the first disappointing BMW M car I’ve ever driven.
If you want this sort of car, the Porsche Gayman is an obvious rival. It goes harder but is deeply embarrassing to be seen in. So what I’d do is buy the soft-top Z4 M instead. Or if you want something really fun for the weekend, buy a digger.
On the Z4M roadster.....
The thing is, though: it did work with the Z4. This was a car that, quite simply, came too soon. Because now, when I see one, I think it’s a striking crisp and modern effort; much nicer to behold than the Mercedes SLK and a million times better than the push-me-pull-you Porsche Boxster.
So when I heard that BMW was going to let its motor sport division have a fiddle, it sounded like something truly wonderful would result. I love BMW’s M cars, and when I heard the Z4 was going to get the M3’s 3.2 litre straight six I was priapic with anticipation.
The best looking two-seater sports car with the best sporting engine of them all. Theoretically the best combination since someone said: “I wonder what cranberry juice would taste like if you put some vodka in it.”
Well, I’m sorry, but Bangle said that his influence for the Z4 was the Guggenheim museum in Bilbao. BMW had plainly had enough, so it booted its American whiz-kid upstairs, where he could do less harm. And that’s a pity, because it was at this exact moment that I realised that the “flame-surfaced” Z4 is just as striking and wonderful as the building that inspired it;
Then one day I arrived at the track to find, sitting in the early morning desert sunshine, a BMW Z4-M.
Oh dear. This was a bit like sending a food critic to the best restaurant in the world and presenting him with a Big Mac. It looked all wrong, parked among the Vipers and the Ferraris and the hyper-tuned Mustangs. It looked boring and grey. A Liberal Democrat in a sea of Monster Raving Loonies.
With a limp heart and not much enthusiasm I eased out onto the track and, with my mind in neutral, set off to slither about for the cameras.
The thing is, though, that after a short while it became screamingly obvious that despite the girl-next-door looks and the miserable 3.2 litres of homo-power, this car was head and shoulders above everything else I’d driven out there.
Where a Viper or a ’Vette shouts and waves its arms about, the little Beemer just gets on with the job of going fast and telegraphing messages to the seat of your pants and your fingertips, instantly and with no ambiguity at all. Out there in the desert, it was a sniper’s rifle in a field of howitzers and mortars.
On the Z4M Coupe....... :x
But it won’t. Oh sure, the engine’s a masterpiece but the traction control light flickers constantly, suggesting that the suspension is so stiff the rear wheels are actually airborne half the time. So it lurches and pitches and is generally pretty horrid. Couple this to brakes that are too sharp, a clutch that requires practice and a steering system that’s been toughened up — but not enough — and you’re left with something rather underwhelming.
It’s probably the first disappointing BMW M car I’ve ever driven.
If you want this sort of car, the Porsche Gayman is an obvious rival. It goes harder but is deeply embarrassing to be seen in. So what I’d do is buy the soft-top Z4 M instead. Or if you want something really fun for the weekend, buy a digger.
On the Z4M roadster.....
The thing is, though: it did work with the Z4. This was a car that, quite simply, came too soon. Because now, when I see one, I think it’s a striking crisp and modern effort; much nicer to behold than the Mercedes SLK and a million times better than the push-me-pull-you Porsche Boxster.
So when I heard that BMW was going to let its motor sport division have a fiddle, it sounded like something truly wonderful would result. I love BMW’s M cars, and when I heard the Z4 was going to get the M3’s 3.2 litre straight six I was priapic with anticipation.
The best looking two-seater sports car with the best sporting engine of them all. Theoretically the best combination since someone said: “I wonder what cranberry juice would taste like if you put some vodka in it.”
Well, I’m sorry, but Bangle said that his influence for the Z4 was the Guggenheim museum in Bilbao. BMW had plainly had enough, so it booted its American whiz-kid upstairs, where he could do less harm. And that’s a pity, because it was at this exact moment that I realised that the “flame-surfaced” Z4 is just as striking and wonderful as the building that inspired it;
Then one day I arrived at the track to find, sitting in the early morning desert sunshine, a BMW Z4-M.
Oh dear. This was a bit like sending a food critic to the best restaurant in the world and presenting him with a Big Mac. It looked all wrong, parked among the Vipers and the Ferraris and the hyper-tuned Mustangs. It looked boring and grey. A Liberal Democrat in a sea of Monster Raving Loonies.
With a limp heart and not much enthusiasm I eased out onto the track and, with my mind in neutral, set off to slither about for the cameras.
The thing is, though, that after a short while it became screamingly obvious that despite the girl-next-door looks and the miserable 3.2 litres of homo-power, this car was head and shoulders above everything else I’d driven out there.
Where a Viper or a ’Vette shouts and waves its arms about, the little Beemer just gets on with the job of going fast and telegraphing messages to the seat of your pants and your fingertips, instantly and with no ambiguity at all. Out there in the desert, it was a sniper’s rifle in a field of howitzers and mortars.
