At Worlds End | BMW M3 CS Touring

I did not.

I didn’t much fancy explaining to BMW why their £120-odd-thousand-pound super-estate was currently buried in the tyre wall, while a recovery truck driver sucked air through his teeth.

Instead, I set myself a different challenge. You see, I often criticise these ultra-powerful modern cars for being, well… a bit pointless. Tremendous fun, yes. But largely unusable in the real world.

So the question was simple. What would the M3 CS Touring actually be like to live with for a day?

Inside, there’s a lot going on. Leather. Alcantara. Buttons. Paddles. Screens. Glowing LED’s. More carbon fibre than you can shake a breadstick at. Did I mention buttons?

At a shade over 6’1, the lightweight M carbon fibre seats adjust nicely to my frame, though whilst the curvature of the seat back puts your head at an unusual angle, they are fantastically comfortable.

Off I go, 30-minutes to Haywards Heath to collect my assistant for the day. A quick tinker with whatever BMW calls the dial in the centre console to engage full ‘sport mode’ on all faculties.

Assistant collected. First issue identified.

In the pursuit of lightness, the CS sits about 15kg lighter than the standard Touring thanks to a carbon bonnet, carbon front splitter, carbon rear diffuser, those glorious M carbon bucket seats and a full length carbon fibre centre console. Without cupholders.

With my newly promoted ‘Caffeine Transportation Supervisor’ riding shotgun, we began our journey East, keen to escape what passes for a road surface in Sussex. To the end of civilization as we know it.

Dungeness.

Every time I come here it’s grey. Grey sky, grey sea, grey shingle. Like the colour palette of a Victorian ghost story.
Which meant the car stood out magnificently.

At this juncture, I’d like to confess that the ‘SportPlus’ suspension setting I’d boldly opted for 45-minutes ago was turning into a bit of an ordeal. Whilst I battled to keep the Touring from skittering across the road at every bump and dip, my passenger was fighting for her life against a viciously pointy cheese straw that was threatening to take an eye out.

Sitting in a layby, I once again delved into the menu to soften things back up. I’d first looked at the huge wrap-around LCD screen with a bit of contempt, but from the driver's seat, the hoop of the steering wheel neatly splits the screen into two distinct sections, it’s really rather smart.

My passenger (a Gen-Z representative of the modern world) immediately complimented the size and clarity of the display. Both of us, however, were slightly overwhelmed by the sheer number of customisation options. There are menus. And submenus. And menus inside the submenus, and it was only by sheer dumb-luck that I found the menu needed to put the suspension back into comfort mode.

Still, even I (as the company Luddite) managed to connect my phone, load a map and get some music playing without accidentally activating some kind of launch sequence and wiping a small European municipality off the map. So, points there.

Lighthouse stairs climbed, desolate landscape photos acquired, back in the Touring in search of more B-roads.
By now the M3 was starting to feel like an old pair of jeans. I’d got used to what initially felt like a very large, intimidating car and felt eager to press on a bit and see what this engine was made of.

Speaking of, let me give you the rundown real quick.

Under those bonnet stripes sits a 3.0-litre twin-turbo S58 straight-six. The CS sits somewhere between the M3 Competition and the more rough round the edges, M4 CSL. Numbers? 542bhp and 650 N.m of torque, all channeled neatly through an 8-speed Steptronic gearbox and BMW’s X-Drive power deployment system.

Then there’s the speed.

The car is constantly reminding you how fast it is. There’s a digital speedo through the steering wheel. Above that, a head-up display projecting numbers onto the windscreen. And if you drift over the indicated limit it starts ‘tutting’ at you, like a disappointed neighbour.

Which is slightly ironic.

Because this thing accelerates with such ridiculous ease that just looking at the throttle will have you doing 30.
Touch it? That’s 60.

Press it properly and, well, there’s no elegant way to phrase this. It simply, ‘fff-lys off’. Vaminos. Muy rapido.

It’s not until an hour later, sitting in the warmth of The Bell Inn in Smarden, a pint of stout and a trio of home cooked meat pies before me (well worth a visit) that I can fully reflect on the M3. Staring out the 17th century windows to the half empty carpark, the M3 shines like a lighthouse of colour amidst the grey SUV’s.

Is it then, the ultimate dad-wagon? It’s certainly powerful enough, possibly overkill to be honest for any real world application, but I wouldn't think that comes as any great surprise.

Is it practical? Well, with the seats folded down there’s 1,500-litres of haulage real estate, but considering the price tag, I don’t think anyone will be using the CS to take the christmas tree to the tip anytime soon.

So where does that leave us? Office bragging rights, definitely. Everyday road car? If you can make your peace with the reality that 70% of the CS’s potential power and handling will go unused, it’s a joy to drive. It's pretty frugal on fuel consumption and the doors are short enough that you can still get out in a tight carpark without looking like a complete berk.