All I Want for Christmas is a BMW E39 M5

You know those folks who say “don’t meet your heroes”? Yeah, they’re wrong. I finally drove an icon, and it lived up to the hype.

When BMW brought international media to Munich to sample the new plug-in hybrid M5 and M5 Touring, it didn’t just stick to new cars. To highlight the M5’s lineage, it brought an example of every single generation, from that inauspicious first E28 right through to the one the plug-in replaces. In a bold move, the company even let us drive any of the pre-turbo cars.

It was eye-opening to experience an ultra-rare E34 Touring, and hear that unique soundtrack of the fascinating yet flawed V10-powered E60. Yet it was the E39 M5 that left the biggest imprint on me.

A quarter century of bloat means that this vintage of M5 is actually just a little under an inch shorter tip-to-tail than a modern M3. The proportions are different too: the M5 is narrower and lower, with a larger glasshouse. It’s this last bit that makes the difference: the M5 is easy to place on narrow German roads, with excellent all-round visibility. Okay, safety standards weren’t what they are now back at the turn of the century. Just don’t crash it.

What might surprise you is that the older car is the heavier one. Sure, BMW blessed the V8 M5 with exotic aluminum for its suspension components, but this was a time before carbon fiber roofs. The current M3 xDrive is about a medium-sized-dog chunkier than its urgroßvater, though then you’re getting that extra driven axle and a corral 120 ponies larger. Speaking of…

The E39 was famously the first V8 M car, and one of only two models to keep turbos out of the equation. The four exhaust tips became a true-M calling card, letting folks know that yes, this is the 394-horsepower icon. The 4.9-liter, all-aluminum V8 features individual throttle bodies, unlocking right-now throttle response that can’t be matched nor faked in today’s high-tech models. This pristine BMW Classic example happily, hungrily rushes to its 7,000 rpm redline, letting out the sort of authentic, multilayered yowl that has me cruising the classifieds as soon as I get home. It’s addictive yet so approachable, a rich bass line to ride to motoring happiness. A thick wad of torque (369 pound-feet) might not be a match for a top-spec X3 these days, but the E39 still feels modern-day quick merging onto the autobahn.

The six-speed manual is perhaps the weakest part of the equation. Long throws to match the long gearing make it a ‘box you don’t want to rush. Like the rest of the car, it’s soft by modern standards, but that makes it friendly and forgiving.

Ever since the M5 went turbo a decade ago, it’s been a sledgehammer of a car, a point-shoot-arrive experience. It can be fun, but a different sort of fun, a shallower one.

The E39 isn’t that, in any way. The steering is beautifully weighted but comparatively slow; the suspension, supple. You don’t point daddy M5 into a corner; you pour it in, feeling the weight ebb and flow through the like-new leather. Marvel at the feedback the recirculating-ball setup (!) provides, and the surprising amount of grip those plump-sidewall tires still manage.

There’s no chance the M5 could keep pace with even an X3 M nowadays. View it in context though: in the late ‘90s, this would demo any Mustang and keep every 911 bar a Turbo honest.

Neither of those could transport you and three friends in as much comfort as the M5 either. Just about everything in here is high quality: if it isn’t leather, it’s metal or soft-touch plastic. The controls click with a steely precision, the doors close with a reassuring thunk. The E39 feels made for wills, to be passed down from generation to generation.

This wasn’t the only classic I drove on this day. I bookended it with the earlier E34—the first M5 Touring!—and the later E60. Within that context, it’s clear the E39 was an inflection point for the super sedan: the platonic ideal for fast four-doors. It’s plenty quick, involving enough to be entertaining, and still properly luxurious. No wonder multiple colleagues own examples. I want to join the club, but I’ll happily accept an assist from Saint Nick. You can’t drive an E39 M5 and not believe in miracles.

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