Arguably, BMW's finest all-around powerplant is the
velvety, robust 4.0-liter V-8 introduced in late 1993, and its
most appealing sedan platform is the still-beautifully
proportioned 5-series. A marriage of the two should be
luxo-sport-sedan heaven on earth, and we were mightily
impressed with the 540i when we first laid hands and test gear
on it (September 1993).
But good as it was, we missed
something. The snap, the punch, the sparkle of unabashed
motoring delight wasn't quite there, even though the test
figures compared well with those of the six-cylinder 535i that
the new V-8 car replaced. The transmission was the culprit.
Even an excellent five-speed automatic is still an automatic,
and what we really wanted along with the lusty V-8 was the
positive control and slushless power delivery of a manual
gearbox.
Apparently, BMW wanted it, too. Because among the 1995
improvements to the 5-series line is the availability of a
six-speed manual in the flagship 540i.
But the change is
more than just another way to fill that hole between the
engine and the driveshaft. Assuming that anyone interested in
the finer control of a shift-for-myself gearbox will also
appreciate a little sharper feel overall, the BMW development
engineers whipped up some stiffer suspenders and a pair of
deeper-contour front seats. The sportification is a standard
bundle with the six-speed, included in the suggested retail
price of $52,152. The automatic 540i starts out $650 cheaper
and avoids the six-speed's $1300 guzzler tax. After lux tax,
it's just $50,007.
There is no mechanical wizardry involved in the new
specification. The six-speed is adapted from the one in the
850i coupe. Its ratios through fifth gear are about the same
as those in the smaller-sibling 530i's five-speed, and then
there's a 0.83:1 overdrive sixth. The suspension tuning
represents a modest move in the direction of the
no-longer-imported-but-never-to-be-forgotten M5: stiffer
anti-roll bars and fractionally shorter, firmer springs.
Upgrades to the tires and wheels, steering ratio, and brake
rotors -- which helped give the M5 intoxicating roadworthiness
-- are not part of the 540i manual package, but note that this
1995 car still costs substantially less than the $56,600 tag
the M5 carried in 1990.
More to the point, that price
undercuts the stickers on LS400s and Q45s today. Although
those are immaculately refined (and auto-only) luxocruisers,
they cannot approach the way the six-speed 540i manages the
sweet schizophrenia of the sporting luxury automobile.
True, having six transmission ratios is overkill, given the
low-rev thrust and high-rev smoothness of this V-8. We could
run around happily using just odd-numbered gears. Rpm drops
from fifth to sixth are piffling below autobahn speeds (from
2400 to 2000 at 60 mph, but 3950 to 3300 at 100). But
"six-speed" is currently a catchy technical fillip, so what
the heck?
Around town, the 282-hp 32-valve V-8 burbles
contentedly, responding instantly to the throttle and feeding
flexible torque through a smooth and nicely weighted clutch.
The elongated, polished-wood shift knob feels great -- whether
you grasp it as if preparing to squeeze off a .44 round or to
throw a fastball. It stirs up all those gears through linkage
that is essentially perfect: moderate in both effort and
travel, with positive gates and a minimum of freeplay.
