The tip of the speedometer’s red needle walks past 180mph. There cannot, you think fleetingly, be much more to give. But the speed continues to build. The road remains clear. Three empty lanes. The barrier to your left is a single unending smear of unrecognisable grey. You grit your teeth and keep the accelerator planted. The revs keep rising. Wind noise and a pitched howl assault your ears. The tachometer reads over 8000rpm, still climbing. You feel like you’re strapped to the nose of an express train, barrelling unstoppably towards the horizon. And then the transmission shifts up. Up!
In the distance, framed fleetingly in the amber section of the head-up display, a silhouette catches your eye. Slowly, you lift off the accelerator. The crescendo of the V10 in front of you abates, the buffeting eases, and unbroken lines on the tarmac gradually separate into steady dash-dash-dashes. The object ahead takes shape, solidifying into a grey mass, red spots and a lone white flash on its rear. Another car. Your gut was correct. No blasting past ambling autobahn traffic in the dawn’s early light; you let the coupé continue to wind down, from storming to sauntering, as the high-octane mist lifts.
Correctly, as you relax and let your heart settle, you muse that your E63-generation BMW M6 cannot be standard. It must have been fettled. After all, they were restricted to 155mph when new. But BMW did say it would exceed 200mph, unlimited, and you’ve proof – indicated, at least – that yours is seemingly capable of that. The box has been comprehensively ticked: you wanted a powerful coupé with phenomenal performance, and it set you back only £10,000. Ten grand. For a 200mph-capable car with an F1-inspired engine that’ll make even BMW deriders nod approvingly.
