M5

My new friend, Peter, owns a BMW M5.

I met him for the first time today when our kids got together for a play date. Until now, I've only heard about him through Annie and haven't had the chance to meet him because of my work schedule. But today, after a meeting at church our family went over to their house to hang out for a few hours.

Peter was generous enough to let me take his 500HP baby out for a spin.

The M5 is a sick car.

The SMG paddle-shifter is so responsive and fun/easy to use it feels like a Playstation2 peripheral. The high-revving V10 also propels the car to velocities only video game junkies have ever 'experienced'. The M5 feels like a Lamborghini Gallardo. (oh, did I mention that Peter owns a Lamborghini Gallardo too?) No, I didn't get to drive the Gallardo but Peter did take me for a whirl.

I swear, the M5 is so ridiculous it could easily run door handle to door handle with the Lambo and you could do it while listening to Chopin on your six-disc changer and with two adults in the backseat.

I drove the M5 faster than my wife would have liked but slower than it wanted to go. I'm convinced that if the M5's V10 could pick it's own clothes it would be dressed in open-wheeled fiberglass and carry a huge wing on it's rump. The seven-speed (7 GEARS!) tranny allowed the engine to easily rev up to the 6K rpm zone (and beyond) without so much as a slight hint of hesitation. Of course I wouldn't go near the redline (I think around 8200) because … well... just because. As a matter of fact, Peter asked that I didn't take it past 6500 and I accidentally took it to 7000. Of course, I was too busy trying to avoid the cars that were zipping past me like they were parked on I680 to watch the tach very carefully. Sorry, Peter!

Forget the 350Z, forget the S2000, forget the M3, and even the 911 Turbo. The M5 is now my official one-and-only dream car.