M3 CSL v 911 GT3 v Impreza STi Spec C
#1
05-19-2010, 05:50 PM
M3 CSL v 911 GT3 v Impreza STi Spec C
looking through the archives, thought this was interesting.
M3 CSL v 911 GT3 v Impreza STi Spec C | Car Group Tests | Car Reviews | evo
CSL, GT3 and Impreza Spec C; three quite different cars linked by a common philosophy - each is the most finely honed, most tightly focused driver's car its maker produces. We compare them on road and track
After a drive of almost 700 miles, we're perched at the top of a small mountain near the French-German border, awaiting the arrival of the CSL. And if I'm not mistaken, the urgent but cultured induction roar now echoing through the trees below means we won't have to wait long. The bark rises and falls with the road's twists, gradually gaining volume and detail until finally the CSL bursts into view.
Wow! In the instant that determines visual hit or miss, the CSL scores a bullseye - it looks almost suckered to the road while bright sunlight spangles on its naked carbonfibre roof. With a final flourish, it storms the last straight, in-line six keening all the way to a frantic and metallic-edged 8000rpm before ba-blipp-ing tightly down through the 'box and rumbling into the parking area, its tyres coating themselves in gravel which rains into the wheelarches.
If I was asked to choose, right this second, between our three pared-back, performance-enhanced driver's cars, the 911 GT3 and Impreza Spec C wouldn't get a look in. The CSL looks sensational; cool yet menacing, trick but subtle. Don't bother wrapping it, I'll drive it home. Now.
Or maybe I won't, because once John Hayman has wriggled from the grasp of the BMW's seat, he stands holding his sweaty T-shirt off his back. 'A £58K car without air conditioning,' he tuts. Tell me about it: the temperature is still in the high 30s even though it's late afternoon, and my last stint was in the air con-less £73K Porsche. I feel like I've lost a few kilos - and I reckon I'd find them if I wrung out the GT3's driver's seat. It's galling, then, to discover that although the Subaru does have air con, its pilot, Ian Litchfield, hasn't had it turned on since Blighty 'because the cold air sends me to sleep'. If only he'd told us earlier.
Mild heat exhaustion rests on top of plain tiredness. A couple of hours before my un-Godly 4am alarm this morning, I was woken by an absolutely terrifying roll of thunder. It sounded like a Deltic Diesel wrapped in heavy blankets was falling down eight flights of stairs, bouncing off walls, punching through landings before, at the thunderclap, crashing through my bedroom ceiling. Jeez. It was as though, after more than a week of sultry heat, all the pent-up English weather was being unleashed in one go. A torrential downpour began minutes later and I nodded off as the air cooled and filled with that distinctive aroma you can almost taste; the smell of rain mixed with dust.
That was a distant memory 12 hours later on a baking autoroute at the wheel of the GT3. The outside temperature gauge showed 39deg C and hot air swirled into the cockpit through the open windows, where it mixed with hot air blowing through the facia vents. Still, GT3 versus CSL is worth the journey, I told myself.
You might be wondering why we've brought the Impreza along, though. Well, don't judge it too hastily. This Subaru is from the same mould as the BMW and Porsche; a driver's car that has been put through an intensive program of stripping back, honing and re-specifying to produce the purest, most responsive and most focused drive. Yes, it looks like a regular WRX STi, apart from its less ostentatious, carbon rear wing, but is, in fact, an Impreza like no other.
Its full title is (deep breath) Subaru Impreza WRX STi Type RA Spec C Limited, and it's an evolution of last year's very special S202 (evo 051). Some pertinent facts to chew on: a weight reduction of 90kg compared with the UK STi; a totally re-worked 4wd chassis; and a new-generation turbo flat-four that produces 335bhp but doesn't woofle or warble - strange but true. Oh, and it costs just £28K...
It's no coincidence that co-editor Meaden and snapper Gus Gregory have convoyed down in a fourth car, a standard M3 in our favourite trim - six-speed manual and 18in alloys. At the mountain top, alongside the CSL, it looks curiously plain. Mind you, so do the Porsche and Subaru.
Since Meaden drove the prototype CSL way back in issue 047 there have been only minor changes. The separate boot spoiler has been integrated into the bootlid and the front tyres are a section wider. They're now 235/35 ZR19, matched to 265/30 ZR19 rears, on this car the sticky Michelin Pilot Sport Cups with a fat, almost slick outer tread. Power from the 3.2-litre straight-six is officially 355bhp at 7900rpm, 17bhp up on standard thanks partly to a new free-flow induction system with a carbonfibre airbox that amplifies the intake's gulping, and the only gearbox you can have is the paddle-shift SMG clutchless manual.
The stance of the CSL is near perfect and the cockpit strikes the right tone, too. Swing open the door and you reveal a beautifully sculpted swathe of carbonfibre that integrates with the upper and lower portions of the standard M3 door casing. There's a carbon centre console too, and dark grey suede trim for the race-style seats and the chunky rim of the steering wheel. This appears oddly denuded since all bar one of the buttons that pepper the spars of a standard M3's wheel have been deleted. The remaining button engages the 'M Track' system, which raises the intervention thresholds of DSC stability control.
Incidentally, no-cost options include a radio, air conditioning and those Michelin Cup tyres - customers have to sign a disclaimer stating that they accept the compromises that come with the tyres, such as reduced performance in the wet and when they're cold. We discovered another that's not mentioned: leave the CSL parked on hot asphalt after a good run and it'll pull chunks up when you move off, so that for the first couple of miles it feels like the tyres are square.
It has been decided that our mini mountain doesn't offer enough photographic opportunities so we're heading across the border into France where the map shows more promising-looking squiggles. I slip into the embrace of the CSL's deeply bolstered seat and fatigue ebbs away. Its fixed backrest is a fraction too upright for me (as is the GT3's), so I feel as if I'm hunched to the wheel like Gronholm in his 206 WRC, but it does mean I'm instantly in the mood to drive.
By the time we've hit the level, I'm a big fan of the CSL. Even the SMG 'box seems right, getting off to a good start by slipping between first and reverse quickly for fuss-free manoeuvring (something few other clutchless manuals manage), and then punching up through the gears crisply and downshifting neatly, with the minimum flare of revs.
You're instantly aware how firmly suspended the CSL is, yet it manages to deliver a smooth ride, while steering response is simply incredible. You turn and the CSL changes tack, instantly. It feels like there's not a millimetre of roll, not a sliver of rubber bush compliance between your input and the tyres, which hang on like hot slicks. Waggle the wheel left and right on a straight and your ribs get squeezed against the seat's side bolsters.
So much for lateral g, what about longitudinal? At first it's hard to focus on how fast you're accelerating because the roar of the straight-six is so distracting, especially with the windows rolled down. Initially the sound is standard M3 only slightly rawer, the CSL's thinner-walled exhaust system enhancing its familiar metallic zizz and cackle. Then, if you're in third gear or higher, at 6000rpm the six hits a VTEC-like cam change and the intake note hardens and rises a whole heap of decibels. 'It's almost Diablo-like in its volume and menace,' says Meaden.
The CSL is very quick, especially over those last couple of thousand revs, but the Impreza is still filling its rear view mirror and the GT3 ahead stretches away a fraction on the longer straights. I'm not surprised at the Porsche's speed - I couldn't resist letting the rev-counter needle swing full scale a few times on the run down. I'd become used to the 911's terrifically muscular low- and mid-range response and expected it to work through the last 2500rpm with similar determination. Er, no. It suddenly ramps up almost like the car has been given a hefty shove in the back, the note of the flat-six reaching a dizzying peak I've not heard before. Or maybe I did once, when I was performance testing a regular 911 and got second instead of fourth.
The Impreza's cracking pace is more intriguing as it's the least powerful car here, so I get myself a run in it before we reach our new location. Its cabin is much like a UK STi's, differences being black trim throughout and dials with red needles that make a test sweep before the gauges fully light up. The flat-four rumble is such an intrinsic part of the normal Impreza experience that its absence is quite odd - imagine Rod Stewart stepping up to the mike and singing with the voice of Gareth Gates.
But then this is no normal Impreza. More efficient equal-length manifolds and a new twin-scroll, roller-bearing turbocharger have banished the throb and left behind an engine note that sounds deep, soft and vaguely twin-cammy, though partly this is down to the sports exhaust fitted by Litchfield Imports. 'We buy-in the same management system that Prodrive uses,' explains eponymous boss Ian Litchfield, 'and re-map the engine for UK superplus unleaded.'
If the plainer engine note is a surprise, the feel of the chassis is nothing less than a shock. The steering of Imprezas generally feels a little low geared, and if you push hard into a corner, the nose scrubs wide a bit. Not in this car. For immediacy of response and tenacity of grip, the front end of the Spec C is right up there with the CSL's. Now I understand why it stayed glued to the BMW's tailpipes earlier.
The clue is in the Spec C's stance. There's discernable camber on all four wheels, and even at rest the nose looks like it is mid-way through a heavy landing. In fact, a new front sub-frame has moved the front wheels about an inch forward. There's a quicker steering rack, solid suspension bushes, and a thicker rear anti-roll bar, all of which help increase steering response and feel. Then there's the four-wheel-drive system, which has an adjustable centre differential (usually 35/65 front/rear but you can dial in anything from 55/45 to 100 per cent rear-drive, Skyline-style) as well as front and rear limited slip diffs. Oh, and not forgetting the specialised rubber: Bridgestone RE070s with a blocky outer tread band that's not quite as uncompromising as the BMW's Pilot Cups.
I've only scratched the surface of the Spec C's ability by the time we find a hotel for the night in the small town of Munster, which is famous, it seems, for large numbers of storks nesting on the chimney tops, and a festival where cows have the run of the high street. Looking at the whitened rooftops, it's a good job the cows can't fly.
Steak and chips all round - we're too tired to be adventurous and the kitchen closes in two minutes - with a side order of car chat. For Meaden, this is his second drive of the CSL. 'As we suspected at the time, those early 'prototypes' were near as dammit finished cars,' he says. 'The detailing is superb, particularly that carbon roof and door panels. It has a real aura about it, like an old 911 GT2. Press the 'Sport' button and the induction noise is incredible, but I reckon it only makes you feel like you're going quicker.' I've been missing out; I didn't know it did that. 'Oh yeah, it gets really loud then,' pipes up Hayman.
On looks, the CSL tops all our scorecards. The GT3, despite its twin-deck rear spoiler and the lower ride that squeezes its wheels into its arches, is just a little too much like a stock 911. The Impreza, well, it doesn't get mentioned - Meaden and Hayman have yet to drive it. I have a feeling it might come good tomorrow, though, when we get onto the spectacular roads that Gregory and Hayman have sussed out.
I could do without another disturbed night's sleep, but there's a good chance of a very localised storm; Meaden and I tossed a coin and I lost, which means I have to share a twin room with Gnasher, aka John Hayman. The excruciating noises he makes by grinding his teeth together as he sleeps are the stuff of evo group test legend.
I must have been exhausted because the sound of splintering enamel woke me only once, and a well-aimed sock restored the peace. I feel surprisingly chipper despite the early hour and snaffle the key to the Porsche.
It's a superb road that takes us up to over 1200 metres; smoothly surfaced, wide and wonderfully sinuous through its tree-lined lower reaches. An equally early-rising tourist coach splits our group in two early on, and when I finally get past, trailed by the Impreza, we've got catching up to do.
Cool morning air seems to have given the 911's flat-six a major boost. It feels spectacularly muscular and you can meter out the urge with fantastic precision, getting back on the throttle as soon as the nose is locked onto the apex, using the weight transfer to pin the already heavy rear firmly to the road for stupendous punch out of turns. The snappy gearshift has a wonderful, unerring precision, the steering is full of information and the carbon brakes that squeal horrendously in town just get on with the job of hauling off great chunks of speed. They're still a bit rumbly but I don't care; in every other respect this is the right car, on the right road, at the right time.
All credit to it, the Impreza's still hanging in there. Time to bring the outer limits of the GT3's rev band into play, then. It's fast enough without it but once you've found a straight long enough to get the needle into the crazy zone, you can't help but keep going back. The gap to the Scoob opens out over the next half-dozen twisting miles and it's a disappointment to find the rest of the group waiting for us at a junction soon after. It's so tempting to wave cheerily out of the window and blast straight past.
A good time to swap to the CSL, then. There might be a £15K price difference, but most people we've spoken to who have their name down for a CSL considered the GT3, and vice-versa. You don't sit quite so low in the BMW but there's an almost Touring Car feel about it, the dashboard and window line coming to almost shoulder height. Pre-flight adjustments include setting the shift speed to maximum by thumbing the button aft of the stubby chrome gearlever until the bar graph in the shift pattern pictogram is fully lit, and pressing the Sport button.
Cripes! As soon as the straight-six gets near 3000rpm the induction bellow is shockingly loud. Press 'Sport' again with your foot still hard down and it's as if you've hit the mute button and lost about 10 per cent of the throttle travel. A novelty? Maybe, but SMG does allow you to select and hold a much higher gear than a conventional auto would, and the sound of that M Power straight-six digging deep in a tall gear, its labours amplified by Sport mode, is absolutely glorious.
To be honest, though, back-to-back the BMW's outright urge isn't as impressive as the Porsche's. Later, at the test track, we fail to match BMW's claim of 0-62 in 4.9. The best we can manage is 0-60 in 5.3, compared with a stunning 4.3 for both the GT3 and the Impreza. The 911 gets to 100 in 9.2 (11.1 for the STi, 12 dead for the Bee-Em).
The power to weight ratios suggest the CSL should be closer to the other cars. The GT3 is actually a few kilos heavier than a standard 911 because it uses the stiffer Carrera 4 shell, but with 1363kg and 375bhp it has the best power to weight ratio here at 272bhp/ton. The CSL weighs 185kg less than the stock M3 and just 20kg more than the GT3, but musters a lesser 255bhp/ton, while at 1380kg (5kg less than the CSL), the Impreza Spec C manages 247bhp/ton. The fact that the Scoob is ahead of the CSL at 60 and 100mph is explained partly by the way it exploits its four-wheel drive system to explode off the line, hitting 30mph in just 1.5sec.
The CSL has an intrinsically better weight distribution than the GT3, though, and the mass over its front wheels is what allows it to react astonishingly sharply to steering inputs. It makes the GT3 feel a bit woolly on turn-in. The CSL has impressively strong traction in the dry, too, and the stock M3 shows that it's not all down to those Pilot Cups. The tricky part comes when you've exploited that turn-in, punched the throttle early and the rear runs out of grip. DSC will intervene and throttle back the engine, maybe brake an individual wheel if you're asking far too much, which is fine. However, if you've switched DSC out you need to be on your mettle.
'Grip levels are sensational,' says Meaden, 'but far from beefing-up the M3's feel I reckon it has diminished. There's no understeer whatsoever, but when you haven't got that tactile early warning system, you're left with a kind of blind faith that the Sport Cups have plenty in reserve. They have, of course, but when they do let go at the rear you've got little idea of by how big a margin you've overstepped the mark.'
As you might anticipate from the CSL's tightness and hyper responses, oversteer isn't playfully indulged. Most likely you'll back off when the tail has kicked out, which has the effect of snapping the BM's rear sharply back into line. Take a deep breath and stay close to the throttle opening that unhooked the rear tyres in the first place and you can ride out the whole gear and paint black lines on the road. It's real pro stuff, though, best left to the track.
The road down from the summit is less appealing in tourist terms and so quieter, which suits our needs, but it presents our trio with more of a challenge. Or, rather, it presents two of them with a sterner challenge while the third, the Impreza, takes it all in its stride. The Spec C was impressive on the way up when the road was more evenly surfaced and twistier, and it's even better here. Slightly lumpy tarmac, some awkward cambers - this stretch is not that far removed from a decent British B-road.
I've already blatted up and down here in the CSL and GT3 before I climb into the Impreza and so quickly appreciate the Subaru's better handling of the surface. Adding interest, Meaden is just ahead in the BMW. The odd thing is that while the Subaru was easily the harshest riding car at low speed, verging on the painful over Munster's cobbled high street, it doesn't discover as many bumps in this fast, flowing road as the German pair.
Every time you hop into the turbocharged Impreza it takes a few moments to get used to the fact that it doesn't have the instant punch of the naturally-aspirated cars, but that said, its flat-four lights up well before 3000rpm, a good 1000rpm before the UK STi's, which makes it more driveable and much easier to get into a rhythm. You might tinker with the centre diff thumbwheel on track but it does a fine job in auto, shuffling the torque around mid- to late-corner to make the most effective use of the power. It's so impressive that you end up getting on the throttle earlier and earlier so that turn-in bite flows into a rear-drive bias with a whiff of oversteer before the front tyres get a bigger share of the torque and pull the car clear of the corner. I'll bet it'd be an absolute hoot at a wet trackday.
The Spec C's short-throw gearshift seems a fraction slicker than that of the UK cars I've tried, the lever moving around the tight six-speed gate with more polish to complement a real sense of mechanical meshing. That's not something you have to concern yourself with in the BMW, and on a turbulent road like this, that's a good thing. Trying to go hard in the CSL or GT3 is a bit of a wild ride, so not having to remove a hand from the wheel to stir a gearlever gives the CSL an edge.
Initially the CSL pulls away from the Impreza but into a particularly lumpy, heavily cambered right/left/right combo that demands heavy braking, I know the BMW is going to feel unsettled. The Spec C WRX recoups 100 yards, just like that, arcing into the first apex hard on the brakes, the suspension seemingly planing the surface flat. The Scoob never gets close enough to hassle to overtake but I know Meaden is having a considerably less comfortable time.
It's the most impressive and capable Impreza I've ever driven, no question. The lack of that characteristic flat-four throb might take some getting used to but you're soon having so much fun that you don't care. Meaden concurs: 'Lightning-sharp responses, awesome road-holding and a delightfully throttle-adjustable balance. It's the first of the new-generation Scoobs to convincingly raise the bar left by the RB5 and P1. We brought it along to keep the big guns honest, and that it has most certainly done.'
I'll second that, though we both acknowledge that for most potential GT3 or CSL customers, an Impreza, even one as talented as this, simply won't deliver the image and prestige they crave. If you can't afford the German cars, don't worry - the Spec C gets you remarkably close to their performance and raw appeal, more so than just about anything else for the money.
We've waited a long time for the M3 CSL to arrive and in the metal (and carbonfibre) it doesn't disappoint. It's achingly desirable, a handsome and finely finished thing, inside and out. Certainly it's no bargain; underneath it all, it's still a 3-series, but in a sense that's exactly the point, because although it hasn't been created to dominate a class of racing, it shows what BMW can do when it brings its considerable engineering talent to bear.
Your first drive in the CSL will blow you away. It's so sharp, so alert, so solid, a precision-honed driving machine. Grip levels with those Pilot Cups are simply astonishing - it really does feel like a road-going racecar, yet the ride is acceptably supple around town. We do wonder how much of the CSL's performance is down to those radical tyres, though. Arguably, they're its best and worst feature, serving up amazing grip but taking away some of the involvement. And as Hayman discovered on his way to drop the car back in Munich, when it rains, they're treacherous.
The SMG gearbox in this iteration is the best we've tried and offers many mood-matching modes, including full auto, but the bottom line is that it removes another layer of driver input. So even when you're gunning the fabulous straight-six right to the redline, serenaded by that sharp-edged bark, snapping upshifts and biting into an apex with laser-guided precision, you don't feel you're making as big a contribution to getting the CSL to go quickly as you ought in a pure driver's car. Meaden puts it like this: 'I think the most telling thing is that I never really had a genuinely memorable drive in the CSL.'
The GT3 shows what you're missing. Sure, it doesn't feel as incredibly sharp but it can cover the ground every bit as effectively, so long as you're prepared to work at it, to feel what the chassis is telling you and get the heavy tail working for you. Personally, I reckon it's a bit too stiff, rather like the current GT2, and that the chassis of the previous GT3 remains the pinnacle of recent 911 development, but it's still endlessly engaging, a challenge that rewards.
And then there's that engine. It has real supercar qualities, delivering a beefy mid-range and then getting a second wind that takes it further up the rev range than you'd believe possible. It might be 40bhp down on the Turbo but somehow it's more satisfying. 'It's sensational,' says Meaden, 'and you'd surely never tire of that sense of it pulling and pulling and pulling with ever-increasing violence.'
So, undeniable as the CSL's visual attraction is, the Porsche gets our vote. 'It offers lasting satisfaction where the CSL delivers instant gratification,' says Meaden. Just remember to tick the box marked 'air conditioning'.
M3 CSL v 911 GT3 v Impreza STi Spec C | Car Group Tests | Car Reviews | evo
CSL, GT3 and Impreza Spec C; three quite different cars linked by a common philosophy - each is the most finely honed, most tightly focused driver's car its maker produces. We compare them on road and track
After a drive of almost 700 miles, we're perched at the top of a small mountain near the French-German border, awaiting the arrival of the CSL. And if I'm not mistaken, the urgent but cultured induction roar now echoing through the trees below means we won't have to wait long. The bark rises and falls with the road's twists, gradually gaining volume and detail until finally the CSL bursts into view.
Wow! In the instant that determines visual hit or miss, the CSL scores a bullseye - it looks almost suckered to the road while bright sunlight spangles on its naked carbonfibre roof. With a final flourish, it storms the last straight, in-line six keening all the way to a frantic and metallic-edged 8000rpm before ba-blipp-ing tightly down through the 'box and rumbling into the parking area, its tyres coating themselves in gravel which rains into the wheelarches.
If I was asked to choose, right this second, between our three pared-back, performance-enhanced driver's cars, the 911 GT3 and Impreza Spec C wouldn't get a look in. The CSL looks sensational; cool yet menacing, trick but subtle. Don't bother wrapping it, I'll drive it home. Now.
Or maybe I won't, because once John Hayman has wriggled from the grasp of the BMW's seat, he stands holding his sweaty T-shirt off his back. 'A £58K car without air conditioning,' he tuts. Tell me about it: the temperature is still in the high 30s even though it's late afternoon, and my last stint was in the air con-less £73K Porsche. I feel like I've lost a few kilos - and I reckon I'd find them if I wrung out the GT3's driver's seat. It's galling, then, to discover that although the Subaru does have air con, its pilot, Ian Litchfield, hasn't had it turned on since Blighty 'because the cold air sends me to sleep'. If only he'd told us earlier.
Mild heat exhaustion rests on top of plain tiredness. A couple of hours before my un-Godly 4am alarm this morning, I was woken by an absolutely terrifying roll of thunder. It sounded like a Deltic Diesel wrapped in heavy blankets was falling down eight flights of stairs, bouncing off walls, punching through landings before, at the thunderclap, crashing through my bedroom ceiling. Jeez. It was as though, after more than a week of sultry heat, all the pent-up English weather was being unleashed in one go. A torrential downpour began minutes later and I nodded off as the air cooled and filled with that distinctive aroma you can almost taste; the smell of rain mixed with dust.
That was a distant memory 12 hours later on a baking autoroute at the wheel of the GT3. The outside temperature gauge showed 39deg C and hot air swirled into the cockpit through the open windows, where it mixed with hot air blowing through the facia vents. Still, GT3 versus CSL is worth the journey, I told myself.
You might be wondering why we've brought the Impreza along, though. Well, don't judge it too hastily. This Subaru is from the same mould as the BMW and Porsche; a driver's car that has been put through an intensive program of stripping back, honing and re-specifying to produce the purest, most responsive and most focused drive. Yes, it looks like a regular WRX STi, apart from its less ostentatious, carbon rear wing, but is, in fact, an Impreza like no other.
Its full title is (deep breath) Subaru Impreza WRX STi Type RA Spec C Limited, and it's an evolution of last year's very special S202 (evo 051). Some pertinent facts to chew on: a weight reduction of 90kg compared with the UK STi; a totally re-worked 4wd chassis; and a new-generation turbo flat-four that produces 335bhp but doesn't woofle or warble - strange but true. Oh, and it costs just £28K...
It's no coincidence that co-editor Meaden and snapper Gus Gregory have convoyed down in a fourth car, a standard M3 in our favourite trim - six-speed manual and 18in alloys. At the mountain top, alongside the CSL, it looks curiously plain. Mind you, so do the Porsche and Subaru.
Since Meaden drove the prototype CSL way back in issue 047 there have been only minor changes. The separate boot spoiler has been integrated into the bootlid and the front tyres are a section wider. They're now 235/35 ZR19, matched to 265/30 ZR19 rears, on this car the sticky Michelin Pilot Sport Cups with a fat, almost slick outer tread. Power from the 3.2-litre straight-six is officially 355bhp at 7900rpm, 17bhp up on standard thanks partly to a new free-flow induction system with a carbonfibre airbox that amplifies the intake's gulping, and the only gearbox you can have is the paddle-shift SMG clutchless manual.
The stance of the CSL is near perfect and the cockpit strikes the right tone, too. Swing open the door and you reveal a beautifully sculpted swathe of carbonfibre that integrates with the upper and lower portions of the standard M3 door casing. There's a carbon centre console too, and dark grey suede trim for the race-style seats and the chunky rim of the steering wheel. This appears oddly denuded since all bar one of the buttons that pepper the spars of a standard M3's wheel have been deleted. The remaining button engages the 'M Track' system, which raises the intervention thresholds of DSC stability control.
Incidentally, no-cost options include a radio, air conditioning and those Michelin Cup tyres - customers have to sign a disclaimer stating that they accept the compromises that come with the tyres, such as reduced performance in the wet and when they're cold. We discovered another that's not mentioned: leave the CSL parked on hot asphalt after a good run and it'll pull chunks up when you move off, so that for the first couple of miles it feels like the tyres are square.
It has been decided that our mini mountain doesn't offer enough photographic opportunities so we're heading across the border into France where the map shows more promising-looking squiggles. I slip into the embrace of the CSL's deeply bolstered seat and fatigue ebbs away. Its fixed backrest is a fraction too upright for me (as is the GT3's), so I feel as if I'm hunched to the wheel like Gronholm in his 206 WRC, but it does mean I'm instantly in the mood to drive.
By the time we've hit the level, I'm a big fan of the CSL. Even the SMG 'box seems right, getting off to a good start by slipping between first and reverse quickly for fuss-free manoeuvring (something few other clutchless manuals manage), and then punching up through the gears crisply and downshifting neatly, with the minimum flare of revs.
You're instantly aware how firmly suspended the CSL is, yet it manages to deliver a smooth ride, while steering response is simply incredible. You turn and the CSL changes tack, instantly. It feels like there's not a millimetre of roll, not a sliver of rubber bush compliance between your input and the tyres, which hang on like hot slicks. Waggle the wheel left and right on a straight and your ribs get squeezed against the seat's side bolsters.
So much for lateral g, what about longitudinal? At first it's hard to focus on how fast you're accelerating because the roar of the straight-six is so distracting, especially with the windows rolled down. Initially the sound is standard M3 only slightly rawer, the CSL's thinner-walled exhaust system enhancing its familiar metallic zizz and cackle. Then, if you're in third gear or higher, at 6000rpm the six hits a VTEC-like cam change and the intake note hardens and rises a whole heap of decibels. 'It's almost Diablo-like in its volume and menace,' says Meaden.
The CSL is very quick, especially over those last couple of thousand revs, but the Impreza is still filling its rear view mirror and the GT3 ahead stretches away a fraction on the longer straights. I'm not surprised at the Porsche's speed - I couldn't resist letting the rev-counter needle swing full scale a few times on the run down. I'd become used to the 911's terrifically muscular low- and mid-range response and expected it to work through the last 2500rpm with similar determination. Er, no. It suddenly ramps up almost like the car has been given a hefty shove in the back, the note of the flat-six reaching a dizzying peak I've not heard before. Or maybe I did once, when I was performance testing a regular 911 and got second instead of fourth.
The Impreza's cracking pace is more intriguing as it's the least powerful car here, so I get myself a run in it before we reach our new location. Its cabin is much like a UK STi's, differences being black trim throughout and dials with red needles that make a test sweep before the gauges fully light up. The flat-four rumble is such an intrinsic part of the normal Impreza experience that its absence is quite odd - imagine Rod Stewart stepping up to the mike and singing with the voice of Gareth Gates.
But then this is no normal Impreza. More efficient equal-length manifolds and a new twin-scroll, roller-bearing turbocharger have banished the throb and left behind an engine note that sounds deep, soft and vaguely twin-cammy, though partly this is down to the sports exhaust fitted by Litchfield Imports. 'We buy-in the same management system that Prodrive uses,' explains eponymous boss Ian Litchfield, 'and re-map the engine for UK superplus unleaded.'
If the plainer engine note is a surprise, the feel of the chassis is nothing less than a shock. The steering of Imprezas generally feels a little low geared, and if you push hard into a corner, the nose scrubs wide a bit. Not in this car. For immediacy of response and tenacity of grip, the front end of the Spec C is right up there with the CSL's. Now I understand why it stayed glued to the BMW's tailpipes earlier.
The clue is in the Spec C's stance. There's discernable camber on all four wheels, and even at rest the nose looks like it is mid-way through a heavy landing. In fact, a new front sub-frame has moved the front wheels about an inch forward. There's a quicker steering rack, solid suspension bushes, and a thicker rear anti-roll bar, all of which help increase steering response and feel. Then there's the four-wheel-drive system, which has an adjustable centre differential (usually 35/65 front/rear but you can dial in anything from 55/45 to 100 per cent rear-drive, Skyline-style) as well as front and rear limited slip diffs. Oh, and not forgetting the specialised rubber: Bridgestone RE070s with a blocky outer tread band that's not quite as uncompromising as the BMW's Pilot Cups.
I've only scratched the surface of the Spec C's ability by the time we find a hotel for the night in the small town of Munster, which is famous, it seems, for large numbers of storks nesting on the chimney tops, and a festival where cows have the run of the high street. Looking at the whitened rooftops, it's a good job the cows can't fly.
Steak and chips all round - we're too tired to be adventurous and the kitchen closes in two minutes - with a side order of car chat. For Meaden, this is his second drive of the CSL. 'As we suspected at the time, those early 'prototypes' were near as dammit finished cars,' he says. 'The detailing is superb, particularly that carbon roof and door panels. It has a real aura about it, like an old 911 GT2. Press the 'Sport' button and the induction noise is incredible, but I reckon it only makes you feel like you're going quicker.' I've been missing out; I didn't know it did that. 'Oh yeah, it gets really loud then,' pipes up Hayman.
On looks, the CSL tops all our scorecards. The GT3, despite its twin-deck rear spoiler and the lower ride that squeezes its wheels into its arches, is just a little too much like a stock 911. The Impreza, well, it doesn't get mentioned - Meaden and Hayman have yet to drive it. I have a feeling it might come good tomorrow, though, when we get onto the spectacular roads that Gregory and Hayman have sussed out.
I could do without another disturbed night's sleep, but there's a good chance of a very localised storm; Meaden and I tossed a coin and I lost, which means I have to share a twin room with Gnasher, aka John Hayman. The excruciating noises he makes by grinding his teeth together as he sleeps are the stuff of evo group test legend.
I must have been exhausted because the sound of splintering enamel woke me only once, and a well-aimed sock restored the peace. I feel surprisingly chipper despite the early hour and snaffle the key to the Porsche.
It's a superb road that takes us up to over 1200 metres; smoothly surfaced, wide and wonderfully sinuous through its tree-lined lower reaches. An equally early-rising tourist coach splits our group in two early on, and when I finally get past, trailed by the Impreza, we've got catching up to do.
Cool morning air seems to have given the 911's flat-six a major boost. It feels spectacularly muscular and you can meter out the urge with fantastic precision, getting back on the throttle as soon as the nose is locked onto the apex, using the weight transfer to pin the already heavy rear firmly to the road for stupendous punch out of turns. The snappy gearshift has a wonderful, unerring precision, the steering is full of information and the carbon brakes that squeal horrendously in town just get on with the job of hauling off great chunks of speed. They're still a bit rumbly but I don't care; in every other respect this is the right car, on the right road, at the right time.
All credit to it, the Impreza's still hanging in there. Time to bring the outer limits of the GT3's rev band into play, then. It's fast enough without it but once you've found a straight long enough to get the needle into the crazy zone, you can't help but keep going back. The gap to the Scoob opens out over the next half-dozen twisting miles and it's a disappointment to find the rest of the group waiting for us at a junction soon after. It's so tempting to wave cheerily out of the window and blast straight past.
A good time to swap to the CSL, then. There might be a £15K price difference, but most people we've spoken to who have their name down for a CSL considered the GT3, and vice-versa. You don't sit quite so low in the BMW but there's an almost Touring Car feel about it, the dashboard and window line coming to almost shoulder height. Pre-flight adjustments include setting the shift speed to maximum by thumbing the button aft of the stubby chrome gearlever until the bar graph in the shift pattern pictogram is fully lit, and pressing the Sport button.
Cripes! As soon as the straight-six gets near 3000rpm the induction bellow is shockingly loud. Press 'Sport' again with your foot still hard down and it's as if you've hit the mute button and lost about 10 per cent of the throttle travel. A novelty? Maybe, but SMG does allow you to select and hold a much higher gear than a conventional auto would, and the sound of that M Power straight-six digging deep in a tall gear, its labours amplified by Sport mode, is absolutely glorious.
To be honest, though, back-to-back the BMW's outright urge isn't as impressive as the Porsche's. Later, at the test track, we fail to match BMW's claim of 0-62 in 4.9. The best we can manage is 0-60 in 5.3, compared with a stunning 4.3 for both the GT3 and the Impreza. The 911 gets to 100 in 9.2 (11.1 for the STi, 12 dead for the Bee-Em).
The power to weight ratios suggest the CSL should be closer to the other cars. The GT3 is actually a few kilos heavier than a standard 911 because it uses the stiffer Carrera 4 shell, but with 1363kg and 375bhp it has the best power to weight ratio here at 272bhp/ton. The CSL weighs 185kg less than the stock M3 and just 20kg more than the GT3, but musters a lesser 255bhp/ton, while at 1380kg (5kg less than the CSL), the Impreza Spec C manages 247bhp/ton. The fact that the Scoob is ahead of the CSL at 60 and 100mph is explained partly by the way it exploits its four-wheel drive system to explode off the line, hitting 30mph in just 1.5sec.
The CSL has an intrinsically better weight distribution than the GT3, though, and the mass over its front wheels is what allows it to react astonishingly sharply to steering inputs. It makes the GT3 feel a bit woolly on turn-in. The CSL has impressively strong traction in the dry, too, and the stock M3 shows that it's not all down to those Pilot Cups. The tricky part comes when you've exploited that turn-in, punched the throttle early and the rear runs out of grip. DSC will intervene and throttle back the engine, maybe brake an individual wheel if you're asking far too much, which is fine. However, if you've switched DSC out you need to be on your mettle.
'Grip levels are sensational,' says Meaden, 'but far from beefing-up the M3's feel I reckon it has diminished. There's no understeer whatsoever, but when you haven't got that tactile early warning system, you're left with a kind of blind faith that the Sport Cups have plenty in reserve. They have, of course, but when they do let go at the rear you've got little idea of by how big a margin you've overstepped the mark.'
As you might anticipate from the CSL's tightness and hyper responses, oversteer isn't playfully indulged. Most likely you'll back off when the tail has kicked out, which has the effect of snapping the BM's rear sharply back into line. Take a deep breath and stay close to the throttle opening that unhooked the rear tyres in the first place and you can ride out the whole gear and paint black lines on the road. It's real pro stuff, though, best left to the track.
The road down from the summit is less appealing in tourist terms and so quieter, which suits our needs, but it presents our trio with more of a challenge. Or, rather, it presents two of them with a sterner challenge while the third, the Impreza, takes it all in its stride. The Spec C was impressive on the way up when the road was more evenly surfaced and twistier, and it's even better here. Slightly lumpy tarmac, some awkward cambers - this stretch is not that far removed from a decent British B-road.
I've already blatted up and down here in the CSL and GT3 before I climb into the Impreza and so quickly appreciate the Subaru's better handling of the surface. Adding interest, Meaden is just ahead in the BMW. The odd thing is that while the Subaru was easily the harshest riding car at low speed, verging on the painful over Munster's cobbled high street, it doesn't discover as many bumps in this fast, flowing road as the German pair.
Every time you hop into the turbocharged Impreza it takes a few moments to get used to the fact that it doesn't have the instant punch of the naturally-aspirated cars, but that said, its flat-four lights up well before 3000rpm, a good 1000rpm before the UK STi's, which makes it more driveable and much easier to get into a rhythm. You might tinker with the centre diff thumbwheel on track but it does a fine job in auto, shuffling the torque around mid- to late-corner to make the most effective use of the power. It's so impressive that you end up getting on the throttle earlier and earlier so that turn-in bite flows into a rear-drive bias with a whiff of oversteer before the front tyres get a bigger share of the torque and pull the car clear of the corner. I'll bet it'd be an absolute hoot at a wet trackday.
The Spec C's short-throw gearshift seems a fraction slicker than that of the UK cars I've tried, the lever moving around the tight six-speed gate with more polish to complement a real sense of mechanical meshing. That's not something you have to concern yourself with in the BMW, and on a turbulent road like this, that's a good thing. Trying to go hard in the CSL or GT3 is a bit of a wild ride, so not having to remove a hand from the wheel to stir a gearlever gives the CSL an edge.
Initially the CSL pulls away from the Impreza but into a particularly lumpy, heavily cambered right/left/right combo that demands heavy braking, I know the BMW is going to feel unsettled. The Spec C WRX recoups 100 yards, just like that, arcing into the first apex hard on the brakes, the suspension seemingly planing the surface flat. The Scoob never gets close enough to hassle to overtake but I know Meaden is having a considerably less comfortable time.
It's the most impressive and capable Impreza I've ever driven, no question. The lack of that characteristic flat-four throb might take some getting used to but you're soon having so much fun that you don't care. Meaden concurs: 'Lightning-sharp responses, awesome road-holding and a delightfully throttle-adjustable balance. It's the first of the new-generation Scoobs to convincingly raise the bar left by the RB5 and P1. We brought it along to keep the big guns honest, and that it has most certainly done.'
I'll second that, though we both acknowledge that for most potential GT3 or CSL customers, an Impreza, even one as talented as this, simply won't deliver the image and prestige they crave. If you can't afford the German cars, don't worry - the Spec C gets you remarkably close to their performance and raw appeal, more so than just about anything else for the money.
We've waited a long time for the M3 CSL to arrive and in the metal (and carbonfibre) it doesn't disappoint. It's achingly desirable, a handsome and finely finished thing, inside and out. Certainly it's no bargain; underneath it all, it's still a 3-series, but in a sense that's exactly the point, because although it hasn't been created to dominate a class of racing, it shows what BMW can do when it brings its considerable engineering talent to bear.
Your first drive in the CSL will blow you away. It's so sharp, so alert, so solid, a precision-honed driving machine. Grip levels with those Pilot Cups are simply astonishing - it really does feel like a road-going racecar, yet the ride is acceptably supple around town. We do wonder how much of the CSL's performance is down to those radical tyres, though. Arguably, they're its best and worst feature, serving up amazing grip but taking away some of the involvement. And as Hayman discovered on his way to drop the car back in Munich, when it rains, they're treacherous.
The SMG gearbox in this iteration is the best we've tried and offers many mood-matching modes, including full auto, but the bottom line is that it removes another layer of driver input. So even when you're gunning the fabulous straight-six right to the redline, serenaded by that sharp-edged bark, snapping upshifts and biting into an apex with laser-guided precision, you don't feel you're making as big a contribution to getting the CSL to go quickly as you ought in a pure driver's car. Meaden puts it like this: 'I think the most telling thing is that I never really had a genuinely memorable drive in the CSL.'
The GT3 shows what you're missing. Sure, it doesn't feel as incredibly sharp but it can cover the ground every bit as effectively, so long as you're prepared to work at it, to feel what the chassis is telling you and get the heavy tail working for you. Personally, I reckon it's a bit too stiff, rather like the current GT2, and that the chassis of the previous GT3 remains the pinnacle of recent 911 development, but it's still endlessly engaging, a challenge that rewards.
And then there's that engine. It has real supercar qualities, delivering a beefy mid-range and then getting a second wind that takes it further up the rev range than you'd believe possible. It might be 40bhp down on the Turbo but somehow it's more satisfying. 'It's sensational,' says Meaden, 'and you'd surely never tire of that sense of it pulling and pulling and pulling with ever-increasing violence.'
So, undeniable as the CSL's visual attraction is, the Porsche gets our vote. 'It offers lasting satisfaction where the CSL delivers instant gratification,' says Meaden. Just remember to tick the box marked 'air conditioning'.
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