I pulled twice on the left-hand paddle behind the carbon-clad steering wheel and the transmission dropped two cogs. As the electronics blipped the throttle to match the revs, the driver's head swiveled in the grey M3 four lanes over. His gaze settled on our silver projectile, and he set a course to intercept several hundred yards ahead. The heat-seeking M3 would've found us too if the down-change hadn't unleashed the hounds of hell. With a stomp on the left pedal we were gone, heading towards the horizon at warp speed.
The pattern was the same wherever we went - people didn't see us arrive, but heard the metallic growl of the free-breathing V10, then they'd attempt to get closer.
Some followed us until we stopped at traffic lights or pulled over for gas, so they could inspect the machine at close quarters. The 5.0 badge on the trunk kept people guessing, but the V10 badges on the flanks were simply too ludicrous to believe.
Another M3 owner looked at us accusingly, and asked "What's under the hood?"
"A V10," we replied, as though it was an obvious answer.
"From the M5? Does it fit?" he questioned. "Seems to..." was our inevitable response.
He gazed at the car a little longer, waiting for us to light up the rear tires. We didn't want to disappoint, so dropped the SMG into first, hit the "Power" button to release the full 550hp, and aimed the rocket at the horizon again.
As he suspected, fitting a V10 into the E90 was no mean feat. It involved sheet metal alterations to claim extra space in the engine bay, and pushing the motor back as far as possible to regain weight distribution. The headers were custom-built to help lower the motor into the chassis and clear any obstacles they might encounter. In the rear, changes were made to the trunk floor to allow the quartet of tailpipes to pass through unmolested.
While fellow BMW drivers were blown away by the prospect of a 3-Series V10, it appeared to aggravate supercar owners. Its bold 20" wheels seemed to rile them, and the exotic exhaust note pushed them over the edge.
Numerous Porsches gave chase, but it was Lamborghini owners who really disliked the 325i. Possibly their egos are a little more fragile, but they certainly insisted on being the only V10 supercar on the block. Not today, sonny!
As we took one last 140mph run on a deserted stretch of highway, we asked ourselves the same question you're probably thinking: how did we get so lucky?
It's thanks to six degrees of separation: we visited the Essen Motor Show in '05 and reported on the new V10 conversion for the BMW E90 from German tuner Hartge. One of our readers saw the car, decided he had to have one and contacted Hartge in Germany. They referred him to Turner Motorsport (TMS) in Amesbury, MA, the US distributor for their products. A 325i was shipped out to Germany, the conversion was completed and the car returned. TMS shipped the car to the West Coast for its Bimmerfest debut (et 8/07). Learning of their plans, we offered TMS a safe place to store the car before the show. We then graciously offered to deliver the car to Bimmerfest and bring it back. They foolishly accepted our offer, so we were free to drive it like we stole it!
To be honest, it's been a while since a modified car gave me a grin this wide. But then again, the Hartge H50 V10 is the true definition of a tuner car.
We're not just talking about a set of wheels and a carbon intake here; this is an engine transplant and a fully-engineered car. You get a modified version of the M5's V10, with its seven-speed SMG gearbox, heavy-duty axle, brakes, bodywork, huge wheels, electronics to control it (including traction control, shift speed, etc) and a gear selection screen.
If BMW ever puts a V10 in the 3-Series, it'll be like this.