1994 BMW 540i Plays the Numbers Game

From the September 1993 issue of Car and Driver.

Back in 1988, when BMW yanked the trench coat off its current 5-series line, there was but one lonely U.S.-bound face in the family: the 535i. Since then, the Five’s family tree has forked and crept and burgeoned like some sort of Borneo strangler fern. There are BMW public-affairs employees who now cannot name all of this family’s siblings. Here’s the 1994 portrait:

•525i sedan, five-speed manual: $38,476
•525i sedan, four-speed auto: $39,411
•525i Touring (a wagon to you and me), four-speed auto: $41,225
•530i sedan (the cheapest BMW V-8), five-speed manual: $42,546
•530i sedan, five-speed auto: $43,756
•530i Touring, five-speed auto: $45,846
•540i sedan, five-speed auto: $50,246
•MS sedan, five-speed manual: $66,630

If you are paying attention, you will notice that the car that actually begat the series, the 208-hp 535i, is wholly kaput. Gone. It has been replaced by the 540i, which is powered not by the familiar in­line six but by BMW’s new DOHC 32-valve V-8. This alloy engine weighs only 470 pounds but still boosts the 540i’s curb weight beyond that of the old 535i. The added heft, of course, is offset by the V-8’s muscle, which surpasses its six­-cylinder forebear by 74 horsepower and 70 pound-feet of torque.

You would think that all of this would make the 540i a vehicular bullet.

That is not the case, although the 540i does accelerate to 60 mph in a rapid 6.9 seconds. However, that makes it only one­-tenth of a second quicker to 60 than the old manual-transmission 535i and only a tenth quicker through the quarter-mile. What’s more, the 540i delivers virtually identical performances in top speed, in braking, and on the skidpad. Yes, that’s an apples-and­-oranges comparison, but the 540i is offered only with an automatic, and even the new five-speed automatic can’t harness power as well as a good manual.

Don’t get us wrong. This is a lov­able, velvety, fast-revving engine with no obvious peaks or valleys in its power delivery beyond 2500 rpm. And the 540i’s test-track stats are close to those of the much-­admired V-8–powered Mercedes­-Benz 400E—arguably its closest competitor and a car whose cockpit size and curb weight are dead ringers for the 540i’s. Both, as it happens, will cheerfully carry you and four thrillseekers to within a gulp of 150 mph while making the same amount of noise as a funeral director on Easter Sunday. Better yet, the BMW inflicts $9000 less damage to your wallet than the 400E.

On the other hand, the 5-series sedans are also five years old and looking a trifle angular and frumpy, helped not a lot by the quad layout of the halogen Hellas.

Mechanically, however, there remains much here that feels 1994-modern. The car’s practical size and intelligent packaging, for example. Its suppression of wind and road noise, for another. And the plat­form’s structural rigidity, which is simply beyond reproach. Our 540i had 4500 difficult miles on its odometer, yet even as it traversed glorious Hogback Road—whose asphalt evidently has been lifted intact from pockmarked Sarajevo—there emanated from the cockpit no squeaks, no rattles, no groans.

Some owners may ask, in fact, why the alluring snarl of the 540i’s V-8 isn’t more assertive. Hydraulic lifters are one reason. And when you lift the hood, you espy another: the V-8 is wrapped in a 20-by-30-inch plastic coffin that buries even the cam covers. This makes the thing look as spellbinding as an industrial furnace.

Plastic shroud notwithstanding, the 540i shares its 4.0-liter V-8 with the larger, 221-pound-heavier 740i. Curi­ously, the grosser 740i is a tenth quicker, both to 60 mph and through the quarter-mile. Because both cars employ identical final-drive ratios, this anom­aly can perhaps be traced to variances in assembly tolerances. Which does not strike us as very Teutonic.

The ZF five-speed automatic is so wonderful that we cannot honestly say we miss BMW’s buttery row-your-own five-speed. Despite the ZF’s low (numerically high) 3.55:1 first gear, the chunky rear P600s will do little more than chirp from a standing start. Nev­ertheless, the transmission control module talks endlessly to the V-8, which responds by retarding timing automatically during shifts. The upshot is one of the smoothest automatics we have ever encountered, even under the whip of full-throttle redline upshifts. This is especially noteworthy when you consider that, from rest and under a light throttle, you can coax the ZF to cycle through first, second, third, and into fourth by the time the car has attained 40 mph. That’s a lot of action in so brief a period, yet all this shiftiness underfoot goes wholly unnoticed.

In addition to BMW’s now-familiar Economy and Sport programs, the ZF has a “Winter” mode, in which the transmis­sion initially serves up third to avoid even the rumor of wheelspin. If you still fret about wheelspin, opt for the $1660 inclement-weather package—traction control and heated seats.

With its standard anti-lock brakes, the 540i stops from 70 mph in 178 feet and will do so repeatedly with no fade. This is a mere twelve inches farther than the distance required by a Ferrari 348tb. On on-ramps, the 540i’s handling remains largely neutral, and the car can still be steered with amusing, if some­what heavy, stabs from your right foot. Similarly, a quick stab-and-lift with the transmission in Sport mode induces aggressive downshifts, reminiscent of Porsche’s complex Tiptronic.

As in every current BMW, the 540i’s ergonomics are nearly faultless, with standout performances from the seats, the switchgear, and the no-nonsense gauges. With a better grade of leather facings this year, the 540i’s cockpit is, by German standards, finally approach­ing sinful—at least if you disregard the Honda-style plastic sun visors. (We even­tually came to appreciate them after a visit to the New Baltimore Dairy Queen, where some latent hot-fudge prints required immediate attention.) Our sniveling is thus confined to (1) the slightly overlarge steer­ing wheel, which is a little too high and not adjustable for rake, and (2) the stereo’s spotty FM reception and tinny speakers.

None of which dissuades us from recommending the 540i. It is a fast, firmly planted, meticulously assembled sedan that is fun to drive. What’s more, the new 540i costs just $2915 more than the six-cylinder car it replaces. Still, we do wish the V-8 idled as smoothly as the old inline six, didn’t still incur a $1000 guzzler tax, and delivered more visceral acceleration.

What you undeniably get for your extra dollars are bragging rights to a multivalve V-8. For the Munich marketing managers, at least, that may be the whole point. BMW’s closest luxo neighbors—Audi, Mercedes, Infiniti, Lexus, and Cadillac­—have for years made hay of their high-­output V-8s.

But if you still ache for the true delin­quent in the 5-series family—the most exciting BMW sibling currently sold in the U.S.—then step up to the 310-hp in-line six in the sublime M5. It is within the $66,630 M5 that Bayerische Motoren Werke’s hot-rod soul still resides. And it is ironic that the line’s dearest, fastest offering is now also the lone family member to carry on the venerated 3.5-liter tradition.