The Turbo Titan That Never Roared
The BMW M1 Turbo. Now here’s a car that feels like it was forged in a blacksmith’s shop run by Zeus himself. Imagine, if you will, a regular M1—a car so rare and exotic it’s like spotting a unicorn eating a croissant—and then slap on some turbochargers big enough to suck in small farm animals. That’s the M1 Turbo for you: utterly insane, gloriously over-engineered, and unapologetically German.
This fire-spitting lunatic was BMW's mad dash into Group 5 racing. Helmut Himmel, the brains behind the turbocharged 3.5-liter inline-six, clearly decided that 1,000 horsepower was the ideal way to remind Ferrari who’s boss. The result? A car so powerful it needed wings and spoilers that looked like they’d been borrowed from the Wright brothers.
And then there’s the noise. Oh, the noise. It’s a Wagner opera performed exclusively by turbos, wastegates, and angry pistons. Driving it must have felt like being strapped to a lightning bolt, screaming through corners while praying the gods of grip were feeling generous that day.
But, alas, this beast never got its full racing debut. Instead, it became a glorious "what if" story, a masterpiece that retired before the curtain even rose. And yet, its legacy lingers—BMW’s declaration that they, too, could build something truly unhinged.
BMW M1 Turbo—a car that feels more like a myth than a machine. It’s the kind of thing you’d imagine being forged on Mount Olympus by a team of German engineers under the watchful eye of Helmut Himmel and his merry band of perfectionists. This is not just a car; this is BMW's one and only true supercar, and it comes with a story so colorful that even Hollywood would struggle to script it.
The Italian Affair
Let’s start with the drama, because what’s a supercar story without a little intrigue? Back in the 1970s, BMW decided it was time to step into the world of supercars—a world dominated by Italians who made cars that looked gorgeous but worked sporadically. The idea was simple: create a mid-engined racer to compete in Group 5 racing. But instead of keeping things in Bavaria, BMW turned to Lamborghini, thinking, “These guys know how to make a mid-engined car. Let’s let them handle it.”
What could possibly go wrong? Well, everything. Lamborghini, in true Italian fashion, ran out of money halfway through the project. Cue BMW engineers flying to Italy and finding their unfinished prototypes abandoned in what was essentially a glorified shed. At this point, BMW thought, “Fine, we’ll do it ourselves,” and brought the project back home. It was a disaster at the time, but in hindsight, this chaos gave birth to one of the most iconic cars ever made.
Design by Giugiaro, Power by Madness
For the styling, BMW turned to Giorgetto Giugiaro, the Italian maestro who was probably doodling wedge shapes in his sleep at this point. Giugiaro’s design for the M1 was sharp, aggressive, and timeless—this was a car that looked fast even when standing still. The pop-up headlights were, of course, obligatory for any self-respecting supercar of the era, because nothing screams “cool” like headlights that wink at you.
Underneath that striking body sat a 3.5-liter inline-six engine, developed by BMW’s own M division. This wasn’t just any engine—it was a masterpiece, pumping out 277 horsepower in the road-going version. For the turbocharged race cars, power figures climbed to an utterly ridiculous 1,000 horsepower. That’s enough to embarrass most modern hypercars, and it was being done in the late 1970s. Let that sink in.
Procar Madness
Now, here’s where things get properly interesting. The M1 was meant to race in Group 5, but by the time the car was ready, the rules had changed. Rather than letting this engineering marvel sit idle, BMW decided to create its own racing series: the Procar Championship. Imagine Formula 1 drivers hopping into identical M1s and thrashing them around circuits. It was chaos, it was brilliant, and it gave us one of motorsport’s coolest one-make series. Niki Lauda won the inaugural championship in 1979, cementing the M1’s place in racing folklore.
The Supercar That Could Have Been
Sadly, the M1’s production run was short-lived, and it only saw around 453 units roll off the line. It wasn’t because the car wasn’t brilliant—it was. But the timing, the politics, and the sheer complexity of the project made it a commercial headache for BMW. It was like having a pet tiger: stunning to look at, but an absolute nightmare to maintain.
And that’s the tragedy of the M1. It was a car ahead of its time, a car that deserved more success on the track and more recognition off it. Yet, in its brief existence, it left a legacy that still resonates today. It was the car that gave birth to BMW’s M division, which went on to produce legends like the M3 and M5. Without the M1, there would be no M badge as we know it.
Why It’s BMW’s Only Supercar
Here’s the thing: BMW has made fast cars since the M1, and some of them—like the M8 and the hybrid i8—are incredible machines. But none of them are true supercars. The M1 had a mid-engine layout, a bespoke chassis, and a racing pedigree. It wasn’t just a fast BMW; it was something entirely unique. That’s why it remains the only true supercar BMW has ever made.
A Legacy on Wheels
The BMW M1 Turbo was flawed, ambitious, and utterly spectacular. It was the kind of car that comes around once in a lifetime—an engineering masterpiece wrapped in drama, failure, and ultimately, triumph. And while it didn’t conquer the racetracks as intended, it conquered the hearts of car enthusiasts everywhere. It’s a reminder that sometimes, the most legendary cars aren’t the ones that win the most races—they’re the ones that dared to be extraordinary.
The BMW M1 and the world of buying, selling, and collecting
A topic that makes car enthusiasts go weak at the knees and bank accounts break out in cold sweats. You see, owning an M1 today isn’t just about having a car; it’s about having a piece of motoring mythology in your garage.
When new, the M1 was priced at around $115,000—a small fortune in the late '70s, the kind of money that could also buy you a decent-sized house. Naturally, this meant that only the fabulously wealthy or deeply obsessed could afford one. But if you were one of those lucky few, congratulations—you’ve essentially won the car collector's lottery.
Fast forward to today, and the M1 is a bonafide classic, with pristine examples fetching upwards of $500,000 to $800,000 at auctions. Some especially rare Procar versions, with their racing pedigree and wild liveries, can tip the scales at well over $1 million. That’s right—this wedge-shaped wonder is now worth more than most Ferraris of the same era, and that’s saying something.
Why the skyrocketing prices? Well, it’s simple. First, BMW only made 453 of these beauties, which makes them rarer than a quiet Italian dinner party. Second, they’ve got the pedigree: racing history, Giugiaro design, and that legendary BMW badge. Lastly, let’s not forget the fact that the M1 has aged like fine wine. Its timeless wedge shape looks as striking today as it did in 1978, and its status as BMW’s only true supercar makes it irresistible to collectors.
So, if you happen to have one lying around—maybe tucked under a tarp in a barn—you’re sitting on a goldmine. And if you’re thinking of buying one? Well, better call your bank manager and start practicing your most persuasive arguments, because this car isn’t just a purchase; it’s an investment in driving nirvana.
" What would life be if we had no courage to attempt anything? "
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Vincent van Gogh
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Dutch painter
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BMW M1 Turbo