We are about to do something ridiculous: compare two cars with no reason to go head to head. Though the 1M and CTS-V were contemporaries, they were never competitors. One was a lithe Skunkworks sports car, while the other was a plus-sized ass hauler. It didn’t make any sense to pit the Bimmer against the Caddy in 2011, and it doesn’t make sense to compare them today. Whatever!
But then again, the 1M and CTS-V wagon are both rare $60k-dollar sweethearts from the analog stick-shift era. They’ve had unbroken love from gearheads for a decade and are modern classics in their own right. These two would be prime choices if you were looking for a car to buy, drive, and never lose a dollar. Maybe this comparison isn’t so crazy after all?
I’ll provide the 6-speed CTS-V wagon, a 2014 with 65k miles. I’ve owned it for nearly five years, and while I’m past the puppy-love period with the car, I think we’re wed for life. The CTS-V wagon is everything I want from a daily driver…save for being horrendously thirsty.
I’m standing by my CTS-V when Karl arrives in the 2011 BMW 1 Series M Coupe. (That is the 1M’s formal name.) Ninety-nine out of a hundred people won’t guess that this buff-yet-frumpy coupe is one of the most revered BMWs of the last 30 years, but I’m in the weirdo 1% that immediately recognizes it from its bulging fenders and M chin spoiler. Yes, this little pitbull is M royalty.
I welcome Karl, then quickly grab his keys. Karl has had this car for days; there’s no reason he should be in the driver’s seat as we start our journey. He’ll chase me in the CTS-V.
I’m being selfish, but I also want to try the 1M in my neighborhood, where I know the roads as well as the back of my hand. Driving the 1M on my stomping ground is the quickest way for me to size up the car’s daily drivability.
I have a bit of a history with the 1M and M2. Years and years ago, I tested a 1M and thought it was a better daily than my E90 M3. But my family needed the DCT sedan’s practicality, so the M3 stayed in the fold. Then, I had a delightful hour of high-speed driver training with the 2018 M2 at the BMW School in Thermal, CA, where I fell in love with the little beastie’s tail-happy handling. I was smitten, but my love chilled after renting an 2019 M2 Competition in Germany. The M2 Competition was poorly matched for my urban travels, and its S55 engine was less musical than the N55 from the original M2.
But bygones will be bygones because, in less than a mile, the 1M rekindles my ///M love.
It simply comes down to the steering. Do you remember when BMW had some of the best steering feel in the business? Yeah, I hardly remember it, too… Well, in 2011, in the final years of the hydraulic era, BMW’s steering racks were pin-sharp and read the road like a phonograph needle. And the 1M has that epic, soulful, spine-tingling steering. On the lumpy downhill boulevard that leads out of my neighborhood, I feel all the texture changes, all the pavement cracks, and the pothole thumps filtering up through the steering column to my fingertips. It is pure bliss and a throwback to my favorite BMW era.
Yet the CTS-V is an equally sublime steer. In the Cadillac, the road’s textures are a little bit quieter, but the whole good-vibrations symphony is still there. And the CTS-V’s wheel also communicates the gentle tugs from the unevenly cambered pavement. (These are missing in the 1M.) I love this added feedback, which is easily corrected with a steady hand on the wheel.
The lumpy boulevard proves the CTS-V has the 1M beat on suspension comfort. The 1M’s firm suspension and short wheelbase make the car pitch and roll with the pavement undulations. The movements are quick but controlled, resulting in a busy ride.
Conversely, the CTS-V has GM’s highly responsive magnetic ride control that sops up the bumps and stops them from entering the cabin. Like an ocean liner plowing through swells, it cuts through the chop rather than riding over it. (Also, like an ocean liner: the CTS-V wagon weighs 4400 lbs!)
The 1M’s compact dimensions are well suited to the narrow Berkeley Hills roads. Thanks to the car’s short hood, close windscreen, and (unfortunately) elevated seat, I can easily see my way around the many potholes and parked cars.
Once I reach the flats, I pick up the pace. The 1M’s clutch pedal is moderately weighted—firmest in the middle of its throw and lighter in its depths. Like the CTS-V’s, the 1M’s clutch is completely daily-able after familiarization.
The 1M has a stubby little shifter that surprises me with its long throws: there is quite a distance between the even and odd gears! Even though this 1M has 48k on the clock, the shift action is clean and tight, and the lever feels snug in each gate. The 1M only came with a manual, so thank heavens it is a good unit, but it doesn’t win any character awards over my favorite Tremecs.
The CTS-V has long shift throws, too, but they match the car’s dimensions and truckishly large steering wheel. The Caddy has a crisper detent between gears but also a disheartening amount of slop when the shifter is in gear. (I’ve been considering a shifter rebuild to resolve this problem.)
I’m acing my heel-toe downshifts in the 1M. It usually takes me some time to learn a new car, but in the 1M, I’m immediately a downshift expert. This wasn’t true of the CTS-V; it took me almost a year to figure out the trickly blipping of the big supercharged V8. The LSA engine just doesn’t add revs easily.
We make it to the highway entrance, and I punch the gas for the run up the on-ramp. With the 1M’s engine roaring, the rear tires scrabble for grip, and the ESP light blinks. Is this a warning that the 1M will be a handful on the back roads?
Looking in the rearview mirror, I see Karl rocketing onto the highway in the CTS-V. The Caddy appears to be fully in control of its rear tires. This is partially thanks to the Michelin Pilot Sport 4S tires I fit to the CTS-V a few years ago. They transformed the wagon from a tail-happy to locked-down. (The 1M also wears Michelin Pilot Sport 4S tires; curiously, they don’t grip as well.)
I am struck by the Cadillac’s chiseled grill in my mirror. The CTS-V wagon is another “if you know, you know” car, but with its sharp edges and aggressive haunches, I think that more than 1% of people recognize it as something special. I certainly feel a little tingle seeing it on the prowl, and I regularly get thumbs up for car guys.
I fall in with the traffic flow, paying attention to the 1M’s highway manners. The 1M hides its wind and tire noise better than the CTS-V; either BMW put more money into door seals and sound deadening than GM, or I’m noticing an inherent advantage of a coupe over an echo-chamber wagon. The 1M’s otherwise peaceful cruise is spoiled by its exhaust, which hums loudly at highway speeds. If the car has an aftermarket exhaust, the OEM unit should be refit immediately!
The BMW sports seat makes me eager for road trips in the 1M. This seat is one of the most comfortable I’ve ever experienced. I’m a skinny fellow with a cranky back and a bony butt, so I relish its plush cushions and sculpted backrest. The adjustable torso bolsters hug me just right, and the lumbar support is spot-on, too.
I know from family road trips in the CTS-V that the Caddy is a good long-distance cruiser. The CTS-V’s seats are supportive, but firm (probably due to their active ventilation), and its comfort comes from its supple suspension. Its quiet exhaust is appreciated on the highway.
After ten minutes, we hop off the highway and onto country roads. Fall colors flicker past as the route follows a wooded creek. The road is twisty and lumpy, challenging for the fleet but firm 1M.
The poor road is fighting to stay above the hungry creek, and the hits from the slipping pavement come fast and heavy. Thankfully, the 1M has good damping and a boxer’s ability to shake off the beating.
But then, an abrupt bridge transition almost sends the 1M flying. The 1M crashes down with a thump, and its rear end threatens to bounce out of control. The car doesn’t have the suspension travel needed to absorb the huge impact.
Undaunted, I continue gusto. The 1M leaps into the curves when I flick the fat M wheel to one side or the other. There is little body roll, and the car’s nose is gloriously responsive and unerringly grippy. There is no trick alignment or gumball track tires behind the 1M’s performance—simply, this is the beauty of a light short-wheel-base coupe in the corners. I don’t think I’ve driven another front-engined car with such limitless front grip and eager turn-in. (Though my AMG GT S comes close.)
Wanting to share my giddy excitement with Karl, I pull over near a vineyard. Karl and I alight from our cars with massive grins on our faces. I croon about the 1M’s magnificent agility, and he gushes about the CTS-V’s earth-moving power. Karl is high on the supercharged V8’s 551 lb-ft of torque.
We circle the cars, discussing their styling. The CTS-V has the hard angles of an F-117 Nighthawk stealth fighter and an outsized presence from the curb. Though its design is dated, I think it looks as good today as it did in 2011.
The 1M, on the other hand, was a bit homely from day one and still looks odd. It’s droopy-eyed, potbellied, and puffed up. I mostly love it for its flared fenders—they belie its sporting intentions—and for the fact that its ungainly tall roof makes room for a usable back seat.
Yep, the pint-sized 1M can accommodate two reasonably-sized adults—no 6-foot-tall beanpoles, please—in the rear seats without much complaining. It helps, though, if they love sporty suspensions and loud exhausts.
The CTS-V does all that and a bit more. Its backseat offers good headroom for three people, though leg and shoulder room is tight. Being a wagon, the CTS-V’s trunk stowage easily eclipses the 1M’s.
However when it comes to interior finishes, it’s undeniable that 2010’s Cadillac trailed BMW. The CTS-V’s cabin is full of cut-rate chiclet buttons and—now scratched—piano black plastic. Its panels creak and flex when prodded, and its touchscreen navigation system only looks modern if your name is Zelda. (For that matter, the reversing camera has the vision of a newt.)
The 1M, on the other hand, is smartly trimmed in Alcantara with orange accent stitching. It is commendably free of squeaks and rattles and has simple yet elegant HVAC and radio controls. The iDrive infotainment is bright and colorful but lacks touchscreen capability. This limitation is no impediment because the rotary controller is easy to use, and the menu structure is well laid out. While the 1M lacks a reversing camera, it does have sonar sensors to help with backing up.
Yes, I’m much happier with the 1M’s materials and cabin, but the CTS-V is fine when I’m not being a luxury snob or simply need to schlep more stuff.
When Karl and I finally stop gabbing, we swap keys and rerun the twisty creekside route.
Coming out of the 1M, the CTS-V feels like a jet-powered steamroller; its inertia-laden chassis and jelly-leg suspension take all the punch out of the slipping pavement. The bridge jump is reduced to a well-controlled bump, and the supercharged V8’s ever-present torque hurls me down the straightaways.
Having owned the CTS-V for the last five years, I expected all this. What is unexpected, however, is the contrast of driving the CTS-V immediately after the 1M. That does highlight some interesting sensations.
For example, the CTS-V has a great brake package, which I’ve never ever complained about. But now that I’m flogging an additional 1100 lbs down the road, I’m finding trepidation in my stomach when it is time to whoa the wagon. Both cars brake well, but I’m nervous about the Cadillac’s 4400 lbs, where I never considered the BMW’s 3300 lbs.
And when it is time to turn the CTS-V, its nose isn’t as keen as the 1M’s. The heavier engine, slower steering ratio, and softer shocks dull the CTS-V’s bite. If the 1M jumps into the corner like an energetic 5-year-old, then the CTS-V might be 50 years old; it goes through a gentle moment of gathering its weight, rolling to the side, and settling into the turn. The CTS-V is highly competent in the corners, but it can’t throw down and breakdance like the 1M.
We change roads, trading the tight twists for broad, sweeping corners. The new road’s relaxed cadence is better matched to the heavy and powerful CTS-V, as there is more time to ease into the turns. The road is still bumpy, and the Cadillac handily dispatches the mid-corner heaves and dips.
On a lengthy straightaway, I mat the gas and pull through the V8’s rev range. The big pushrod engine is slow to build revs, so my third-gear rip from 3k to 5k rpm lasts long enough to savor as the car piles on steam. A bassy V8 bellow fills the cabin, overlaid with a hint of supercharger whine. While I could push on to the 6200 rpm redline, I choose not to because the engine feels coarse and unbalanced in the final 1k rpm. While you could wring out the CTS-V at a racetrack, the car and engine are better suited for blasting down remote desert highways.
The road has a particularly rough straight that tests a car’s ability to put down power over bumps. The CTS-V is the star of this test, keeping its tires smashed to the inchworm pavement without any ESP intervention or tire slip.
We pull over in a scenic valley to switch cars once more. Karl hops out of the 1M, effusively proclaiming that our blast was one of his best drives ever. I thought the creek road’s tight twists better fit the 1M’s high-intensity dance moves, but perhaps the 1M shines equally in track-like sweepers.
With the BMW’s keys back in my pocket, I point the 1M at the traction test straightaway and floor it. As the road fights the tires, the stability control system goes into a tizzy, flashing the ESP light frantically and cutting power. The 1M tracks safe, straight, and true, but I dislike conservative ESP programming. (The 1M has a more liberal MDM mode, which I forgot to activate.)
On a smoother straight, I try another pedal-slamming throttle pull from 3k rpm. The N54 engine—a twin-turbo 3.0L I6 that makes 335 hp and 332 lb-ft (369 lb-ft in overboost)—responds immediately when I kick the gas, but a much larger shove arrives a second later when the turbos start cramming air into the engine. Car and Driver tested the 1M’s sprint 0-60 mph in 4.5s and the CTS-V’s in 4.0s, but to my bum-ometer, the 1M feels almost as quick as the CTS-V. When I run the N54 to its 7k redline, it becomes a little breathless over 6k rpm. So, both the 1M and CTS-V do their best work in the mid-range.
While the 1M is fast, it sounds bland in flight. Its soundtrack is neither exhilarating nor offensive, and I wish for more iconic BMW I6 howl. (Curiously, the 1M sounds better out on the curb than inside the cabin.)
The bland noise is all the more aggravating as BMW built the screaming S65 V8 in 2011. The 1M took many components from the M3 but never got its glorious V8 engine. What a shame! That would have been the ultimate M car.
We head off to a nearby hilltop to take beauty shots of the two cars. As I do squats with my camera—shooting low angles that make the CTS-V and 1M look mean and sporting—Karl and I discuss our afternoon with the cars.
We both agree that the 1M is the better sports car: it is so much more tossable and pointy than the CTS-V. The short-wheel-base 1M encourages hooning more than the long and stable CTS-V, which is a win from our perspective.
(Even though the newer M2 has all of the 1M’s attitude, it doesn’t have the 1M’s hydraulic steering. The steering alone makes me love the 1M and dismiss the M2.)
We also agree that the CTS-V’s engine bests the 1M’s; the LSA sounds better and delivers a wrecking ball’s punch. The laggy muted N54 I6 is the 1M’s weak point; with a more characterful engine, the 1M might have run away with this apples-to-oranges test.
Either car will get the job done for a commute to work or a drive to the grocery store. The CTS-V drives smoother, and the 1M feels higher quality, but both vehicles are sufficiently comfortable and practical to run daily duties. Today has taught me that the 1M is a sports car with unexpected refinement, while the CTS-V wagon is a family hauler with unexpected speed.
So, which car would each of us take home?
Karl wants the 1M. Badly. It’s a sports car experience unlike any he’s ever owned and would fit his urban two-adults-and-one-dog family perfectly.
And me? I’m still wed to the CTS-V wagon. It scores at least 8 out of 10 in every dynamic measure and hauls ass for my family of four. For tactile delights, I can’t think of a better analog grand tourer. And for weekend sport, I’d rather have a more aggressive complete sports car than the 1M.
Mike's Steering Column 