It was a Thursday. I was actually kind of nervous. I woke up knowing that in a few hours there would be a new BMW M4 in my driveway. I never usually get nervous about driving a new car. Last year I drove the Viper, the Corvette, the i8 — and not one gave me as many butterflies in my stomach as this thing did.

In my mind, the BMW M4 was a return to all things that were great about the brand. A smaller displacement engine, a lighter frame, and a manual gearbox, of course. Where the previous generation M3 coupe — while still being wonderful in itself — got a big V8 and a heavy body, the M4 was BMW’s rebirth of a true sports car. At least, that was my thought process going into this. So, the expectations were high, to say the least.

A few hours later and there it sat — a brand new BMW M4 with a bright orange paint job, shiny black wheels, and hips that looked like they belonged in a dirty movie. The lines were absolutely clean as can be. Nowhere near as radically designed as the RC F, nor as subtly ugly as the Audi RS 5. It was just pretty. Clean and pretty. And the inside mimicked the exterior. The black leather, black plastics and black steering wheel were broken up beautifully by the red and blue stitching and emblazoned M badging. Even the M badges on the backs of the seats lit up — which was a very cheesy, American feature. I loved it. But with the subtleness of it all— the clean layout and the over simplified controls (which is something I’ve never described of a BMW in my...