There was a weird little window in the late noughties when the car world went a bit mad. I’m talking 2007 to 2010, right in the middle of a global recession. This was the era that gave us the Lexus LFA and its glorious 9,000 rpm scream. Tesla dropped the Roadster and proved EVs could actually be fast. Formula 1 downsized from V10s to V8s. GM pulled the plug on Pontiac and Hummer. And over in Dingolfing, BMW started building what might be the most unhinged, nonsensical, hair-brained vehicle they’ve ever made.

The BMW E61 M5 is an enigma. It is simultaneously utterly fantastic and wholly pointless. Here is a two-ton family hauler, equipped with a F1-inspired 500 bhp V10 powerplant with individual throttle bodies, a hardcore 7-speed SMG (Sequential Manual Gearbox), an exhaust note that sounds more like a Ducati motorcycle, and a service schedule akin to a Ferrari 360 Modena.

It offers enough performance to make four out of its five potential occupants physically uncomfortable: 0–60 mph in 4.5 seconds and a top speed of 190 mph with the M Driver’s Package. Yes, you can barrel down the autobahn at just shy of 200 mph, dog in the boot. But with a sub-200-mile real-world range, it’d probably get beaten cross-country by a 535d. Then again, what 535d can atomize its rear tyres in third gear while the family Labrador slides around in the boot?

I think there’s a certain fantasy around big, practical performance cars. The idea that they’re not just a hobby but a genuinely useful tool. A car you can convince your wife to agree to buy, for those spirited IKEA trips, of course. And maybe, just maybe, owning a stupidly powerful car with a big boot might one day save the day and earn you the validation of your loved ones, whether it’s an emergency vet trip on a Sunday or helping someone move house the day after.

The reality is however, they aren’t. Performance wagons are 99% hobby. That is what makes them so brilliant, they put a smile on your face. Even better, people see it pull up next to them at the lights and assume it’s just a standard wagon. Then it dusts them from a standstill. But if I wanted a practical car for lugging my wardrobe, the E61 BMW M5 would not be commanding the top place on the list.

I love the tasteful spec on this example, especially the silver 10-spoke wheels that hide beastly AP Racing 6-piston brakes, a subtle but serious upgrade. This one is owned by a family of four, proving you can have both performance and practicality.

Compared to rivals like the C6 Audi RS6 V10, the E61 BMW M5 is lighter, offers a more direct steering feel, and trades the RS6’s twin-turbo brute force for a high-revving (8,250 rpm) naturally aspirated V10. I was lucky enough to hear this Wunderwaffe roar out of the car park, and no wagon has (or ever will) come close to that exhaust note. That said, in the real world, the 535d is a tangibly better all-round package. Still, I know which one I’d choose.