The BMW M3. It's very gorgeous in that familiar, non-exciting, seen-it-all-before kind of way. You know, like a blonde, American model. It's like the Marissa Miller of cars, ridiculously hot in a very expected way. And just like Ms. Marissa Miller (the other M3, perhaps?), that's not at all an insult. They're both composed of deliciously sumptuous curves. It's a symbol of reliably good looks that will get you very far in life that will impress the general public but won't blow the tops off of anybody familiar with the competition at the top end of their respective industries. As CNet's review puts it, "while it is a great-looking car, it doesn't earn a top design rating as it's not a complete head-turner." That said, both Ms. Miller and the M3 are exceptionally pleasant and stimulating in every sense of the word. I can't say anything about the character of Ms. Miller, but I have seen the M3 blow by me blazingly fast. Yes, it's the good life for those lucky individuals who find themselves in an M3. But I'd rather have me a Ferrari.
