After two days of driving the brand-new 5 series, I was surprised that the Zen of BMW still hadn’t kicked in. Usually when you climb into one of Bavaria’s best, it takes about one manhandled curve to stir the automotive purist in your soul and raise you to a higher plane of driverdom. But I had piloted some pretty spirited cars in the weeks before I encountered the 530—the Chrysler Crossfire, the Cadillac XLR, Infiniti’s Q45—and they had left some powerful impressions. For once, a BMW just didn’t seem that special.

Then it happened. Diligent employee that I am, I had worked well past the evening rush hour. The roads were clear when I began the ride home. The red glow of the instruments and the form-fitting contours of the driver’s seat tempered anxious thoughts about a long commute. On the radio, a stompin’ old tune by Charlie Parker called "K.C. Blues" got my toes tapping. Then I hit a familiar curve and zoomed through it like a terrain-hugging cruise missile. I raced through the next bend a little faster, the sedan maintaining its aristocratic composure as it mastered the pavement. The rest of the trip took on the character of an amusement park ride, a series of controlled thrills that made me forget about time and tedium. Either I had finally hit the BMW Zone, or I was simply delirious from working too much.

Why the delayed reaction? Because the new 5 series is more subtle than I expected. The 225-horsepower six-cylinder engine is racy, but not a world-beater. And the test car’s handling, while sublime, was enhanced by some special tuning that comes with a $3,300 "sport" package. The sedan’s charisma comes not so much from those conventional measures of merit as from a harmony of artistic design and proficient engineering. The interior consists of classic gauges and controls that will be familiar to BMW acolytes, for instance, yet there are a few museum-quality design features that set the sedan apart. The interior door panels flow like sculpture, and the bowed, satin-nickel shafts that form the door handles make you feel like you’re grabbing hold of modern art. Even the cupholders—an American invention that German manufacturers have famously disdained—are artful. The one for the driver is recessed into the dashboard on the passenger side, only to come arcing out of its hiding hole toward the driver when you push the button. That kind of mathematical elegance made it feel like I was littering in the Louvre whenever I left a soda bottle or newspaper in the front seat.

A notable feature is BMW’s unique "iDrive" system, the computerized module that is meant to help the driver handle most of the car’s functions. When iDrive debuted on the 7 series last year its complexity caused an uproar among car aficionados. BMW evidently heard their complaints, since the version on the 5 series is simpler and has a few escape hatches, such as a button on the console that lets you return instantly to the main menu. The result is something much closer to what BMW is aiming for, namely a centralized system to handle the myriad features on a luxury car and reduce dashboard clutter.

Improved simplicity doesn’t come cheap, though. The 5 series starts at about $40,000, and as with many BMWs, basic-seeming options quickly raise the price. Standard upholstery is a leatherlike vinyl, for instance—to get the real thing you have to spring for a $2,400 "premium" package. And if you’re not suited to the six-speed manual transmission, an automatic will add another $1,275. That’s probably the ultimate test of whether you’re in the BMW Zone—whether you’re willing to part with that kind of cash.