Bavarian B-Road Therapy: Canyon Carving in the 128i

If you’ve been following along, you’ll know I’ve invested quite a bit of time, money, and effort prepping my 128i for track duty. I recently took it to its first proper track outing and wrote a detailed review of its performance. You probably also know what the next steps are in making the car even more capable on track.

But then it hit me: I live in Colorado. As in, home of the Rocky Mountains—arguably some of the best canyon roads in the country. Shouldn't I be out running amok through every twisty backroad I can find, seeing how this moderately modified little E82 performs in its natural habitat?

I'm glad you asked (even if you didn’t). Today, I finally took the 128i on a proper canyon run with my local BMW CCA chapter, tackling a beautiful route through Estes Park, Devils Gulch, Glen Haven, and ending near Drake. So—how does the 128i stack up as a canyon carver? I’ll get to that in a minute. First, some context on my recent canyon experiences to set the stage for my expectations.

Just a few weeks ago, I returned from Flyin' Miata Summer Camp, where I spent several days behind the wheel of my beloved ND Miata—on track and through some of the most stunning mountain roads in the state. It was an absolute joy. At just 2,300 pounds, the Miata delivered that signature blend of lightness, immediacy, and simplicity that makes it such a beloved driver's car.

But coming back from that experience had a cost: everything else felt like a bloated pig. After days of driving the Miata, I found myself thinking, This is why Miata Is Always The Answer. None of my other cars could match the Miata's tactile charm. Despite having several cars in my stable, I kept reaching for the Miata keys—everything else was collecting dust.

Then life stepped in. Due to some work obligations, I spent the following week behind the wheel of a soulless people-mover—an uninspired, floaty appliance that, if it had feelings, would probably be questioning its will to live. But oddly enough, I saw this as a good thing. It was a palate cleanser. It erased the Miata high and reset my expectations to something a little more... mundane.

So when the BMW CCA drive came up, the timing couldn't have been better.

After a week of automotive anesthesia, hopping back into the 128i felt like a revelation. It had been a while since I drove it without the Miata as a point of comparison, and I'd forgotten just how much of a driver’s car my modified E82 has become. But it’s more than that—it’s a jack-of-all-trades.

The drive to the starting point was over an hour away, mostly highway. No problem. The 128i soaks up freeway miles with ease. It might be one of the lighter modern-ish BMWs, but at its core, it’s still a BMW—it’s built for high-speed cruising as much as for carving corners.

That brings me to the elephant in the room: my 128i isn’t stock. It’s not a full-blown track weapon, but it’s far from showroom spec. I won’t bore you with the full list of mods, but from a handling standpoint, here’s what matters: it’s running a Bilstein B12 cup kit, M3/1M control arms, Dinan camber plates, Whiteline rear suspension bushing inserts, Hawk ER-1 track pads, and a square setup of 17x8.5" Apex wheels wrapped in grippy RT660+ rubber.

To say the handling has improved over stock would be an understatement. To kick off this fun-filled 90-minute cruise, the route from Estes Park to Drake via Devils Gulch and Glen Haven proved to be a driver’s delight—a blend of tight switchbacks, flowing curves, and elevation changes that demand full attention. Dropping out of Estes Park, the road winds sharply through narrow canyon walls, offering brief but striking glimpses of Lumpy Ridge and Longs Peak. As you descend into Devils Gulch and Glen Haven, the scenery shifts to a quiet, forested valley, with the road tracing the twists of the North Fork of the Big Thompson River. From Glen Haven to Drake, the pavement evens out into a rhythm of smooth bends and river crossings, with sunlight dappling through the trees. It’s a route that rewards rhythm, awareness, and precision—scenic, yes, but best enjoyed with both hands on the wheel and eyes locked on the next apex. The perfect proving ground to get a feel for how my modified 128i performs out in the real world. If you read my track review of the 128i, you’ll know that the lack of body control at 10/10ths was a bit disconcerting, and the car’s tendency to understeer on track left me more than a little frustrated. But what about the canyons?

In short: my modified 128i is absolutely divine on a twisty mountain road.

The Bilstein B12 setup clearly wasn’t designed with track duty in mind—it’s a street suspension through and through. But up to about 8/10ths, body motions are well controlled, giving the car a sense of polish that feels less like a tuned street build and more like a proper OEM M car. It’s maybe ever-so-slightly on the firm side, but never what I’d call harsh. It didn’t beat me up or wear me out over the four hours I spent behind the wheel that day—and it never has, regardless of distance. There’s just enough suspension travel to keep the tires in contact with the road at all times, which is exactly what you want when carving down unfamiliar, flowing mountain passes.

Speaking of tires—let’s talk about those for a second.

A lot of people instinctively reach for the widest wheels and stickiest tires they can find, thinking it’ll “improve” handling. And sure, if your car lives on the track, that might be true. But for a car that spends most of its life on the street, especially in suburban settings, I’d actually caution against it. Too much grip can make a car feel overly serious and sterile at normal speeds. To get anywhere near the limit, you have to push hard—hard enough that it starts to feel risky on public roads, both for your safety and your license.

This is part of why I’ve had more fun in Miatas than I have in Corvettes over the years—the limits are lower and more accessible, which makes back road drives way more engaging. It’s that old (and still very true) saying: it’s more fun to drive a slow car fast than a fast car slow.

Now, does that mean you should go out and grab the cheapest, lowest-grip all-seasons you can find? Let’s not get carried away. Even for street use, it's worth spending a bit extra on tires that provide good turn-in response, predictable breakaway behavior, and solid feedback through the wheel—qualities you’re unlikely to find in bargain-bin rubber.

With that said, I’m currently running 200tw Falken RT660+ tires—track-oriented rubber, no doubt. Around town, I’ll be honest: these tires actually made the 128i less fun to drive than the thinner Continentals I pulled off the car. You read that right. Less fun. The added grip made it nearly impossible to coax out any slip angle at lower speeds, which took away some of the car’s playful character.

But in the canyons? These tires came alive. At any speed I pitched the 128i into a corner, the RT660+ tires stuck like they’d been dipped in Gorilla Glue. The steering wheel brimmed with feedback, and the grip gave the car an almost superhuman sense of control.

That understeer I complained about on track? In the canyons, I’ll take that any day over oversteer. Entering a blind, decreasing-radius corner a little too hot, the last thing I want is the rear of the car stepping out next to a thousand-foot drop. In these environments—where you're not pushing 10/10ths (or at least, you really shouldn’t be)—a slight push near the limit is actually a confidence booster. And in practice, the 128i feels very neutral around 8/10ths, delivering constant communication about what the chassis is doing and building driver confidence with every corner.

With a 104.7-inch wheelbase, the 128i strikes a happy medium. It’s not stretched out like a current-gen M4 (112.5") or 6th-gen Camaro (110.7"), but it’s also not as ultra-nimble as my ND Miata with its 90.9" wheelbase. That gives the E82 a kind of best-of-both-worlds feel—stable and planted at highway speeds, yet still willing to dance when the road turns twisty. It’s playful and composed, even if those two qualities seem contradictory.

And then there’s the width. At just 68.8 inches wide, the 128i is shockingly narrow for a modern coupe with usable rear seats. For reference, the ND Miata—a car often described as "tiny"—is 68.3 inches wide. That's right: my 128i is basically the same width as my Miata. Compare that to a current Mustang at 75.5 inches or a C8 Corvette at 76.1, and it becomes clear why the E82 feels so comfortable on tight, technical canyon roads. That narrow footprint makes placement easy and adds to the overall sense of confidence when threading through tight switchbacks or hugging a shoulder-less edge.

So how does it compare to the ND Miata on a canyon road?

I can’t believe I’m about to type this, but: my modified 128i is actually better in the mountains.

The ND is a riot around town, but on faster mountain roads, its overly soft, floaty suspension and tendency to oversteer at the limit make it a bit nerve-racking once you start pushing. And while its electric power steering is decent—good even, for an EPS rack—it still can’t hold a candle to the hydraulic setup in the E82 when it comes to feel and communication.

So, as much as it pains me to say it: in this setting, Miata isn’t the answer. (Though to be fair, I think the ND is only one major suspension mod away from reclaiming the title. Stay tuned.)

You’ve read my criticism of the 128i on track, and my plans to address it. You’ve read my issues with the ND Miata, both on track and in the canyons. So what complaints do I have about the 128i in the canyons?

Honestly, not much. Which, coming from me, is saying a lot.

Sure, a better cupholder wouldn’t hurt—my drink of choice took a few unexpected flights around the cabin. And yes, slightly shorter gearing and a proper mechanical LSD would be nice. But even with stock gearing and the eDiff, the car still had enough midrange punch (thanks to the 3-stage intake manifold and tune) to feel right at home. And the electronic diff, while far from ideal, wasn’t a liability when paired with the sticky RT660s. I’ll likely still add a real LSD and 3.73s down the road, but for canyon duty, they aren’t deal-breakers.

Without quite meaning to, I seem to have built an absolute weapon in the canyons.

Which leaves me at a bit of a crossroads: do I continue building the 128i into a more track-focused machine, knowing that might compromise its fantastic street manners? Or do I embrace what it’s become—a street-first car that’s still capable on track, even if it gives up some lap time in the process?

I’m not sure yet. But I’ve got a lot to think about.

Stay tuned.