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So we found a $3,011 twin-turbo N54 straight-six BMW with over 230,000 km of “character”.

First mission: get a key coded. Miraculously, it started.

Second: repair our ears. It was straight-piped, of course. A muffler fixed that.

Then came the diff whine. And a wheel bearing whine. And the coolant leak. You get the idea.

Before asking the BMW to survive Targa, we fixed those and replaced every known weak link. Water pump, hoses, plastic bits, old fluids – all of it.

We also discovered it had a Stage 1 tune, because what 135i doesn’t these days?

With that extra horsepower, we needed stopping power. Not just to keep up with the performance profile of the car, but because the 135i had a stock diff that used braking for traction control. Over 2 days of hard driving, that was going to be a problem.

So we rolled it into RDA Brakes Service Center to get new RDA slotted discs and performance pads, alongside DOT 5.1 fluid for the extra temperature headroom. We also fitted fresh Code9 shocks and thicker Whiteline sway bars front and rear. Finally, a proper wheel alignment tied it all together.

And somehow, it all worked.

The 135i felt tight. Less body roll, sharper steering, brakes like an anchor. It was ready.

So we embarked on the 6 hours journey from Auckland to Palmerston North, bags packed, helmets ready, and no idea what we were getting into.

Within ten minutes of leaving Auckland, disaster. Smoke from the radiator and coolant splatter. Bloody hell.

We limped back to the RDA Brakes Service Centre who diagnosed a hairline crack in the radiator. Terminal, if ignored. Without a booking, they sourced and fitted a new one within hours. We were back on the road, only a little behind schedule.

By the time we reached Palmerston North, we’d added a boost leak and ABS light to the mix.

Luckily, a competition team’s service crew took pity on us and cleaned a wheel speed sensor, clearing the ABS fault. The boost leak was still there, but at least we had stability control back.

This was all before the Tour even started.

The next morning, we assembled with the rest of the Touring convoy.  There was everything from Holden Monaro’s to a brand-new Aston Martin. Our slightly wounded 135i looked right at home.

After a safety briefing, we set off. The first stage eased us into the rhythm of cutting through closed roads, double yellows be damned. Then it picked up. And suddenly, we were flat out through rural backroads at speed. We didn’t say a word to each other. We were locked in.

By the third stage, we’d found our groove and were laughing, grunting, and yelling near the front of the pack, down on boost but up on bravery. The car felt like it was on rails. Gentle Annie was the highlight stage: sweeping bends, endless elevation, and scenery that was distracting enough to be dangerous.

That night, over beers and war stories, the makeshift pit crew found a split O-ring in an intercooler pipe. They literally superglued it back together. It worked. Sort of.

Day Two was even better. Seven more stages, the pace higher, and confidence climbing still. Andy nailed the pace notes and somehow the BMW kept up with cars worth ten times as much. Until the final stage.

A knock. We coasted to the roadside, and the service crew confirmed our fear… bottom-end bearing failure. The 135i was done. But it had given us everything it had, right to the end.

We transformed from two idiots to two slightly more experienced idiots over one epic weekend of Targa.

The little BMW almost survived everything we threw at it, thanks mostly to the Targa Community and people at RDA Brakes Service Centers. It sounds cliche, but it wasn’t just the driving that stood out – it was the people and the community around Targa that were truly special.

We’ll definitely be back next year.