Late autumn, the sky ablaze in golden-hour glow over a mountain pass between the Alps and the Dolomites. The road winds sharply ahead, each curve just sharp enough to let me wring every ounce of power from the engine. Hairpin turns have their charm, but I’d trade them for gentler bends – more right-handers than screaming lefties, please. Music? Maybe later. Right now, adrenaline has hijacked the playlist. All I hear is the engine’s primal roar, the shriek of tires clawing for grip and the staccato snap of each gear shift. Even the faint squeal of leather beneath my palms is lost in this wild symphony. This is pure freedom. A liberation. No destination, no ticking clock. Just me and the machine, daring each other to dive deeper into every curve. A duel with the road where no one loses, only victory shared between steel, asphalt, and the heartbeat in my chest.
For those who drive not to arrive, but to feel alive.
A commonly misunderstood concept
I keep ending up in debates about what actually makes a car come alive. Most cars are just metal from A to B. But then there’s that rare 5%, the dynamic ones, the cars that talk back. The ones that speed up your brain, change your posture, and put that stupid grin on your face when the chassis and your instincts line up for a split second. Most people never feel that raw, unfiltered connection. But those of us who do? We chase it every chance we get: corner after corner.
Many people confuse speed with driving dynamics. But that’s rookie thinking. Real driving joy has nothing to do with horsepower. If you were lucky enough to get your license back when traffic was thinner than clean city air, you know exactly how much fun you could wring out of a modest engine. Back then it wasn’t about power. It was about skill, timing, and a bit of creativity behind the wheel. The stuff no spec sheet can measure.
Exploring the colorful Transfăgărășan in Romania.My idea of a dynamic car
Whichever makes me want to drive fast – as my friend once put it so elegantly. My first ride? Opel Astra 1.8i. With 66 kW, it felt respectable back then. Today, its design might seem like a punchline (hello, torsion-beam rear axle), but for a few years it gave me a genuine driving buzz. Of course, I pushed too far once, ending up in a ditch and getting an unplanned masterclass in oversteer. The tow truck ride home left me wondering: how could I make this thing handle better? Enter Eibach springs and low-profile Michelin Pilot Exaltos. Eventually, I realized: it’s not all about horsepower. On my favorite backroads, the Astra held its own against stronger cars. Two years later, I “upgraded” to a 1996 Vectra B 1.8i 16V – still no racer, but with independent rear suspension and far better handling.
I don’t know about you, but there were many times when I’d jump into my car just to lift my spirits and drive away. Every time I’d return feeling reborn.
Of course, like every speed and handling hungry driver, I eventually found my way to a BMW. Funny enough, I spent more time eyeing Audis before I got my driver’s license, but once I was legally behind the wheel, I knew exactly what I wanted. A test drive in my neighbor’s E36 325i sealed the deal. Let’s just say I was the only one bold enough to lay down some donuts.
The BMW story
Then, one evening, on yet another aimless drive, fate appeared in my rearview mirror: a BMW E39 528i. Back then, it felt like a spaceship on wheels. We played cat and mouse with my Opel through the city and eventually we both pulled over. With a handshake, we went from strangers to kindred spirits. The mistery driver gave me a ride and had me hooked. I’d always loved sedans, but this was something else entirely. Perfectly proportioned, yet alive with the spirit of a sports car. The aluminum chassis felt razor-sharp, the steering precise and communicative, the flawless balance. And then there was the soundtrack: the deep, throaty growl of that BMW straight-six, a voice so full of presence it made the car feel alive, breathing, urging me deeper into every corner.
A year or two later, I got one of my own. Together we’ve carved through countless wonderful twisty roads. And it’s still with me, having clocked 350,000 km in total. Even now, it remains the best car I’ve ever owned. It just still feels right.
At one point, I swapped in Bilstein B16 racing suspension. It was so stiff, the female passengers needed a sport bra, but the handling? Absolutely next level!
