BMW 1 Series 128ti – long-term review

Something my colleague Sam Philip wrote recently struck a chord. No, not the invasion of orange interlopers, but how quickly you acclimatise to your new car.

It’s an interesting point. The ‘offness’ he experienced with his Leon dissipated after a few days – we’ve all been there, amirite – but after less than 10 minutes behind the wheel of the 128ti, I just knew it was right.

It’s testament to BMW’s fine chassis work on the “exclusively front-wheel-drive” hot hatch that it instantly bonds. In the literature surrounding the release of the car, BMW talked about “unfiltered driving pleasure”, which – to those of a certain age – can only bring up memories of rear-drive yobbery. Indeed, the old 1 Series used to trade on its RWD setup.

But then, BMW’s been pumping out front-drive wunderkinds for decades now in the shape of the Mini, so it’s no surprise this first attempt at uprooting the Golf GTI is so well sorted. It’s 10mm lower than a regular 1 Series and gets the stiffer anti-roll bars and roll-bar mounts from the M135i. Most importantly though, it gets a proper Torsen mechanical LSD on the front axle.

This is crucial in how sorted the 128ti feels. It just spears in and out of corners so adroitly; it’s polished, rather than raucous, that’s for sure, but then it’s aiming for that apple-polishing GTI. Banzai front-drive heroics makes way for a general feeling of unbreakable grip, but there’s a well-connected lineage if you’re dissecting some bends: the steering feels satisfying, direct (a bespoke setup to this car), the front wheels dig in for grip, there’s little histrionics, and you simply fire out the other end.

The lack of adaptive suspension – it’s a passive setup from the factory – doesn’t matter, because the balance it offers between ‘excitable Golden Retriever’ and 'long-distance composure' is fine. Even if the suspension was adaptive, this would probably be the setting you’d leave it in most times anyway.

If there was something that’d stall the 128ti’s tenacious front grip though, it’d probably be a screw. Which is exactly what did stall the 128ti – a giant metal interloper that launched an assault on the driver’s side front Michelin Pilot Sport 4.

It flattened the tyre in no time, but thankfully the repair foam worked an absolute treat (there’s no spare of course) and the tyre held its pressure well until the car was nursed to a safe, secure location. Good rubber of course, replaced for the sum of £120.

I can confirm that didn’t feel right.