The Last Toyota With An Inline-6 Doesn’t Actually Use A Toyota Engine







The inline six (or straight six) engine has been a perennial staple of Japanese tuner culture since the 1980s, particularly with Toyota. The megacorporation’s flagship sports car, the Supra, practically had its identity built around its infamous powertrains since day one, and that’s no accident. Toyota’s original design criteria called for the Celica Supra to have an elongated front end suitable for a straight six; every single generation of Supra that came after received straight six engines.

Of course, many other Toyotas have used straight sixes before and since, and that includes the venerable 2JZ; but the company has slowly and silently phased them out one by one until there was one remaining: the Supra. And now that its production is over, so too has Toyota’s straight six legacy — at least for now, or so we hope. But that statement’s only half-true; while the Supra may have boasted the famous Toyota badge and nameplate, it was actually developed as part of a joint venture with BMW, meaning the final Toyota straight six wasn’t even powered by a Toyota engine. It was instead powered by a BMW engine, or at least a partly BMW-branded one, specifically a B58 — the same engine as the M340i.

That partnership resulted in an engine that punched above its weight, and despite the trolls saying, “No no, it’s a BMW,” the truth is that the engine itself, as well as the car as a whole, was co-developed by both firms. It was a venerable, muscular powertrain that unfortunately sunsetted for Toyota in 2025 with the end of the partnership. Let’s discuss the engine itself and what happened that caused its demise.

What is Toyota’s final straight six actually like?

First up, let’s get the specs out of the way. The vehicle we’re discussing is the 2026 Toyota Supra Final Edition, which comes in multiple trim levels depending on region. The U.S. market example has no differentiation with the regular production Supra in terms of power figures, with the engine producing 382 hp and 368 lb-ft torque. For domestic Japanese and the European markets, however, Toyota launched what it calls a “partially upgraded model” which boosts power to 429 horsepower and torque to 420 lb-ft.

The original configuration of the engine bears the model number B58M30O1 found under the hood of six cylinder-equipped A90s. Various BMWs use what’s effectively the same B58, though different engines have their own individual parts and configurations, even within BMW’s lineup. The Supra’s iteration isn’t even the most powerful, with BMW squeezing out over 500 horsepower with the M-spec S58 variants.

That said, the Supra’s engine remains quite stout. Toyota’s upgrades center around optimized air flow, providing the Supra with an optimized intake air path and a low back-pressure catalyst within the exhaust. This minimizes airflow being blocked up by the catalytic converter like a dam and shooting back into the combustion chamber, a particularly important factor when you’re at high RPMs and the air needs to flow quickly. Toyota then tuned the engine for these newer parameters, finalizing the engine with its peak horsepower occurring at a healthy 6,000 RPM according to the dyno sheet. We absolutely loved this engine in the Supra, particularly when paired with a manual transmission.

Will we see another Toyota straight six?

Because the engine was employed as part of a partnership agreement that’s now ended, we’re not likely to see the B58 in anything else other than a BMW. Granted, that doesn’t mean that we’ll never see another Toyota straight six; stranger things have happened, like Mazda resurrecting the Wankel rotary to power concept cars and as a hybrid power generator, of all things.

Plus, we must consider that the Supra wasn’t the only car Toyota powered with a straight six; the engine is exceptionally smooth and simple, lending it well to luxury-oriented vehicles and forced-induction applications, as we’ve seen on the B58 itself. That said, straight sixes, including the B58 in the Supra, also come with various downsides. The first and most obvious is that they’re far longer than V6 engines, meaning they don’t pack as nicely into an engine bay and may face rigidity issues. 

Ultimately, with the Supra retired, that leaves Toyota without a horse in the mid-market sports car race; the new GR GT boasts numbers on-par with modern supercars, and will likely be priced accordingly. Where does that leave us? Put simply, Toyota would have to engineer a car from scratch to accept a straight six, which is certainly possible, though not particularly likely unless the company commits to building multiple models across a broader spectrum — think the 1990s and 2JZ in various Toyota and Lexus models. While we can certainly dream of such a renaissance, we won’t hold our breath.





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There are places in the world where everything feels accounted for. The roads are smooth, the signs are clear, and the experience has been carefully arranged long before you arrive. Adventure exists, technically, but only within boundaries that make it predictable. Nothing unexpected happens. Nothing pushes back.

And then there are places that still feel wild.

Not reckless. Not uncomfortable. Just untamed enough that you feel like a guest rather than a consumer. Places where the land doesn’t bend to human schedules, where weather sets the tone for the day, and where nature isn’t something you observe from a distance — it’s something you move through, adapt to, and occasionally surrender to. Traveling somewhere that still feels wild changes you in quiet, persistent ways. It slows your thinking. Sharpens your senses. Reminds you how small you are — and how good that can feel.

Alaska is the clearest example we know. But the feeling itself, the pull toward the wild, extends far beyond one place on the map.

The Absence of Predictability Is the Point

Baby bear Pavlovs Bay Alaska
Photo Credit: Jenn Coleman.

When you travel somewhere wild, certainty disappears almost immediately. Plans turn into loose outlines. Timelines soften. The assumption that you’re fully in control starts to fade — and that’s exactly where the experience opens up.

In Alaska, weather doesn’t politely cooperate. Flights wait. Boats adjust for tides. Trails change overnight. Wildlife appears on its own terms, not when you’re ready with a camera in hand. At first, this unsettles people. We’re trained to optimize travel, to squeeze value from every hour, to move efficiently from one highlight to the next.

Wild places resist that mindset. They force you to slow down and pay attention instead.

Instead of rushing, you find yourself watching clouds crawl across a mountain range or listening for the distant crack of shifting ice. You wait because someone has spotted a bear across the river, and suddenly waiting doesn’t feel like lost time — it feels like the entire point. In wild places, patience isn’t a virtue. It’s a requirement.

Nature Isn’t a Backdrop — It’s the Main Character

Endless Adventures Await-Moose - Alaska Glacier Lodge Palmer Alaska
Photo Credit: Jenn Coleman.

In many destinations, nature plays a supporting role. It’s something you admire between meals and museum visits, a scenic pause before moving on to the next activity.

In wild places, nature is the storyline.

In Alaska, the scale alone recalibrates your perspective. Mountains don’t rise politely in the distance; they loom. Glaciers don’t shimmer passively; they groan, fracture, and move. Rivers aren’t decorative — they’re powerful, cold, and very much alive. Wildlife isn’t something you visit. It’s something you encounter, often unexpectedly, and always on its own terms.

That reality changes how you move through the world. You speak more quietly. You scan the horizon. You learn to read the land not just for beauty, but for meaning — wind direction, cloud movement, water levels. You stop expecting nature to perform for you and start allowing it to lead.

Comfort Looks Different in the Wild

View from my room Homer Inn and Spa
Photo Credit: Jenn Coleman.

Traveling somewhere wild doesn’t mean giving up comfort, but it does redefine what comfort actually means. Luxury here isn’t about excess or polish. It’s about warmth after cold. Shelter after exposure. A solid meal after a long day outside.

Some of our most memorable places to stay in Alaska weren’t remarkable because of opulence, but because of where they were. Remote enough that silence felt complete. Close enough to the land that stepping outside meant being fully immersed — weather, wildlife, and all. Comfort in wild places is practical and intentional, and because of that, it feels deeply satisfying.

You notice and appreciate the basics more. Dry socks. Hot coffee. A sturdy roof during a storm. These aren’t assumed; they’re earned. And because you’re more present, they land differently. They feel grounding in a way that polished luxury sometimes doesn’t.

Your Senses Wake Up

Matanuska Glacier, Alaska
Photo Credit: Deposit Photos.

One of the quieter gifts of wild travel is how it reactivates your senses. In daily life, we filter relentlessly just to get through the day — noise, movement, light, information. Wild places strip that filter away.

You smell rain before it arrives. You hear ice shifting miles off. You notice how light changes minute by minute. In Alaska, even the air feels sharper, cleaner, alive. You become aware of your body in space — where you step, how fast you move, what’s happening around you.

This heightened awareness isn’t stressful. It’s calming. It pulls you into the present without effort or instruction. It’s mindfulness without the app, presence without performance.

You Remember What Adventure Actually Means

Hatcher Pass - Gold Cord Lake Trail Alaska
Photo Credit: Jenn Coleman.

Somewhere along the way, adventure became a marketing word. But real adventure, especially in wild places, isn’t about adrenaline or bragging rights. It’s about curiosity, humility, and uncertainty.

Adventure means not knowing exactly how the day will unfold. It means trusting guides and locals. It means adapting instead of controlling. In Alaska, that might look like hiking through mist, unsure if the clouds will lift. Kayaking through ice-dotted water where seals surface nearby. Boarding a small plane knowing weather could change everything.

And when things don’t go according to plan, that doesn’t diminish the experience — it becomes the story. Wild places remind you that the goal isn’t perfection. It’s participation.

Time Feels Different Out Here

Yllas Ski Resort Finland
Photo Credit: Jenn Coleman.

Wild destinations stretch time in ways that are hard to explain until you experience them. Days feel full without feeling rushed. Hours pass unnoticed when you’re fully engaged. Evenings arrive gently, not abruptly.

Without constant stimulation or packed schedules, your nervous system settles. You sleep more deeply. Wake earlier. Feel less urgency to check your phone. In Alaska, the light itself reshapes time, lingering late into the evening in summer, quietly reminding you that clocks are human inventions, not natural laws.

That shift doesn’t disappear when you leave. You return home more aware of how often urgency is manufactured — and more protective of your time because of it.

You Feel Like You’ve Earned the Experience

Kayaking Glacier Bay Alaska
Photo Credit: Jenn Coleman.

There’s a quiet satisfaction that comes from traveling somewhere that isn’t effortless. Wild places often require extra steps — small planes, ferries, long drives, patience. But effort creates investment.

When you arrive, you don’t feel like you stumbled into the experience. You chose it. And that choice creates respect — for the land, for the people who live there, and for the experience itself. In Alaska, simply reaching some destinations comes with stories before the stay even begins.

Wild travel doesn’t hand itself to you. It asks something in return.

Why We’re Drawn to the Wild Now More Than Ever

Waterfall Cove Alaska
Photo Credit: Jenn Coleman.

The pull toward wild places isn’t accidental. After years of constant connectivity, crowded destinations, and carefully curated experiences, many travelers are craving something real. Something grounding. Something that doesn’t ask them to perform.

Wild places offer perspective. They remind us that the world is bigger than our inboxes, that discomfort isn’t dangerous, and that awe still exists — no explanation required. Alaska sits at the heart of this longing, but it isn’t alone. You feel it in remote coastlines, high deserts, northern forests, and far-flung mountain towns around the world.

What unites them isn’t geography. It’s restraint. These places haven’t been overly softened or simplified. They still ask you to meet them where they are.

What You Take Home From a Wild Place

Hikers hiking, enjoying the view of Famous Patagonia Mount Fitz
Photo Credit: Deposit Photos.

You don’t return with just photos. You come back quieter, more observant, and more comfortable with uncertainty. You gain a clearer sense of what you actually need — and what you don’t.

Traveling somewhere that still feels wild recalibrates your sense of scale and self. It reminds you that not everything needs improvement, explanation, or monetization. Some things are powerful simply because they exist.

And once you’ve felt that — once you’ve stood somewhere that didn’t care whether you were there or not — it changes how you travel going forward. You start seeking places that ask something of you. Places that feel alive. Places that leave room for surprise.

Because wildness, in the end, isn’t something you conquer.

It’s something you experience — and carry with you long after you’ve left.

Hi! We are Jenn and Ed Coleman aka Coleman Concierge. In a nutshell, we are a Huntsville-based Gen X couple sharing our stories of amazing adventures through activity-driven transformational and experiential travel.



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