‘Mini! The Mini!’ That’s always the earnest high-pitched reply when I’m in the uncharacteristically indulgent mood (always in the monsoon) to ask my wife the question, ‘Which car do you think we should buy?’ It’s been that way ever since I took her for a drive in an older-gen Mini Cooper S Convertible some years ago. At the time, it was surprising, considering she’s the more practical one of us, by a few thousand kilometres. But I did get it — there’s really nothing like a proper Mini to ignite that rarely-witnessed four-wheeled fire in any mind. And, after a month spent in EVs of all kinds, I really needed to drive something that had carved out a soft spot in my two-wheeled heart a long, long time ago.
Now, when I say I want a Mini, it’s the original one — the original tiny marvel that was called by a list of names too long to mention here. Also, it is quite likely that nostalgia is for those with unresolved traumas in their pasts. I know this because of the number of old motorcycles in my garage. And the affinity of the original Mini is what has always drawn me to the newer ones that’ve been in India for some time now. I haven’t yet driven the ‘ye olde’ one, but its descendants haven’t really fallen short of my expectations. This one doesn’t, either… kind of.
The Mini, after all, is the rebellious teenager that the world has been forcing to grow up. That’s the overwhelming part of its appeal, I imagine. Ever wonder where the VW Beetle and the Fiat 500 went? And so, in order to exist, the Mini Cooper S has been compelled to mature — and that’s no bad thing, really. Because my wife and I always sit up front, and there’s more than enough space for our two cats on the back bench to use as scratching pads; I wouldn’t want two big dogs back there, though, let alone two human beings. Both would make similar howls of protest, I bet.
But the amputee-friendly legspace of the rear seat wasn’t what caught my attention at first — it was that massive moon of a touchscreen in the middle of the dashboard. Its historical position was born of a production necessity; the original Mini had a hole in the centre of the dashboard through which went a rod that’d rotate the car’s body on the assembly line when it was painting time. A speedometer was stuck there just to cover up said hole. Alec Issigonis, the first Mini’s designer and who also made the template for the modern small car with it, would’ve fainted if he’d seen the new screen and what it does, that’s for sure. Which, if he were next to me in the car, would’ve been a good thing, considering the amount of time I spent figuring out how to start the damn thing.
Okay, my own technological sensibilities are getting outdated with each passing week, sure. But I don’t see any reason why a Mini should be awakened with a turn switch that I last remember seeing on mixer-grinders and old ceiling fan regulators. And the drive selector was another similar disappointment — but not more than the absence of paddle shifters behind the steering wheel. This was a most conspicuous lack of judgement in a car that has a dedicated ‘go-kart’ mode. In fact, my hands instinctively kept looking for them every time I decided to have fun with the Mini. Which was more or less all the time. Sigh. Here was the growing-up part in full effect, for reasons I will never understand.
For some reason, the Cooper S, despite being one car, had some seven different ‘theme’ settings, with matching lighting in the interior to boot; I only swapped between ‘timeless’ and ‘go-kart’, obviously, because none of the others made any sense to me in a car I’ve come to adore for exactly those virtues. You don’t buy a Mini for ‘economy’ or for something called ‘vivid’ or ‘core’, whatever those are supposed to be. Needless to say, the Cooper S felt best in ‘go-kart’ mode. Isn’t that what this modern-day saviour from four-wheeled boredom, which we have enough of already, is supposed to be? And that, I’m happy to inform you, this Mini still is. Oh, very much so.
With 204 bhp at the reckless mercy of my right foot in Mumbai, the Cooper S wasn’t exactly going to be shy. At anything from a standstill to medium speeds, my hands were full with a grin inducing amount of torque steer. All managed quite proficiently by the Mini’s electronics, of course, from which I needed all the help I could get in the middle of a vociferous monsoon. This new Mini wasn’t as dedicated a proponent of melodious internal-combustion flatulence as I remembered the last-gens being, but it wasn’t totally boring, either. And when I insisted, it got going at a rate that a lot of the cars on our roads would stare at in disbelief; Mini claims a top speed of 242 kph… let’s just leave it at that, shall we?
Most importantly, this Mini felt way more assured than the previous ones I’d driven. Now, again, I was torn between the old and the new; it’s not that this one was not involving, but the old ones were on another level. Then again, this one was more comfortable, so I certainly wasn’t complaining. Sure, I was being moved around a bit on the road, but it was nothing compared to the proper jostling the older ones threw my way. Maybe the people who make the Mini are the same age as I am, and they know what they’re doing. Because despite being more comfortable, this Mini felt nearly as sharp as the previous ones. The brakes? They braked, and how. The steering? As chunky in its connection to the road as it was to hold. Maybe growing up isn’t such a bad thing? Hmm.
And grown up, it has — even if it fit in my parking space like a toddler’s hand in one of my riding gloves. Every single time, I stood there looking at it, the Mini winking its left LED eye whenever I unlocked it; I lost count of the number of times I did it just for the heck of it. It’s still a cute car, even if it’s become a bit more pug-like on its face. I bet BMW cannot afford to mess around with its proportions even if it wanted to, though the front wheels now don’t exactly occupy the corners they were always supposed to. And ditching those Union Jack tail-lights was a major gaffe — somebody needs to get fired for that, if they haven’t been already.
However, despite the painstakingly engineered cute logos on its website, and the demands of oppressive regulations (never mind which management executives call the shots today), the Mini still has its own personality. But it has too much going on in a car that harks back to a simpler time. Yet, it still retains that irreplaceable character that only a Mini can possess (no, not the Countryman, sorry). It was a post-war necessity that’s today become a fashion statement. But it’s still made in a building in Oxford, England, where the first Mini rolled out of. That’s a pedigree and a half right there. And, at least for now, no one else makes anything remotely close to replicating what it does. Then again, I think there’s a bit too much BMW in it; we could debate all year long if that’s a good thing or not, but it is what it is. And despite that, it still doesn’t stop me from wanting one. Just don’t tell my wife.
