MINI

GETTING MOUNTAIN AIR

WHO: STEPHEN DOBIE, DEPUTY EDITOR TG.COM

When the second-gen Mini GP launched in Portugal, I had three blissful days driving it back to the UK for a cover shoot with its hot hatch rivals. Diverting from the motorway for a twisty detour over the Pyrenees wasn’t my wisest move given it was January, there was a light covering of snow and the car had bespoke, lightly treaded Kumho tyres, but at least it kept me alert with so many miles to cover...

FLYING MACHINE

WHO: PETER RAWLINS, SUB-EDITOR

When I was younger, we used to visit my cousins who lived in Frinton-on-Sea every summer. I loved it for three reasons: the beach, their chocolate Labrador, and my auntie’s red classic Mini, complete with white racing stripes. Every day, when returning from the beach, we would go over a steep railway bridge we’d attack with ever-increasing speed, hoping we would one day lift off. “Faster, faster,” my brothers and I would say, and my auntie would oblige. Looking back, I’m not sure the dog enjoyed the air time as much as I did.

CRASH COURSE

WHO: OLLIE M, MOTORING EDITOR The first Mini Cooper S, the supercharged one. We were in Wales on a group test, I got a corner wrong: ran wide, back wheels hit the dirt, the thing pivoted 180 degrees and I sailed off the road backwards at considerable velocity. Which, since the road was raised, made me airborne. I landed in a bog. I called the local garage. “Where are you?” I told them. “Ah, we pull someone out of there every week.” This didn’t make me feel any better. But when they did, the spongy impact meant the only damage was a bent exhaust pipe. Then I felt better.

UNDERDOG DONE GOOD

WHO: TOM HARRISON, STAFF WRITER

I remember driving through Germany to Performance Car of the Year, 2015. The Mini JCW was the slowest car in our convoy, but somehow Ollie M kept pace with Rowan in the Range Rover SVR, me in the BMW i8 and Ollie K in the Megane Trophy R. Despite repeated sprints (where legal) to well beyond the Mini’s top speed. Witchcraft.

LESSON LEARNT

WHO: SAM BURNETT, SUB-EDITOR

I learned to drive in a Mini while I was still at university. My instructor was a lovely man, an ex-police driver, and he had a magnificent moustache. I passed my test the first time of trying (we were both somewhat surprised) and he took me out onto the quiet, winding roads of North Wales for a bit of extra posttest tuition. “You’re going to drive like an idiot now you’ve passed,” he said to me in a kindly voice. “I may as well teach you to do it properly.”