Small engine suits big Mini
six-speed automatic compared with the eight-ratio transmission of the 2.0-litre. Not a deal-breaker, although the more closely stacked ratios would prevent some of the around-town hesitation you get from the Cooper’s shifter as it struggles to meet rapidly changing driver demands in heavy traffic.
At speed, it’s not an issue: the six-speed steps between gears in satisfyingly quick and smooth fashion.
The Countryman has also retained a perky demeanour on the road. The steering is quick, the chassis surprisingly nimble. It still feels much more like a Mini than a generic baby-suv, in other words.
You get a Sport mode (thankfully it doesn’t produce a ‘‘go-kart’’ graphic on the information display like it does in Mini hatchbacks) which adds more weight to the steering and noticeably more snappy gearshifts. There’s an Eco setting too.
But the thing about the Countryman is that it’s every bit as practical as a generic babysuv. Arguably more so. The new model has a truly useful 450 litres of boot space and the rear seat picks up a trick or two from BMW’S SUVS and Touring wagons by having a 40/20/40 split, meaning you can balance passenger and cargo space in a huge variety of configurations.
Not so sure about the continued reliance on all those idiosyncratic Mini interior details, though.
I don’t mind at all that this model has grown up so much, but it might have been nice to lose some of the blingy trim and even that massive circular central instrument panel.
It was fine when it housed a speedometer (like it did in the classic Mini), but circa-2017 it’s reduced to being a round housing for mostly rectangular screens and buttons.
Of course, the other thing about BMW’S Mini is that it pioneered the concept of a truly premium small car.
The new Countryman continues that tradition by being really rather expensive. The price for this entry-level model is $44,500, and of course that’s supposed to be just the start.
Personalisation is a big thing (excuse the pun) for Mini. As I write this I’m looking at the optional-equipment list for the Countryman and it’s literally five A4 pages of tiny type.
Some items are small and inexpensive, others large and very costly. Cumulatively, they’re all designed to perform a neat trick: distract you with shiny things while a Mini dealer empties your bank account.
Our test vehicle is actually quite restrained, but it still has black bonnet stripes (a snip at $250), 18-inch alloy wheels ($1500), LED foglights ($500), keyless access ($650), a high-end sat-nav system with a touch-screen, just like a BMW 7-series ($2700) and a tiny work of genius, a padded picnic bench that folds out of the under-boot space so you can sit on the rear bumper ($250).
Suddenly, your entry-level Countryman has cost more than $50k. Mini buyers, are you worried? Thought not.