Maxed-out Mini proves practical
Countryman is the Mini for every-person thanks to its enlarged dimensions. But does it retain the personality that defines the brand? Paul Owen investigates.
From where I’m sitting, the British car industry will retain just the one highvolume factory after we move to a post-Brexit world.
You’ll find it in Oxford, where a BMW-owned subsidiary churns out some of the perkiest frontdrive cars in the world, fed by a steady stream of powertrain components from another BMWowned facility located in Hams Hall, Warwickshire. As Honda, Peugeot, and Nissan close down their British car production facilities due to the new trade barriers that will affect the competitiveness of the cars postBrexit, this mainstream-oriented factory is likely to remain because ‘‘Britishness’’ is a core value of the cars that are made there. That’s because they bear a brand that instantly evokes memories of the British miniature car that revolutionised the automotive world when it first appeared at the start of the swinging-1960s.
Now BMW’s first interpretation of a Mini was never going to match the cheapness of the original car as evidenced by its silly wire door handles, elasto-spastic suspension, exposed door hinges, and sliding windows. The car that Sir Alec Issigonis built wasn’t meant to compete with other cars, it was more a viable and affordable fourwheeled option built to entice families out their 1950s mindset and trade in their motorcycles-with-sidecars. And BMW had essentially stopped building such cheap n’ cheerful products when it stopped making the Isetta bubblecar.
So when the first Bavarian-designed Mini appeared back in 2001, it was always going to be a premium product from the get-go. I voiced my concerns about the lack of minimalism displayed by that initial well-made, well crashtested, well-equipped three-door hatch some 14 years ago. I’ve moved on, and so has BMW. In the case of the car-maker to even bigger things, like this Cooper S Countryman.
Had BMW retained the Austin or Morris names instead of making Mini a brand all on its own, the latest Countryman could have been called a Maxi, and it would have been a more accurate description.
For it’s quite a big wagon for something purporting to be a compact crossover vehicle. With an extra 200mm added to the wheelbase of the Countryman for 2017, it now makes some of the most capacious cars in the compact crossover segment look cramped. For example, it now offers more rear seat legroom than a Mazda CX-5, and folding the rear benches of both down will allow the Countryman to display a further 200 extra litres of luggage space. With said bench up in the Mini, there’s a handy 450 litres of room in which to stack the accumulated booty of any wine region tour.
The extra length added to the Countryman also increases its visual appeal. It appears more muscular and mature, more a product of this century instead of the last one. Inside, the usual Mini excesses are evident, the dominant central speedo of past dashboards now turned into a circular screen for the reversing camera and other intel. It makes the cabin look like the set of a spaceship interior from the Flash Gordon era of Saturday Matinee cinema.
There are other frivolous touches like the a red starter switch that will encourage Trumpian fantasies of arming a nuclear missile, and a row of plated toggle switches where most cars would have simpler rotary knobs. But then, the CS Countryman lists for $52,900, and that’s before you start ticking desirable options like the Chili pack (18in alloys, Harman Kardon audio, LED lights, leather trim and extra driver assists for $5000) and all-wheel-drive ($3000). When you’re paying more than $60k for a compact, you deserve to receive further excess in exchange.
All this extra body sheet metal and stuff blows the mass of the Cooper S Countryman to more than 1.5 tonnes. That’s what a rear-drive, six-cylinder Aussie large sedan used to weigh at the turn of century. A Peugeot 308 wagon weighs an incredible 250kg less yet offers a cabin that’s just as spacious. This mass/size conundrum presents Mini with a challenge to ensure that the Countryman can offer the perky go-kart-like dynamic that is enshrined in the brand.
Fortunately, it’s a challenge wellmet, albeit at the expense of a firm ride when the electronic dampers are set in their sportiest mode. This wakes up the responses of the 141kW/280Nm 2.0 turbo-petrol engine and the eight-speed automatic that attends it, but expect to be jarred as a result. I found it preferable to drive the Countryman in the Mid driving mode for the extra bump compliance, with just the powertrain set to Sport. It still returned decent fuel use figures in this configuration, with an average measure of 8.6 litres exchanged for every 100km travelled.
What’s more, it proved a delightful drive, and the more I drove it, the more my residual cynicism of the design drained away. This is one British-made, mass-market car that’s likely to continue after Brexit, and it has all the attributes required to be a worthy showcase for a once vibrant and proud industry.