Mini GP driven
Oxford’s new two-seat weapon versus our turbocharged Georg Kacher
There are only a handful of cars able to tell between heads and tails as they run over a coin. The Mini GP does not only happily oblige, it can tell you the year it was minted, too. Firm springs and dampers are, of course, no guarantee of fun. But they make perfect sense on the Mini GP, a car that treads a fine line between pleasure and pain. Just leaf through the bible of automotive no-nos and the classic vices are all here in abundance: torque steer, waywardness at any speed, marginal ride comfort… But you know what? It’s impossible not get a kick out of this doped super-Mini.
A rather rough daily driver, the £33,895 limited-edition two-seater nails the bullseye if what you want is a hot hatch that can cope with the high street but will truly come alive on a trackday. Mini is building 3000 GPs, of which 575 are reserved for the UK.
It’s a serious bit of kit, making more than twice the power of the base Mini, with the chassis and aero upgrades to match. In fact the body, chassis and driveline had to be practically reinvented. For a start, there are now four separate cooling circuits protecting the health of the engine, crankcase and transmission. A high-performance fan and a new coolant storage and distribution system assist in coping with the high loads and critical temperatures this Mini’s likely to endure/enjoy.
The turbocharged 2.0-litre petrol four is essentially the same as the unit in the BMW M135i. Special engine upgrades include a new turbo, bespoke intake and exhaust system, and a larger sump.
Torsional stiffness isn’t normally an issue for a run-of-the-mill threedoor hatch. Add 74bhp to the already brawny 228bhp JCW, however, and you are in a different dynamic ballpark altogether. In the GP there are multiple reinforcements. The engine and transmission mounts are beefed up, rubber bushes either stiffened or replaced by metal ball joints, and a rear subframe and a front strut brace added. Ride is lowered by 10mm, the tracks widened, the steering re-programmed, camber increased all round, and the springs, dampers and anti-roll bars recalibrated.
The GP is delivered highly strung and ready to shock. This car is a livewire that needs to be earthed; grabbed with both hands, strong-armed by broad shoulders, controlled by a fearless and focused mind. Fitted with eye-catching wheelarch flares made from recycled matte black carbonfibre shavings found in BMW’s i3 and i8 waste bin, forged four-spoke lightweight rims, and a rear wing inspired by the boxy turbojet housings of the supersonic Concorde, it’s all muscle and zero body fat.
Our test car, which has lapped the Nürburgring in under eight minutes, does without no-cost options such as air-con, sat-nav, heated seats, alarm and DAB radio. It’s also wearing Hankook Ventus TD semi-slicks, which would make perfect sense were we on a track. On the road they sometimes put us in the twilight zone between trick and treat.
The B15n between Landshut and Regensburg is a new dual carriageway with no speed limit. Unlike many other roads with autobahn status, it’s a glorious series of curves snaking through rolling hills. We’re not expecting the Mini GP to hit its unrestricted top speed of 164mph, but we aim ⊲
EVER WONDERED WHAT INTERMITTENT UNDERSTEER FEELS LIKE AT 150MPH?
YOU’LL WISH FOR A BLEED VALVE TO DISPOSE OF THE ADRENALINE FLOOD
to see what it can offer over the regular JCW. We patiently wait in a layby for a suitable gap. Then it’s go-go-go! Full-throttle take-off is a flashback to the early ’80s – think VW Golf GTI Mk1, think Ford Fiesta XR2. Although early hot hatches were not exactly torque monsters, the arm-wrestling antics triggered by the absence of power steering and traction control are suddenly back in the Mini GP. Unchain the 299lb ft of torque and the front wheels immediately start scrabbling for traction, grip, stability and, eventually, orientation. The standard mechanical diff lock does what it can to keep the car in a reasonably straight line, but on uneven turf the maximum locking ratio of 31 per cent yields only a mild low-gear taming effect.
The eight-speed twin-clutch auto is a swift and ecient shifter. Even though a manual gearbox would be a more emotional alternative, right now Mini doesn’t have one strong enough to cope with the ballsy twist of the turbocharged 2.0-litre four. With the throttle stapled to the floor, first, second and third come and go in seconds as the car passes the 62mph mark after only 5.2 seconds. The urge does not ease much in fourth and fifth, while sixth and seventh are slightly longer-legged to give the engine a brief breather before top gear – a proper driving gear, not a CO2 disciple – takes over at 6250rpm. Since the torque curve plateaus from 1750 to 4500rpm, high revs are only of the essence when you’re chasing top speed which is, on this particular late-spring Tuesday afternoon, an indicated 175mph. So much for self-restraint in times of climate emergency...
According to its maker, the third-generation GP averages 38.7mpg. During our test, consumption worked out at 18.5mpg. Which would explain why the tiny 40-litre tank needed refilling after only 150 miles.
This sort of driving is what the GP is built for. Take the near-perfect driving position, which makes you instantly feel in command. Relish the excellent seats, the generous adjustment range, the ideal distance to the pedals, the splendid visibility, the huge instruments, the unambiguous primary ergonomics. In contrast, the trademark central round display is primarily there for decoration.
The transmission lever squats in a pod of its own and is dead simple to operate; just notch it to the side to find Sport and Manual modes, which can’t wait to take the game to the next level, or you can use the neat alloy shift paddles brought into being by a 3D printer.
The B15n lets us experience the Mini GP right along the ragged edge: working that hyper-fast steering hard to follow the chosen line, briefly losing it, having to lift off momentarily before starting anew, eventually relocating that edge, always battling minor but persistent deflections. Ever wondered what intermittent understeer feels like at 150mph? It’s not nearly as scary as a high-speed lift-off tail wriggle, but when it occurs you’ll still wish for a bleed valve with which to dispose of the sudden adrenaline flood.
In hard cornering there’s virtually no roll, and the rack-and-pinion steering does what it can to keep you on course, the level of grip and directional stability varying with every imperfection of the road surface. While backing off is always an option, adding the mildest dab of lock rarely helps ⊲
– but it can alter the trajectory big-time, with the stability control applauding from the grandstands. Whoever said that performance is nothing without control, and control is nothing without compliance, was right.
This all-or-nothing mentality appears less critical on slower roads, but it still likes to turn a roundabout into a drift contest. The Mini is unable to masquerade as neutral, benign and balanced. A firm stab at the accelerator is all it takes to make the rear axle act cocky at the limit, to amplify the effect of casual steering and throttle inputs. Just as you think you are on top of it all the front tyres flare up, increasing tenfold the odds of sudden understeer chased by oversteer.
So, do the extensive chassis upgrades actually work? Depends how you define enhancement. If the goal was to further sharpen an already trenchant razor blade so that it can even cut thin air into fine slices, we’d call it mission accomplished. This cat is on the prowl at all times, ever eager to chase and conquer its prey, be it a dizzying high-speed left-hander or a series of narrow third-gear twisties.
The GP evolves the JCW from backroad bandit to more of a track tool. On the road, the test car’s semi-slicks take a while to reach their proper working temperature. The warming-up process is tricky. Whereas the fronts only take a dozen cones to generate that honey-like stickiness, the rears are much more reluctant to build up heat. The absence of the rear seat assembly makes the GP more nose-heavy than other front-drive Minis.
After three solid hours of hard driving, gentlemanly manners are still conspicuous by their absence. With the stability control in the GP position, there is almost always enough second- and third-gear wheelslip available for a sweeping mid-corner tyre signature. Switching it off altogether produces even more front-end smoke, along with occasional overrun rear-end fire. As is so often the case, wildly overdriving the car draws an edgy, slower line which disrupts your flow.
Ride comfort means nothing to this sinewy animal, which instinctively hits back at every pothole, kicks every ridge, snaps at every expansion joint, counts the holes of every drain cover and attempts to fray every hard shoulder it can hook up to. The only mental drive mode it knows is total attack. It fuses manoeuvrability and twitchiness to an eerie cannonball effect which leaves plenty of room for driver satisfaction and no room at all for driver error. It’s a small car, but exploring the GP’s many talents and vices calls for a big portion of ability and respect.
So why not compromise and check out rivals like Toyota’s 257bhp allwheel-drive GR Yaris, the 296bhp Renault Megane RS 300 Trophy or the 316bhp Honda Civic Type R (more power, less money)? Because, starting with the number of doors, they don’t really compare. They may match the Mini against the stopwatch, but from behind the wheel, only the car that proudly bears John Cooper’s name is pure high-dose venom. It must be tamed, not teased. Or it will sting.
RIDE COMFORT IS NOTHING TO THIS SINEWY ANIMAL, WHICH COUNTS THE HOLES OF EVERY DRAIN COVER