A big-time party for the small classic
International Mini Meet draws a crowd in celebration of the box on 10-inch wheels
ZARASAI, LITHUANIA— The three Linting brothers from Holland busy themselves erecting their club banner, MiniProjects NL, as their wives wrestle with tents and 2-year old Jano runs like a newborn foal around a trio of road-weary classic Minis.
After a 1,900-km journey, this jovial clutch of Dutch Mini enthusiasts have made it to a very big party for a very small car — the annual International Mini Meet, held this year in the beautiful northeastern lake district of Lithuania.
By Minis, we’re talking the original Austin/Morris variety that was designed by genius engineer Sir Alec Issigonis and produced from 1959 to 2000.
The scene is underscored by the earnest growl of BMC A Series engines as Mini owners from all over Europe congregate on these hilly festival grounds. With “only” about 500 cars here, it’s a fairly modest turnout by IMM standards (there were 4,000 classic Minis at last year’s event in England) but, oh yes, the party atmosphere is brewing big-time this afternoon.
It’s all honks and friendly waves as fascinating specimens of this iconic box on 10-inch wheels, driven by equally fascinating specimens of humans, putter about. Some members of the Flying Finns Mini Club are already drunk, butt-naked and jumping off the dock.
It was not an easy trip here for the Lindings. Their 1988 Mini 1000 cabrio blew a head gasket, which they had to replace by the side of the road. Their other Minis are both modified ’77s, with 1275cc engine transplants.
The brothers got hooked on Minis when their father bought them one as a hobby project. Erno Linting chuckles: “We wanted to restore it, but ending up breaking it. So we bought lots more Minis. Now we have too many projects and not enough time.”
Just down the way, I come across three jovial young Brits from the Torbay Mini Club who are in the middle of a 5,600-km road trip. They are driving a modified ’82 and a nutty bright orange chopped ’72 Clubman Estate sporting a twin-cam Rover engine up front.
What you won’t see at this event are babied trailer queens. The cars are loved, used and many are modified in some way. There are some truly outrageous creations like a jacked-up 4x4, a Mini stretch limo and a rat-rod cum art-car New Mini from Poland with a fully rusted patina, ill-fitting body bits, a mop for a rear wiper and a picket fence filling a big hole in the door panel. It’s pulling a matching trailer.
Then there are the charming old beaters that despite apparent fragility somehow made it to this remote corner of Europe. One faded Mk 1 850 had an equally faded sticker in the window: “You never forget your first Mini.”
True enough. Confession: I’m not an impartial observer here. I’m one of these Mini nuts. OK, maybe not strip-down-and-jump-in-the-lake-with-a-Viking-helmet-on nuts, but if I had driven all this way in a 10-foot box, even that is highly possible.
I caught the Mini bug in Nova Scotia as a young lad, and my dear old Dad bought me a ’68 Mini1000 when I was 15. So I worked on it in the garage and drove it up and down our long driveway ’til the blessed day I got my license.
Then freedom. I’ll never forget that feeling of flying along the back roads of Nova Scotia at the wheel of my blue Mini — which, after a few engine mods, was making upwards of 40 hp. I learned to swear under the hood of that car, and learned what it was like to be part of a special fraternity. We Mini drivers would wave and flash our lights as we passed each other.
Forty years later, I find my self once again driving a classic Mini over sim- ilar roads, but this time in far away Lithuania. BMW brought two 1997 Minis for us to drive while attending the IMM, so it wasn’t long before I snagged a key and headed out into the rolling countryside.
Being the final series of production, this green ’97 is a far cry from my ’68 that had sliding side windows, SU carbs and a cord for the inside door release. The “modern” classic Mini sports front disc brakes, an airbag, catalytic converter and a fuel injected 1275 cc A Series engine worth 63 hp. Sure, that doesn’t sound like much, but with only 770 kg to haul around, this little mill does just fine.
After a couple of bends it’s all coming back — the whine of the gear box, the growl of the engine, the impos- sibly short clutch take up, the long shifter throws and the steering.
Oh, the steering. So pure, so direct. My little cube with a wheel at each corner follows every input with an immediacy no modern car can touch.
Sure, the ride is choppy and the brakes are a little weak, but at 80 km/h I feel like I’m doing double that. Up ahead I see another old Mini heading my way. We wave, flash our headlights and I’m 16 again. Peter Bleakney is a regular contributor to Toronto Star Wheels. Travel was provided by the manufacturer. For more Toronto Star automotive coverage, go to thestar.com/autos. To reach Wheels Editor Norris McDonald: nmcdonald@thestar.ca