Mini Cooper D All4 Countryman
Variety may well be the spice of life but when faced with MINI’S bewildering array of variants it just leaves you hot and bothered, finds Charlie Flindt
It’s hard work keeping up with MINI’S output. New models and variants appear almost weekly and revisiting its range after a break of a few months can be bewildering. What will the latest off-the-wall offering be? Hatch, coupe, cabrio, estate? three-door, five-door (two of them stable), five-and-a-half door?
the new (take a deep breath at this point) MINI Cooper D All4 Countryman (and if that doesn’t win a line in MINI Nomenclature Bingo, nothing will) is actually rather conventional: it’s a five-door estate, four-wheel drive and slightly souped up. It’s MINI’S biggest offering yet but is still recognisable instantly as a MINI, even to youngsters whose only memory of the original Mini (sic) is via a remastered Michael Caine on Film4.
I confess that after a few days, many aspects of the Countryman were driving me up the wall. I found the cabin roomy but the pedals were offset to the offside, the rear-view mirror was too small, the interior door handles were daft (there are window switches where you instinctively put two fingers to lever the handle) and I needed my very best reading glasses (which normally never leave the house) to work out which button did what.
Room in the back is good but the boot, despite the overall bulk of the Countryman, could only just take a 28in Browning B26 skeet laid diagonally. the gearbox is a disaster zone – separating first from reverse was a nightmare. I know that the MINI thrives on nostalgia but – trust me on this, BMW – the Austin Maxi’s gear change is not remembered fondly and needs no recreation.
On the move, it feels unsettled and hard at moderate speeds but slightly happier at higher speed, when the four-wheel drive starts to feel as though it’s helping. And, as befits something with “Cooper” nestled among the multi-barrelled name, it goes very well when it has the chance, although the fuel consumption suffered horribly at under 40mpg.
sometimes the MINI’S astonishing success is bewildering. the brand makes regular plunges towards the bottom of the reliability charts in a way that must infuriate its parent company – which lurks effortlessly near the top. the cars themselves are quirky to the point of irritation and are beginning to suffer from pointless gadget overload that makes you yearn for a little bit of simplicity.
But after a couple more days, the MINI grew on me and the only explanation for this is nostalgia. the dark-green Countryman was dropped off onto the exact same piece of yard where I drove for the very first time – in a green, L-reg Mini. the clever marketing and shameless repackaging of what is now a very old concept still works. I’m not Charlie Flindt, I’m Charlie Croker. I’m not on the A272, I’m in an Italian sewer (some might say the two are indistinguishable). that’s not a B26 skeet in the boot – it’s gold bars (ditto). Altogether now: “this is the selfpreservation society…”
After a couple more days, the MINI grew on me – the only explanation is nostalgia