Pretentious? Moi? Not likely. You won’t find me chatting away in that dodgy Derek Trotter pseudo French lingo.
Nor will you find me telling you what I read in one motoring magazine, which was assuring its readers that the new Mini Clubman looked very good with its vertically split tailgate. You what? They’re doors, like you get on any old van!
That’s the trouble with the new Mini. It’s so big on style that it makes people come over all peculiar. Like agreeing with BMW, the Mini’s maker, that it has what they like to call a “club” door on one side. We used to call it a suicide door – and some of us still do.
Back when I was a young motoring writer I heard an anecdotal tale from a mechanic who had managed to buy a prototype from the factory about a car that came down the production line at British Leyland with a three door hatchback body on one side and a five door on the other. We thought it hilarious. And now good old BMW makes it come true years after ditching that same company some Germans derided as “the English patient”.
Mind you, far from being an accident, the Germans have done it on purpose. And it’s an idea that works as long as you are not in England, where the car is made, or any other market where the cars are right hand drive. Perhaps I’m being a bit hard by suggesting it’s totally UK useless – on those rare occasions where you pull up on the right in a one way street the extra rear hinged door makes perfect sense.
Of course, they’ve also got the name wrong. They call this new, elongated version of their stylised Mini the Clubman, the name added to second generation estate versions from 1969, when they should have called it the Traveller or even the Countryman, as the original Mini estates were known.
The official line is that BMW could not secure the Traveller name, that its ownership was uncertain. A fellow cynical hack suggested it had more to do with Stonehenge, the Battle of the Beanfield (a legend in my adopted part of Hampshire), old buses, the great unwashed, and possibly illegal substances tainting the name. Perish the thought. Countryman, of course, would be no good on a car bought mainly by urban dwellers unless it came with complimentary green wellies.
Mind you, after all this I have to say the new Mini Clubman does make some sense. It’s bigger than the regular Mini so offers more space. There’s a bigger boot, too, although it’s best if you judge it by eye rather than measure it as the results with a tape will not be that impressive. Man inches, I think women call them.
The ordinary hatchback Mini from BMW has not found any shortage of takers but since it was given a massive makeover last year and then the Clubman added, too, sales have taken off once more. It seems we can’t get enough of them despite their premium prices and lengthy options list and people are clamouring for them all over the world.
This has to be good news for the workers at Plant Oxford, what we used to know as Cowley in the days of strikes and stupendously appalling cars. How fortuitous for the workers that BMW switched Mini production there and, at great expense, dumped the now-dead Rover 75 on now-dead Longbridge.
We’ve just been running round in the Clubman Cooper, a name combination that never existed in genuine Mini days. It was an enjoyable experience, if only because the ride feels more mature and less jarring than on the normal Mini. And for those who have driven the Issigonis Mini but not the BMW creation, it really does feel right from behind the wheel with the dominant central speedo, curved, narrow windscreen, hump of bonnet, and bulging wings sticking up.
The car felt peppy enough and was managing 38 mpg on average, which is pretty good and better than any original Mini achieved. I always found them too thirsty. But the fuel light was still on after 250 miles from full, which is not good. That said, few other cars will grab the looks that this does and you will become an instant source of curiosity if you buy one. Unlike Del Trotter, who was just a curiosity! Bonjour!
Maurice Hardy
One of the advantages families will find with the Mini Clubman is that it’s the first model in the BMW range to come with five seats although, to be fair, getting three large adults installed across the back would be the equivalent to walking on water or similar miracles.
Those rear doors are minute, too, so there isn’t a vast opening for loading through. This is not the car for trips to IKEA or other DIY outlets any more than the standard Mini hatch.
Our test car came with the optional Pepper pack that adds £1,100 to the price and brings with it a level boot floor which makes the load bay even narrower. Without it, there is the same sort of deep well that was found on the Metro. The rear seat backrests flop forward but to release them you have to reach into the car through the rear doors as the release catches are set in the middle of the seat backs, where they cannot be reached from the front.
The club door arrangement is really nonsensical and the car looks far better from the left, without it, than it does from the right. It tends to get in the way as the driver’s seatbelt is mounted on it and you can get tangled up. Neither front seat belt is adjustable for height, either.
Despite this, I found the Clubman an attractive car to drive even if it would be impractical to own. It adds £1,200 to the price of the standard hatchback, which is a bit steep compared with other makes, but BMW knows it can get away with it. Try it and you’ll be convinced it’s the better Mini.
Annette Hardy
Car: Mini Cooper Clubman
Does it fit your ego?...
0-62 mph: 9.8 secs
Top speed: 125 mph
Bhp: 120 @ 6000 rpm
Torque: 118 lb ft @ 4250 rpm
...and your wallet?...
Price: £14,235
Urban: 39.8 mpg
Extra urban: 62.8 mpg
Combined: 51.4 mpg
CO2 emissions: 132 g/km
Insurance Group: 8
Best bits: more practical than standard Mini; it will make you the centre of attention; superior ride.