Arguably the most desirable Mini of all time, the Cooper S Convertible combines supercharged urge with al-fresco elegance.

When you think of Minis, whose name springs to mind? Depending on your age and inclinations, it might be Paddy Hopkirk or Twiggy, or it might be Ringo Starr. For sure it won't be Sebastien Loeb or Bono. The latter names belong to a modern age and a different legend: gone are the Swinging Sixties, we now celebrate the Roaring Noughties – a generation to whom the original Mini is but a distant image, a parent thing maybe, or something that looks good on a poster.

Now it's the MINI, much more of an upper-case sort of car, in which there is no room for idiosyncrasy, no character-building traits such as holding it in third gear with your knee, no tugging on a length of string to open the door, no incessant grind from the final drive. But much as we loved those things, and recognised that they uniquely defined the Mini experience, the one thing that so many young MG-reared owners wanted but couldn't get – except as a rare and expensive after-market conversion – was a soft-top.

Despite our having some of the worst weather in western Europe, we love the idea of al fresco motoring, and never more so than now. Last year, around 4 per cent of all new cars sold in Britain were convertibles, and arguably the most iconic of those – at least in the supermini category – was, or rather, is, the MINI Cooper S Convertible.

It is the flagship MINI, and with a soft top, the desirability factor shoots through the roof, or not, as the case may be.

Combining an on-the-fly sunshine roof with a fully opening hood, the MINI convertible – of any strain – is classically designed. The top folds neatly away on a Z-frame (once called a pram hood) to sit snugly behind the rear seats. The whole operation takes only 15 seconds and requires no more effort than is needed to push a button. Once folded, the hood looks neat and tidy and there is no need for a fiddly tonneau cover, or concomitant expletives.

I tested the S Convertible during very changeable weather and the roof was up and down more often than an NCP barrier. And I don't see why not: it's hardly difficult. And, of course, there's always the half-mast position – at up to 75 mph, the roof can be opened by as much as 40 centimetres, whereupon a safety interlock prevents its sliding back any further. And unlike a conventional sunroof, the aperture stretches the whole width of the car and to whatever depth has been chosen – just a centimetre or two is possible, if all you want is a draught.

And blowing in the wind is a Cooper S strong point. A Roots-type supercharger has been attached via an intercooler to the regular 1600, 4-pot Pentagon engine and the output is more or less doubled - from a modest 65 kw of the Mini One to a far more respectable 125 kw.

More importantly, the torque output also gets a hefty boost, rising from 140 to 220 Nm at 4000 rpm, with notable benefits to acceleration: zero to 62 mph takes 7.4 seconds, but, more significantly, the 4th-gear 50-75 mph time shrinks to just 6.6 seconds, which is just what you need to boost your confidence; and the accompanying whistle from the blower is pure Brooklands and a real ego booster, if you are in need of such things.

Obviously I am, since I spent most of my time blasting about in the 50-70 mph envelope just to suck in the sound signature and to enjoy what the Cooper S does best: taking on the succession of tight bends that the Highways Agency is pleased to call arterial roads. Pick any suitable stretch, drop a cog and find out why MINIs were invented. Not Minis, although they were good, but MINIs, the upper-case German model that so surely lays down its own tram-line that it quickly recovers before anyone behind can learn the trick of cornering at Mach 1. Indeed, if I were asked to sum up the MINI in one word, that word would be grip.

On any other car, the degree of traction attained by the MINI would require four-wheel drive; as it is, it manages on just two of its 16-inch alloys. (The width of which is quoted as 6.5J – how very Sixties.) Yet with only half the stiction of, say, the Golf 4Motion, the MINI (Cooper S, et al) nonetheless appears – although that's without a stopwatch - quicker through the bends. One thing is certain: the absence of a fixed roof appears to have little effect on the car's tractability, which is hardly surprising considering that the Convertible is a long way removed from a basic cut 'n' canvas.

Practically every body panel is in some way reinforced; in addition the car is liberally sprinkled with torsion bars, those clever, Meccano-like struts that add starch where otherwise there would be space, and help keep the whole bodyshell taut and ship-shape.

But it's not just about handling and roadholding: open-topped cars are particularly vulnerable in a shunt; especially in the dreaded roll-over, and here the MINI Convertible offers as much security as you could hope for in a car with the roof missing. The A-Pillars and top window frame are heavily reinforced to absorb one-and-a-half times the car's mass, and behind the rear seats there are sculptured roll-over bars that are constantly on duty to safeguard against a worst-case incident.

You might imagine that much of the £17,935 price tag is taken up with these additional passive safety features, but nothing is skimped to make room for the extra hardware. For example, Automatic Stability Control and Traction (ASC+T) is standard, along with Cornering Brake Control, electronic brake distribution, run-flat tyres, park-distance control and discs all round – vented at the front.

The S in Cooper S Convertible signifies not only the supercharger – it also stands for sports: sports as in sports seats, sports as in sports suspension, and sports as in sports cars should all be like this. Fast, tractable, versatile, the Cooper S Convertible has it all – along with four proper seats (which is not the same thing as legroom) and all the retro styling cues that Construction and Uses regs still permit.

For example, minor controls replicate the toggle switches that once adorned any self-respecting Mini rally car, and which particularly were associated with Paddy Hopkirk, who, I believe, earned a bob or two marketing look-alike accessories. And, of course, there is that centrally mounted speedo, which, if anything, is larger than the original from which it takes its inspiration.

Overall, I would say that BMW has gone to extraordinary lengths to retain the spirit and ethos of the original car without compromising function and form, and without sacrificing any of the advanced engineering standards that distinguish old from new.

The same must be said of the exterior treatment. BMW has managed both to convincingly define the origins of the car, and, with nothing much to go on, to incorporate a folding roof as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

In other respects, the Cooper S (in either guise) is a long way removed from the original. In place of the naturally gasping 1295 cc A-Class engine, scavenged by John Cooper from the BMC parts bin, is a Chrysler-sourced 'Pentagon' unit that first did duty in the Neon. And in place of a modest 0-60 mph time of just 10.6 seconds and a flat-out figure of 98 mph (fast for the Sixties) is a 0-62 time of 7.4 seconds (about 7.0 seconds to 60 mph), and a top speed of 134 mph.

In conjunction with a short-throw, six-speed Getrag manual 'box, the blown engine manages on the combined cycle to extract 32.1 miles from every gallon, and almost 40 mpg on the extra-urban cycle. But the Cooper S Convertible is one of those cars for which the rationale of reasonable fuel consumption holds little appeal.

In truth, MINI cognoscenti understand that Cooper S ownership is to be coveted not calculated, and that cost is not to be confused with investment. Whatever the fuel consumption, whatever the insurance premium, whatever the residuals, a Cooper S Convertible pays out an emotional dividend that can be measured in coins of the realm. It's a passion thing. The firm but compliant ride, the astounding road-holding, the seductive sound signature, the sheer push-button al fresconess of the instant-sunshine hood: all these things and more identify the Cooper S Convertible in a class of one.

But we cannot dismiss all the statistics as secondary to the driving experience: there is still the little (or not so little) matter of the boot. With the roof open, the boot space is admittedly quite modest; with the roof closed a further 45 litres becomes available. Ringo Starr famously had his Mini converted to accommodate his drum kit; all you will need to do is fold down the rear seats to increase the space to a useful 605 litres. And as for the rear leg room – well you'd be OK if Twiggy blagged a lift.

Source
By Graham Whyte
newcarnet.co.uk

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