Mini Cooper Jhon Cooper Works by Car and Driver
Our Mini John Cooper Works convertible is being subjected to the most hellacious place on earth for a car: Ann Arbor in the winter. Ann Arbor being the liberal community that it is (not that there’s anything wrong with that), taxes are invested in preserving green space and $750,000 hybrid buses powered by peace and love. The city does not repave the roads. Ever. Why is this germane to our Mini? It likes smooth pavement. On our war-torn thoroughfares, the body flexes, shakes, bangs, quivers, rattles, and shimmies. The nastiest series of potholes in town are near Michigan Stadium, which happens to be right around the corner from our office. Driving over that stretch has us consistently thinking that one of the front wheels has gone through the hood—it's that violent. We're holding out hope that road-patching crews will make things tolerable in the spring. Or that maybe with the top down, we just won't notice.
The good news is that even though the wheels feel like they should be square by now, both the 18-inch accessory wheels we used in the fall and the stock 17-inch wheels we are using in the winter are bend-free. Still, the front tires died, and since the roads didn’t do it, we’ll blame the exhaust system. Say what, you ask? Allow us to explain: Because the Mini's snarling, popping exhaust note is so fantastic, we’ve been compelled—nay, forced—to run full throttle to redline every time we leave a light, stop sign, or corner, so the tread on the front rubber was ground off by 8600 miles. Normal humans might get more life out of the ultra-soft 205/40 Bridgestone Potenza RE050A run-flats that came on the car, but we doubt many normal humans buy a John Cooper Works.
Other than the crummy ride quality, however, our droptop Mini has been quite livable in the winter. The seats are supportive over long hauls. The Alcantara steering wheel, which is a dealer accessory, is much easier on cold hands than icy leather, and these have to be the quickest, hottest seat heaters this side of an electric chair. The backlight is made of glass and has a defroster, so it’s far more agreeable than the plastic ones that once were common in convertibles (although we wish there were such a thing as a convertible-compatible rear wiper, since the rear window’s proximity to the bumper means it's often filthy). A set of Bridgestone Blizzak LM60 winter tires makes the Mini more capable in snow than you'd expect of such a light car, too, so the JCW has had no issues getting through the worst Mother Nature has thrown at us.
As to opinions among the staff, our Mini has thus far been polarizing. Some editors detest it, harping on that flexy body, the torque steer, the lack of a real rear seat or trunk, the high price. The rest love it for the rockin’ body kit, the crackle of the exhaust, the diminutive size, and—most important—the balls-out rawness of it all. We all agree, however, that we'll love it more when the weather gets sunnier and we can drop the top again.
If 2009 has been the year of shrinking car sales, 2010 is shaping up to be the year of shrinking cars. Is it looming fuel-economy standards, ever-tightening credit, or a cultural shift away from conspicuous consumption? Maybe it's Mini. BMW's British division proved people will pay real money for small cars, and companies that previously claimed small cars had to be cheap are changing tack. If Ford plans to bring us a nicer, costlier Focus—and it does—what's Mini to do? It will go even further upmarket, of course.
Which brings us to the Mini John Cooper Works convertible. With a $34,950 base price, it's the most expensive Mini of the nine models on offer in the U.S. and easily the most expensive tiny car on sale in the States. Could we fall in love with a sub-subcompact car that offers many features—and wears the price—of a larger car? Forty-thousand miles with such a car should tease out the answer.
So Much Money, So Much Hotness
In light of the high base price, we demonstrated restraint with our long-termer’s factory order sheet; we reluctantly skipped leather seats, keyless ignition, an upgraded stereo, and satellite navigation. But don't cry for us, Argentina. We got $3600 worth of factory equipment, including xenon lights ($500), white turn-signal lenses ($100), connectivity for Bluetooth devices and iPods ($500), a cold-weather package ($500; it includes folding mirrors plus heated mirrors, seats, and washer jets), dark silver metallic paint ($500), dark gray interior trim ($250), and the Premium package ($1250; it includes a multifunction steering wheel, an alarm system, chrome interior and exterior accents, and automatic climate control). If that seems hedonistic to you, stop reading now. Indeed, after one of our legendary get-togethers involving the video game Rock Band, a toxic cocktail we dubbed the "Teal," maybe a foreign substance almost legal in Ann Arbor, and a one-night stand with a Mini accessories catalog, we wound up with possibly (but not probably) the most expensive Mini on the planet. We ordered a rubber trunk mat ($64.50), twin black center exterior stripes ($92), checkered floor mats ($147.75), an electric cool bag ($175.95), an LED shift indicator ($303.95), a lateral-g gauge ($390.45), a leather-and-Alcantara-wrapped steering wheel ($521), Sirius satellite radio ($599), two-tone polished-and-painted 18-inch wheels ($3200.25), and the Cooper Works body kit ($2199). All told, the waybill read $46,244. Yikes, right? Well, no one ever said that one of the coolest Minis on the planet would be cheap.
Our Body-Kit Blues Are Gone
About that body kit. As noted in an earlier blog post, the front lip came off at an inopportune moment—namely, during top-speed testing. After getting shredded under the wheels, it wasn’t a candidate for reattachment. Despite a couple of man-hours and literally tens of dollars poured into a full forensic investigation (we dumped the mangled air dam into an intern's cubicle and asked him to take a look), it was impossible to determine if improper installation or a pretesting close encounter with a curb led to the carnage. We buy Mini's claim that there is no design defect; the kit is sold worldwide, and it is regularly autobahn-tested at top speed, both by Mini itself and by the thousands of customers who have the kit. No other incidents like ours have been reported, nobody here fessed up to running it into a curb, and the installer claims it was put together correctly (it is a dealer-installed part), so we simply replaced the damaged parts and called it a fluke. A second top-speed test was performed with no problem.
Now that our car is back in one piece, what's it like to live with a Mini that costs as much as a decently equipped 3-series? Everyone wants to talk with us when we drive this car. In our logbook, we've already recorded props from drivers of everything from Jeeps to Lexuses. Only one editor got the stink eye; a Dodge Magnum driver "with his last name vinyled on the back window in case he forgets it, I guess" told senior editor Erik Johnson to "get a real car." Either Johnson cut the guy off (likely), or the guy saw Mini's roadster and coupe concepts with the same wheels and body kit and assumed we'd ripped off the look. (We had ours before the copycats showed up at the Frankfurt auto show. So there.)
Our Mini's other big attention grabber is its exhaust. Although not insanely loud, it snorts, cracks, and pops like a DTM car’s. The aggressive sound coming from such a cute car nearly forces the driver—and everyone else within earshot—to crack a grin. It's the standard exhaust in all John Cooper Works Minis, but the droptop (which has been down a vast majority of the time) provides the driver maximum aural contact. And our car is quick, too, going from 0 to 60 mph in 6.3 seconds, which is 0.1 second behind the Cooper Works Clubman but tied with the Cooper Works hatch; all three use the same 208-hp turbo four. That’s impressive, given that our convertible carries 71 more pounds than the Clubman and 202 more pounds than the hatch; it’s less impressive when you consider that the regular 172-hp Cooper S hatch requires just 6.2 seconds to 60, too. That’s probably because traction is the limiting factor in these light, front-wheel-drive cars; the Works models pull ahead by the time a quarter-mile has passed.
Now that fall is upon us and Michigan's pleasant weather is ending for the year, we'll get the chance to drive our Mini with the top up. We'll let you know if it can retain its charm under these less idyllic circumstances.
