Major omission in the new Mini Cooper range

The new Mini Cooper electric is genuinely darty and hugely fun to drive, but an authentic Mini experience requires one thing you just can’t get anymore - and that’s a gearbox.

This Mini had just two doors and at least looked like the ones I occasionally fantasise about buying. Picture: Supplied

Before setting off for my testing drive in the Mini Cooper SE, I was forced to sit and centre myself with some deep breathing and a deepening loathing of humanity in general.

I’ve always loved Minis – one of the first cars I ever drove was an excrement-brown original that would have easily fit in the glovebox of a modern Toyota HiLux – and found them fizzing fun, both to look at and to drive. Being so small and intimate, a Mini absolutely must, of course, be fitted with a manual gearbox, partly because it just feels right, and partly because the automatic versions fitted to Minis have always been disgracefully awful. A Mini with an auto box is like a vegan with a barbecue.

But a Mini executive had just informed me that you can no longer buy a new manual Mini, not only in left-leg-lazy Australia but anywhere in the world. This was like discovering that all meat pies served at the footy henceforth will be made with Faux ‘n’ Twenty fake meat (as opposed to the lips, ears and udders of cows, as they should be).

Swallowing this news was tough enough, but I was then told that, in this country, Mini has virtually nothing to do with small, zippy, sporty cars at all any more, because more than 70 per cent of its sales are now SAVs (that’s what you call an SUV that is too small to take seriously; I believe the ‘A” stands for “Activity” rather than “Asshat”).

Happily, the Mini I was driving today had just two doors and thus at least looked like the ones I occasionally fantasise about buying (it will have to be a second-hand manual Cooper S, obviously). Sadly it had no real gearbox at all, however, because it was an EV, and thus my hopes of familiar joyfulness were not high.

At $58,990, it’s about $6000 cheaper than the Mini EV it replaces. Picture: Supplied

Things were also a little strange and unfamiliar in the cabin, which features “knitted surfaces made from recycled polyester yarn”. Polyester is unpleasant enough to touch before it gets recycled, and this stuff resembles brightly coloured steel wool.

Apparently Minis are now 100 per cent free of leather and chrome, and apparently that is now a selling point. In other woke news, Mini wheels are made from 70 per cent recycled aluminium and 100 per cent green power, which seems to suggest they only turn when the sun is out and the wind is blowing.

Fortunately all of this, and even the inexcusable inclusion of a selfie camera above the rear-vision mirror, was forgotten once I started driving. It shouldn’t be possible, but somehow this Cooper SE is genuinely hugely fun, in the way that Minis are meant to be.

The 40.7kWh battery under the floor means the centre of gravity is low, and the darty steering means it can change direction like an angered snake and chew up bends like a sports car. It’s only got 160kW and 330Nm, but thanks to its torquey EV power delivery it always feels enthusiastic and punchy – and at 1.6 tonnes it’s not as heavy as a full-sized electric car. Despite being front-wheel drive it somehow gets its power to the ground without constantly scrabbling for grip, too.

Being so small and intimate, a Mini absolutely must, of course, be fitted with a manual gearbox, right?

I must admit I really, really enjoyed throwing it at curvy roads. I’d even say I very nearly loved it, in fact. Startlingly, the lack of a manual gearbox didn’t rile me as much as I thought it would (at least it didn’t have a shitty automatic one, lurching between gears), but you really do miss the engine noises from what is usually such a bubbly, excitable little car.

Mini has tried to replace this by providing a selection of fake sounds through its various Experience Modes. One of them is supposed to resemble the “timeless, lumpy sounds of the original”, but it doesn’t, it just sounds like a kid with a bad cold making spaceship sounds. To be fair, most of the other fake noises are even worse.

And worse still, when you come off the throttle to carve through the midpoint of a corner, the noise just disappears completely - which obviously it would not do if there was an engine – and this creates a genuinely awkward silence. It somehow spoils the mood. You’re screaming along a straight, pouring into a bend, hitting the brakes and (kind of) enjoying the frenzied fake revving and then… nothing, until you stamp the throttle again. It’s like someone shutting off the karaoke music just as you’re hitting the highs of My Heart Will Go On, leaving you entirely exposed.

I didn’t like that bit at all, but overall I was impressed that they’ve managed to make an electric Mini that’s almost as much fun as a real one used to be. And at $58,990, it’s about $6000 cheaper than the Mini EV it replaces. So, there is still some good news for me to report.

Mini Cooper SE

Engine: Single permanent magnet synchronous motor (160kW/330Nm), 40.7kWh battery

Transmission: One-speed reduction gear, front-wheel drive

Efficiency: 14.1kWh per 100km; range 275km

Price: $58,990

Rating: 3.5/5

Editor’s note: The May 24 edition of The Australian Weekend Magazine carries incorrect pictures of the Mini Cooper. This error will be acknowledged in print in the issue of June 7.