2009 Mini Cooper Clubman JCW. Click image to enlarge

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Review and photos by Jil McIntosh

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2009 Mini Cooper Clubman

Oshawa, Ontario – I remember being at the Toronto Auto Show when BMW brought out the all-new model that would once again wear the venerable Mini name. The introductory press days are a great opportunity to see the behaviour of Automobilius Journalati in its natural habitat: the species often feigns disinterest, lest it be mistaken for a “newbie,” or someone who hasn’t already scoped out the auto in detail on spy-photo websites. But when the presentation was finished, there was a cavalry charge to the stage, with everyone fighting for a chance to sit in the little coupe.

I was one of them, and I’ve never lost my taste for this little gadabout. And for my first time out with a Clubman model, the BMW/Mini folks provided me with a John Cooper Works (JCW) model, which ups the ante on the turbocharged Mini S to 208 horsepower and 192 lb-ft of torque, compared to the regular S’s 172 horses and 177 lb-ft.

It also increases the price, and this is where Mini loses those who think cars should be priced by weight and volume. They aren’t inexpensive cars in any form, with the naturally-aspirated Clubman starting at $26,400. The turbocharged Clubman S starts at $31,500, but the JCW Clubman begins its ascent at $39,990. My tester was further optioned to a total of $45,530 – far more than I would have paid for it, as much as I liked driving it, but that’s what makes this a relatively exclusive brand.

A new model introduced for 2008, the Clubman is meant to be reminiscent of the Mini Traveller, Countryman and Clubman Estate models of the 1960s. Its wheelbase and overall length are longer than the Mini Cooper; it’s also taller, but not wider. It has a single door on the driver’s side, while on the passenger side, a small secondary door provides easier (but not necessarily easy) access to the second-row seats.

2009 Mini Cooper Clubman JCW. Click image to enlarge

It has no exterior handle, and can only be opened if the passenger’s front door is open and the seatbelt is not in use. In the back, the Mini Cooper’s one-piece, top-hinged hatch is replaced with two small “barn doors,” which swing out independently. The taillights remain attached to the body, with the doors cut out and sealed around them. Inside, the instrument panel and controls are shared with the Cooper models.

All Mini models use a 1.6-litre four-cylinder engine that’s turbocharged on the S and JCW variants. A six-speed automatic that can be added to all others is verboten on the JCW, which strictly comes with a six-speed manual. Put your foot into the accelerator and hang on tight, because even with the Clubman’s extra weight (80 kg over the Cooper S), the turbocharged powerplant gets you where you’re going in a hurry. It’s officially rated at 6.8 seconds to get to 100 km/h, a mere 0.3 seconds more than a Cooper S with the JCW package.

Those hot exhaust gases swirl out through twin pipes that sit on either side of the car, rather than the mid-mounted pair that perch below the license plate on the regular Cooper S. There’s a lovely growl to the exhaust note, especially when it’s driven hard, but at lower speeds in city traffic, quick hops off the throttle tended to result in a popping sound out the back. A BMW rep told me that enthusiasts enjoy this visceral “crack,” but I just found it annoying; from inside, it sounded like the car was passing gas, and not the petroleum type.

Speaking of gas, the Mini asks for the premium variety. Against a published rating of 7.9 L/100 km in the city and 5.8 on the highway, I averaged 8.8 L/100 km (32 mpg), which was far better than I expected to achieve, given that I didn’t give the car an easy time during my week with it.

2009 Mini Cooper Clubman JCW. Click image to enlarge

The console includes a “Sport” button, which quickens the accelerator response and gives an even more direct response to steering input. It deactivates when the ignition is turned off and must be switched back on each time, which I ended up doing almost every time I started it, because it really is fun, without being twitchy. All that power to this front-driver makes for some pretty impressive torque steer, though, and you very quickly learn to hang onto the wheel. If you’ve driven the Cooper model, you’ll probably find that it’s a little better balanced through the twisties than the longer and heavier Clubman, but that’s relative. I think only hard-core enthusiasts who regularly show up at the track will find reason to fault the Clubman for it; everyday drivers who just like some spirit in their steeds should be impressed by its agility, and the longer wheelbase also makes for a ride that’s slightly more pliant on rough roads.

One of the problems with the Mini’s devotion to its looks – and it can be a problem with any slavishly retro styling – is that form doesn’t always translate into function. It starts with the exterior door handles, which look great, but which require you to put your hand inside them, and then squeeze the inner workings against the outer shell. My fingers aren’t very strong, and I often had trouble opening them, especially when my hands were cold. Should the weather turn sour, or you live in a province that uses road salt, there’s no way to avoid getting your hand or your glove dirty.

I’ve also never twigged to the Mini’s centre stack, which is beautifully styled, and about as intuitive as a Greek road map to a Russian driver. The huge centre-mounted pod, in homage to the original Mini, contains the speedometer; I always end up using the digital readout in the tachometer, which is the gauge directly in front of the driver. The stereo is a three-step process: audio buttons and tuner knob up top, CD player in the centre, and the power and volume knob at the bottom. Climate mode buttons mimic the shape of the Mini’s winged logo, but the fan speed and heater dials on either side must be tapped up or down, rather than spun. A row of identical toggles below, separated by little metal gates, handle power windows, fog lamps and power locks. It isn’t easy to do anything without taking your eyes off the road.

“Comfort Access” can be added for $490, which gives you a proximity key with pushbutton start. Mine wasn’t so equipped, and so I had to insert the saucer-shaped key and then press a starter button. My car did have numerous features added to its list, though, including “Lounge Leather” to replace the standard faux cowhide, heated seats, automatic climate control, rain-sensing wipers (I didn’t get any rain, but Mini’s auto wipers have failed my “work in all conditions” test before), and a sunroof. It’s actually two large sunroof panels, including one over the rear seats, and while only the front one slides open, both of them pop up. That’s very unusual, as usually the rear panel on these double-glass affairs is fixed in place. When the front pane slides open, a deflector pops up, and it works very well, so that you just get ventilation instead of a windstorm. The sliding cover for both panels is an open-weave affair that lets in lots of sunshine. I appreciated that during the cooler weather I experienced, but I don’t know if drivers would prefer a thicker material to keep out the rays on a hot summer day.

2009 Mini Cooper Clubman JCW. Click image to enlarge

As always, the front seats are very well done, with supportive design and good bolstering. A five-foot-eleven friend offered to assess the rear seat, and so I opened the front door and then unlatched the smaller door in behind. He still needed to fold up somewhat to get in, but once he was there, he reported sufficient legroom, and a comfortable chair. If he’d wanted a coffee, he could have parked it in the cupholder molded into the armrest.

Lacking a central pillar, these secondary doors can sometimes feel wobbly, but once the Mini’s was closed, it was as solid as a regular door. It’s also well integrated and doesn’t make the car look clunky.

The rear barn doors are more of a novelty; they look great, but I find the Cooper’s one-piece hatch more practical, especially since the central pillar in back cuts down on rearward visibility. Hitting the key fob unlocks the right-hand door and pops it open slightly; you then manually open the left one. With the rear seat up, the cargo floor is 50 cm long, while folding the rear seat opens it to 130 cm of length. (The last Mini Cooper I drove measured 37 and 100 cm, respectively.) My car came with an optional $450 Travel Package, which added a flat-loading floor: the floor cover holds up to 75 kg (165 lb), according to the owner’s manual, while valuables can be neatly tucked out of sight under it. The option package also includes a folding storage bin that would make it a cinch to carry home grocery bags without your canned spaghetti rolling around in back.

As with all Mini models, the Clubman is more about what it is, than what it isn’t. You can bring home some of your IKEA shopping with it, but it’s not primarily a cargo hauler. You can put two friends in the back, but it’s not really for carpooling. It’s great fun to drive, but it’s not a rear-wheel BMW 1 Series. And its hefty price limits its popularity in the mass market. It takes a certain type of customer to want a Mini, but that’s what a niche car is all about. If you don’t get it, it’s not the car for you. And if you do, then slot in that key and have yourself some fun.

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