Ten years ago today, I picked up my 2003 Mini Cooper S from the dealership, and now I get all sappy about it.
In the grand scheme of things, ten years old is quite old for a car. Most cars are wrecked, break down, stop passing government-mandated tests or are abandoned long before then. It’s strange to think that my Mini turns ten years old today. Even now, I still get asked questions about it by total strangers on a seemingly weekly basis, which I think is a testament to its timeless looks. “Is it electric?”, “What kind of gas mileage does it get?”, “How fast does it go?” and “Is it fun to drive?”. My standard answers to those questions are “Of course not,” “not very good compared to new cars,” “fast enough” and “hell yes”.
Ten years ago, the Cooper S was the giant-slaying darling of the automotive press. Objectively, it was beating out much more exotic and expensive machinery. One of the stats that sealed the deal for me was that it was able to beat out a 996 Porsche 911 Turbo in the slalom. Sure, weaving in and out of cones is a somewhat pointless exercise, but the idea that a $20,000 car could beat a $120,000 car at anything really stuck with me. Coincidentally, I had a regular customer who had a 996 Turbo (I was a valet at the time). He showed up in a Cooper S one day and I mentioned to him that I had one on order. He said that he had bought the Mini for his wife, and he hadn’t been able to stop driving it since. His wife later showed up to meet him in the Turbo!
I waited six long months after ordering it before it finally arrived at Global Imports BMW/Mini in Atlanta ten years ago today. Collection was a family affair. Both my parents and my sister came along. My sales rep was talking me through some of the quirks, such as how to fold down the rear seats, the AC vent in the glove box (which supposedly could keep sandwiches cold) and the hood-opening handle which for some dumb reason is on the passenger side. All I wanted to do was drive it home, which I eventually did while adhering as best I could to the engine running-in procedures.
It’s actually sort of a unique Mini Cooper S in that I had it special-ordered free of all options. My reasoning at the time was a) it would be lighter; b) cheaper; and c) there would be fewer things to break later on. I still stand by this reasoning. Hell, I would have ordered it with wind-up windows if I could have.
This was the first car (and last) car I ever bought. Compared to most of the rest of the Drive Cult garage, which is a revolving door (with obvious exceptions) for a variety of high performance cars, the Mini is practically ancient. As a car enthusiast, I fully realize how strange this behavior is. I’m supposed to buy and sell cars on yearly basis and experience the many different unique experiences each has to offer. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been yearning for something rear-wheel-driven for a few years now. Hopefully that will happen sooner rather than later in the form of a E46 M3, but it will not be a replacement for the Mini.
For the most part, I hate it when people talk about their cars like they’re sentient beings and not inanimate objects. I grind my teeth when people call their cars “he” or “she,” but I feel like I’ve formed a bond with this piece of machinery. The Mini and I have simply been through too much together for me to sell it to some stranger for a few thousand dollars, because to me, it’s worth far more than that. I’ve spent nearly a third of my life with this car; girlfriends, daily commutes, burnouts, near crashes, amazing roads, cross country road trips and major repairs. I remember how every scratch, dent and ding got there (none of them through any fault of my own!), and I’ve also disassembled and reassembled much of if with my own hands. I even hand-stitched a tear in the one of the seats not long ago. Perhaps I’m being excessively sentimental about this car, and maybe some of you are probably thinking I’m a little weird at this point. But isn’t that what loving cars is all about?
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