Mini Cooper S - on 2040-cars

Auto blog

Mini Cooper Convertible Interior Review | Dissecting the oddball

Stepping inside any Mini product is going to throw you for a minute if you haven’t been in one before. ItÂ’s a combination of the odd proportions, weird sightlines and exceedingly quirky design for just about everything inside the cabin. This strangeness, of course, applies to the 2022 Mini Cooper Convertible, which is the subject of this review. Arguably, the Convertible is even weirder than the regular Hardtop, both of which were updated for 2022. It features a tailgate as a rear loading mechanism and a soft top that folds like an accordion on top of said tailgate, remaining out in the open and visible no matter its position — thereÂ’s simply no room for Mini to stow it out of sight in a trunk cubby hole. That gives the Mini Convertible an odd look with the top down, and due to the top having to rest on top of the tailgate, it also blocks the driverÂ’s view rearward. You can still see super-tall trucks in the rearview mirror, but putting the top down makes you largely reliant on the side mirrors to see whatÂ’s coming up behind you. To mitigate that, thereÂ’s a middle ground of top deployment that simply rolls the top part of the way back, effectively creating a roof-width sunroof. Those are all rather odd quirks, but our favorite convertible Mini quirk of old is nowhere to be found in the latest car: the Openometer. This little feature was a gauge that simply kept track of how long you spent driving around with the top down. ItÂ’s hard to think of a feature that is any more “Mini” than that one, which makes us all the more sad that the gauge no longer exists to shame those who donÂ’t drop the power-folding roof. Looking past the weirdness, thereÂ’s a regular car interior here that straddles the line between a premium and non-premium car. The $40,350 price of our Mini Cooper S tester signals that this is positioned as a small and sporty premium car, and there are some genuinely luxurious touches. The Chesterfield Brown leather seats with white piping and pretty quilting sure do scream luxury, while all of the weighty switches and nicely-damped buttons signal the same. The above said, the standard Mini interior is all leatherette, full of cheap-looking shiny plastic trim and is really slacking when it comes to many features weÂ’d expect would come standard. For example, a base Mini Cooper S Convertible at $28,750 doesnÂ’t have heated seats, proximity entry, auto climate control or an auto-dimming mirror.

Mini deletes center rail in Countryman, Paceman

When Mini first introduced the Countryman, it only came as a four-seater, with a center rail between the two seats that could house things like cup holders and could be slid back and forth. Buyers could even opt for a full-length center rail that ran from just aft of the gear shifter all the way back between the rear seats, like we did in our long-term 2011 Cooper S Countryman All4, shown above.
Shortly after the Countryman's launch, Mini was able to offer the vehicle with a proper rear bench seat; the company could not offer this at launch due to NHTSA guidelines that governed the minimum vehicle width for three-person seating, but those rules were changed. And now, we've received official confirmation of something we reported last year: the Countryman is losing its center rail and four-person seating arrangement altogether. Moving forward, buyers will only be able to spec a Countryman with the bench seat, and a cup holder will be affixed to the back of the forward cabin's center console.
The larger-but-smaller Paceman will also be losing the center rail between its rear seats, but the car will remain a four-seater, instead having a console between the two rear seats that houses a cup holder, an iPod cozy and a 12-volt outlet, according to USA Today.

2014 Mini Cooper S

One of the big challenges as an automotive journalist is reviewing cars that you have a personal connection to. I have a strong passion for Minis. My first new car was a 2004 Cooper S, and I still own a 2006 model. It's this affinity that's left me with a general disdain of the 2007 to 2013 model relative to my first-gen.
The last-generation cars, with their turbocharged engines, softer suspensions, duller steering and homelier looks are, in my mind, inferior to their 2002 to 2006 predecessors. As a car reviewer, though, I couldn't in good conscience argue the same point. The R56, as the last-gen cars were known internally and by enthusiasts, was a better-balanced vehicle that retained the lion's share of the abilities and character of the first-generation, R53 Cooper S, but they were better thought out, better designed, more livable, and felt like more complete products.
Before the third-generation of the reborn Mini Cooper S landed in my driveway, I couldn't help but wonder whether the model would continue its slide towards mass appeal, or if it would re-embrace the enthusiast realm with a stronger driver-focused mission. As I found out during my week with the car, it was a bit of both.