If there’s one thing the Mini Clubman has in spades,
it’s history, however spurious. While today’s design-
intense BMW-developed generation owes absolutely
nothing to its once-radical forebears in anything but
name, the new-millennium Mini has had a massive
influence on a global scale. Not only is it the first
genuine retro smash hit, it’s also the master of
customisation, be it colour, trim, engine, transmission,
bodystyle, you name it. From a base 3dr Mini One
manual to a fully loaded, heavily turbocharged 5dr,
Clubman or Convertible range-topper, there’s a Mini
out there to suit almost everyone.
On the surface, we’ve chosen potentially the wackiest
Mini there is – the wagon-esque Clubman in three-pot
turbo guise. With its barn-type rear doors opening
outwards in sequence, and an even longer wheelbase
than the (older-generation) Countryman that sits above
it, the lengthy Clubman looks a little bit like a sausage
dog. Which is kinda weird for a car.
The C4 Cactus inherits its underpinnings and part
of its name from Citroen’s snoozy current-generation
C4 hatch, much like the jacked-up coupe/hatch DS 4,
though it has been allowed to develop very much of
its own accord, rather than inheriting C4 cast-offs like
the dreary dashboard donated to the DS 4. And it’s this
simpler, weight-conscious approach that underpins the
essence of this unusual vehicle.
Indeed, the Cactus is a very different beast to its
namesake. Almost everywhere you look, its design
has been simplified in the name of utility, but also to
make a statement. For example, its rear door windows
don’t wind down – they pop out, much like a three-door
hatch’s, which won’t please dogs that love shooting the
breeze – though the upside is a perfectly flush rear
body section, as well as extra storage in the lower door.
The front passenger doesn’t get an outer air vent,
but the centre one is twice as big as the driver’s to
compensate, and the Cactus is one of the few cars on
sale today without a tacho. Instead, a simple gearshift
indicator appears in its digital instrument strip when
it believes you should be considering another ratio.
And even if you think that’s poppycock, remember that
PSA’s brilliant turbo-triple is so goddamn tractable and
torquey, it operates much like an air-cooled Volkswagen.
You simply drive it by feel.
In order to rip 200kg from the C4 hatch’s bland body,
however, some ‘weight saving’ is a step too far. Like the
Cactus’s tilt-only steering column, its lack of one-touch
power windows (you have to hold the button for all of
them), no grab-handles in our panoramic roof-equipped
test car, and a flimsy boot-floor cover that leaves
painted metal exposed to scuffing. But then that also
allows some funky body colour to creep inside, like a
car from decades ago, and the Citroen’s deep 358-litre
compartment is a great size, underpinned by a space-
saver spare and a split-fold rear backrest that turns this
Airbumped little charmer into something of a Tardis.
The Clubman might be viewed as a more conservative
Mini by the standards of its form-obsessed brethren,
but we think that’s one of its strengths. As is the fact
it shares surprisingly little sheetmetal with the rather
stumpy 5dr Hatch. Indeed, the Clubman is much, much
larger than its hatchback stablemate, to the point
where it’s almost a totally new car. With a completely
different dashboard. And the measurements confirm
as much – 271mm longer and 73mm wider, riding on a
103mm longer wheelbase. It’s the Mini you have when
you aren’t having a Mini.
Same goes for the surprisingly large 500X. This Fiat-
500-in-name-only ranks equal first with the longest,
widest, tallest and heaviest of its fashionista competitor
set, which is both a good and a bad thing. While the
Clubman adds 25kg to the 500X’s weighbridge ticket,
the Fiat is nearly 160mm taller than the Mini, handing