► Life with our Countryman JCW ends
► Sometimes brilliant, always portly
► Read month 2 here
JCW. Three letters that are meant to signal peak Mini, to get the heart racing like you’ve just ingested the annual production of Columbia’s most infamous export. They’ve been used on Mini’s halo model since 1961 and complement the brand like Marmite on toast.
Except in the case of this long-term test car, they’re tacked onto the back of a 1.6-tonne SUV. Can a car this big and heavy really be a JCW?
In three months of Mini Countryman ownership, it’s been a nagging worry as to whether that badge can be justified on this particular model. There’s been a John Cooper Works Countryman since 2012 – in fact it was the first five-door Mini to get the full Cooper treatment – but 12 years of a habit doesn’t necessarily make it right.
I’ve found it difficult to warm to the Countryman JCW in general. Partly it’s the size and looks – to me, it’s just too ungainly and has fussy details that don’t create a cohesive look. Some bits work, like the 20-inch JCW ‘flag’ wheels, while others don’t, such as the red side blade, the panel dangling down from the roof.
This matters. The feelgood factor has to be right as you approach a car, especially one that purports to be desirable, to make you want to unlock it. Cost doesn’t bring the feeling; character does. It’s why I always feel a little frisson of nervous energy every time I unlock my 2003 Fiat Panda 4×4, and that frisson is not entirely down to doubt over whether it’ll actually start or not.
The interior is better than the exterior. Dominated by the huge round touchscreen, you’re left in no doubt that you’re in a Mini. I found the slightly raised driving position to be comfortable and the head-up display is more easily readable than in the Mini hatch. The material, with a stippled texture across the dash, is smart. And to anyone worried about how dirty it’ll get over time, don’t be. I never hoovered the dash in those three months and it looked as good at the end of the test as at the start. There are various colours that project across the dash at night and add a bit of interest.
The infotainment itself is okay but not as intuitive as in the Mercedes EQE I recently spent several months driving. It doesn’t have the easy sub-menus of the Benz, so you have to do a bit more prodding to get into common functions. The heated seats, for instance, come on automatically if it’s cold outside (I tried to turn this set-up off but never did find a fix), but you have to touch a particularly small section of screen twice to turn them off.
What makes this especially galling is that the drive modes, here called ‘experiences’, get their own actual, real-life button and yet I hardly ever used them. Daft.
Still, one of them is Go-Kart and that’s what we need to press when we reach the roads outside Crickhowell, the location for our final send-off for the car. It feels like it needs a good leg-stretch to see about the justification for the JCW badge.
To be fair, you can feel the Mini DNA despite the size and weight of the car – it turns in really sharply and is dominated by the front end, just like every Mini since the BMW reboot.
The flipside is a sluggish dual-clutch gearbox and overly harsh ride, despite the adaptive dampers that weirdly can’t be controlled from the cabin.
In three months I’ve never got used to how harshly it rides. Yes, it wears a JCW badge, but it must also still function as family transport; my six-year-old’s complaints say that it’s failed in that regard. It’s not the relaxing journey it should be.
And yet. Get to Wales, flick the gearbox into manual for the full flappy-paddle experience, the drive mode into Go-Kart, and suddenly there’s a car that starts to make sense. Despite being tall, it hangs on well through a corner and is actually enjoyable, the stiff ride now making sense in controlling any body movement through a left and right kink. Even the synthesised engine note that pops on upshifts doesn’t feel too ridiculous.
There’s a healthy dose of torque steer as the adaptable two-/four-wheel drive system struggles to react to the front wheels scrabbling in that ancient battle of power vs tarmac. With a manual ’box (just do it, Mini!) it might even feel a bit like an old-school hot hatch, which would take it closer to justifying the badge.
If you’re getting one, don’t bother with Level 3, the most expensive options pack at £5200. We hardly ever used any of those bits like the driver assist (pointless) or massage seats (aggressive).
Overall, the Mini Countryman is big and reasonably practical, with easily enough room for our family and a triple helping of small pooches. But it’s not endearing.
It’s a useful tool, but a Mini should be more than that. Especially a JCW.
Read month 2
Read month 1
Logbook: Mini Countryman JCW
Price £41,575 (£47,375 as tested)
Performance 1998cc turbocharged four-cylinder, 296bhp, 5.4sec 0-62mph, 155mph
Efficiency 35.3mpg (official), 33.5mpg (tested), 180g/km CO2
Energy cost 21.0p per mile
Miles this month 1173
Total miles 7005
Count the cost
Cost new £47,375
Part exchange £33,855
Cost per mile 21.0p
Cost per mile including depreciation £1.93