Say what you like about my Cooper S’s gratuitous John Cooper Works- avoured bodykit, racing stripes and fruity exhaust note, but there’s no mistaking it for a common-or-garden Cooper C.
And so I suppose I find myself writing something of a eulogy. The hot supermini is a type of car that has contributed more than its fair share of five-star road tests over the years, and of which you can trace the evolution back to such icons as the Peugeot 205 GTi and Renault 5 Turbo.
Even if a brave new electric era awaits (and accounting for the fact that the petrol Cooper S will be on sale until the end of this decade at least), there is undeniably an undercurrent of poignancy to my stewardship of this old stager, and I plan to celebrate every minute of it.
Beginning right now, with an urgent trip to the supermarket. Maybe one a few towns over.
Final update
It’s easy to become desensitised to the exorbitant prices of new cars as they creep, slowly but surely, ever upwards.
Just four years ago, the cheapest new car in the UK was £8000. Today, it’s approaching double that. So I’ll confess I didn’t immediately gulp, gasp or go berserk when I saw £34,500 at the bottom of the spec sheet for our Cooper S.
Given the general state of things, I thought it sufficiently equipped, suitably potent and aspirational enough to warrant price parity with, say, a speccy Audi A3 or a base-level Volkswagen Tiguan.
But after several thousand miles at the wheel, I’m running the numbers and wondering if I’ve been a bit short-changed, particularly when I had such a lovely time with the entry-level Cooper C, which is available for £10,000 less (albeit in our case with two fewer doors).
Sure, you get a healthy bump in power with the S, but rare was the occasion I found the C short on puff, and for the casual driver it’s still more than capable of raising a grin on a country lane.
Plus, the C’s more compliant suspension set-up and smaller wheels make it the more re ned proposition on our shattered roads.
