Small car, Big Love: Driving the Classic Mini

Huge smiles, trembling hands, sore knees and with adrenaline still coursing through our bodies as we stepped out of these iconic cars, the verdict was unanimous: what a car, what a drive. But first, you might be wondering how we got here, flown all the way to the United Kingdom before being shuttled almost two hours away deep into the charming countryside of East Sussex.

To answer that question, we’d have to rewind six years to my very first trip to Great Britain, where I attended the International Mini Meet, a celebration of all things Mini, timed perfectly with the car’s 60th anniversary. Soaking in the culture of this legendary marque and its devoted fans was nothing short of eye-opening. To simply call it a blast would be underselling it; it wasn’t just a fantastic event, it was a revelation, showcasing just how devoted, fun-loving, and young-at-heart the Mini community truly is.

With the event moving from country to country each year, its return to the UK in 2025 felt like the perfect continuation of my original story, almost as if things had come full circle. Unfortunately, though, just a week before our flight, disaster struck. Our tickets were booked, hotels reserved, and plans firmly set when word came through that the organisers had run into massive financial trouble, forcing them into receivership and cancelling the event altogether. It felt like the rug had been pulled from under our feet, but as the saying goes, every cloud has a silver lining, or rather, a British Green one in my case.

And that is how I found myself behind the wheel of Lilibet, a 1992 British Open Classic, a limited production UK-dm edition with only 1,000 examples built, with the “Open” in its name referencing its electrically operated, full-length Webasto fabric sunroof, a first for a UK-market Mini.

More importantly, Lilibet runs a carbureted, naturally aspirated 1275cc inline-four engine pumping out a massive 90 horsepowers and 92Nm of torques, allowing her to hit 100km/h in a scant 13.4 seconds. When she was brand new of course. For today, what was most important, though, was that she had just been fitted with a brand new gearbox, allowing for tight and somewhat precise shifts through her 4-speed box. Well, as precise as a classic Mini can be.

Of course, you can probably tell I’m only poking fun at her performance figures. What’s no joke, however, is the sheer care and attention lavished on the classic Minis from Small Car Big City (seriously, Google them). Beyond the refreshed gearbox, Lilibet’s steering feels tight and wonderfully responsive, with hardly a hint of the slack you’d usually expect from a car of her age, making her an absolute delight to thread along the winding country backroads of East Sussex.

And indeed, handling is what it’s all about when it comes to these classic and ingenious little runabouts, so much so that once you turn the first corner with gusto, all aforementioned power and performance figures go straight out the (manually wound) window. With its tiny footprint, featherweight build, and near-nonexistent overhangs, the Mini is pure point-and-shoot motoring, just turn the wheel and off you go, perfectly highlighting its iconic “go-kart” driving character.

Quirks? Oh, there are plenty. The foot pedals are tiny and squeezed ever so close together in a compact footwell, demanding a certain level of care or skill to avoid mashing the brakes and throttle at the same time. The horn doesn’t live on the steering wheel, either; it’s operated by pushing the indicator stalk. The gear lever sits delightfully close to the driver (and passenger!), but the throws, while tight on our new gearbox, are still long enough to remind you you’re not in a modern car. And as for safety… well, with no ABS, no servo-assisted brakes on my car, and a crumple zone that basically spans the entire vehicle, you definitely need to keep your wits about you when puttering alongside the latest SUVs. The suspension system is another classic oddity: no conventional shocks and springs here, just literally rubber cones.

Add in the surprisingly spacious cabin for a car of its size, a cabin that often creaks with personality, and the playful responsiveness of the tiny 1.3-litre engine, and you start to understand why driving a classic Mini is as much about connection and attentiveness as it is pure joy.

And judging by the countless waves, cheers, and smiles our little convoy drew, it’s a joy that seems to be shared equally by both drivers and onlookers alike.

Joined by a small convoy of other classics, our route carried us through fast-flowing country lanes, sweeping coastal curves, and overly narrow, yet so very picturesque medieval towns. Through it all, Lilibet’s plucky 1.3-litre danced happily through the gears, ever generous with her little pops and bangs on the overrun. It was the sort of drive where you just don’t want to stop, stupid grins plastered on our faces, each mile (or kilometre) a gentle reminder of the driving spirit and buzz that still lies at the heart of today’s modern Minis, albeit now wrapped in layers of technological wizardry and advanced safety features.

But all good things must come to an end, and sadly, our delightful time with Lilibet was no exception. While we handed the keys back to our minders, we carried home one of the most memorable press drives ever, a journey matched in joy by our mid-point pit stop to visit Mike and Charlie Cooper. Yes, the Cooper family. Yes, from where the legendary Mini Cooper name first originated. Stay tuned!