The original Mini and honesty of purpose

Published: 21 July 2009 Updated: 26 January 2015

The following was uploaded direct to CAR Online by Arunabh Satpathy. Remember you can upload your own musings, articles and reviews by using the Upload function at the foot of each article page

What can possibly redeem a soul? Bruised, battered, chewed up and spat on, people often fall back on the only thing there is to fall back upon. ‘At least I tried my best.’ This paean to honesty is often one that can be parroted with respect to cars as well. A failed product, or one that has been unfairly ignored, can fall back upon its honesty of purpose. It may or may not be a success or a failure.

An example of the former would have to be the original Mini, celebrating its half centenary this summer. Designed by the BMC as a response to the Kermit-looking German bubble cars and the Suez fuel crisis, the Mini was driven by a single minded pursuit of efficiency in every way – fuel efficiency or space efficiency. It succeeded magnificently.

Mini at 50: a broad appeal

It also managed a feat no car before or since has replicated with nearly as much success: appealing to everybody. Part of it cannot but be attributed to sheer luck, and the momentum that a genre-breaking product is privileged to have. But there has to be another explanation as to why rock stars, royalty and the common man could simultaneously own and feel proud to own a Mini. And if you attribute that to sheer luck as a result of stupid people who will only pander to fashion or ego, try explaining why a certain Enzo Ferrari liked to take his Mini out for a spin on Sundays.

The answer is simple: in pursuing absolute efficiency, the Mini also gained certain unexpected advantages. Mounting the engine transversely (sideways, for those not in the know) lowered the centre of gravity of the car, giving it great handling. This appealed to the sporty types, and served the Mini wonderfully in its endeavors in racing and rallying.

It was small on the outside and (relatively) big on the inside, which was great for the everyman, who could seat his 2.2 children in the car with some ease. It was simple, which meant it was rugged, and could be used and abused both by Joe Average on the road and John Cooper in racing.

This simple theme also meant it could be extensively customised, which was a jolly good option for those with more money. A Mini could tell the world exactly who you were. As you can see, it appealed to everybody. All this stemmed from its honesty.

 

When industrial design works

The intent with which a car is designed should not be one that is mucked about with, and usually, we end up with a good product. The Lotus 79, with its iconic black and gold livery, is considered one of the most beautiful Formula One cars ever. It’s also one of the most groundbreaking.

Similar epithets apply to machines like the Porsche 917, the Ferrari F40, the – let’s not limit ourselves to cars – the SR-71 Blackbird, the Saturn V moon rocket, the Concorde and the Golden Gate Bridge.

Bear in mind, all these are machines that were built without the slightest concern given to looks, yet are beautiful and successful designs. Even downright ugly pieces of equipment like the VW Beetle have managed to look ‘cute’ simply because of their honesty.

When industrial design goes wrong

On the other hand, there have been blatantly dishonest grotesqueries like the Pontiac Aztek, the Ford Edsel and something called the Zen Classic in India. They failed and they deserved to fail. The dishonesty in their purpose overshadowed whatever little engineering prowess they might have employed.

A lifestyle vehicle that looks like someone bludgeoned a Montero? A cynical tribute to Edsel Ford with a grille resembling female genitalia? A retro Zen in a market of competitors with their roots in the 1950s? They have no purpose.

Or maybe they do. Maybe we can understand that dishonesty of purpose is not something that will help a product to succeed. We could learn from that and realise that a good design can shape a culture, and that honesty of purpose is the best thing possible for a car to have.

Yet the morbid sacrifice of these unloved children of man goes unnoticed. Why? We go and make ourselves the G-Wiz.

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By Arunabh Satpathy

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