I
really don't understand it. But then, there are so many things I
don't understand.
When
BMW assumed control and revived the Mini nameplate in the early years
of this century (2001 to be exact), it was an accomplished update of
a much-loved original that immediately commandeered the hearts of car-lovers everywhere.
At
the center of its appeal lay a surprising degree of utility and a
playful sense of whimsy, that when combined with traditional
automotive attributes like nimble handling and robust acceleration,
made the Mini that rare sports car which appealed to men and women
alike.
And
when a 6' 3'' individual could sit inside with posture to make a
teacher proud, well, the Mini became something truly unique. The
critics loved it, the public loved it.
What
could go wrong?
In
a word, businessmen.
Before
long, BMW was succumbing to the most-tired cliche in commerce: bigger
is better. The Mini's singular appeal was then diluted by
model variants, including the ridiculous Countryman, whose very
existence contradicted the ethos the Mini was created to serve.
The
latest Mini's bloated appearance evokes memories of
cladding-encrusted SUVs of a not-so-long ago vintage, the clean lines
of the original replaced by a lumpy, bulging exterior that is a
fun-house mirror distortion of the original.
Of
course, since SUVs and crossovers seem to be the Mini's developmental
target, perhaps this shouldn't be a surprise.
Worse,
quality control has taken a back seat to marketing. In this case, it
means broadening the model range until it has reached the lowest
common denominator critical mass prized by brand managers everywhere:
a model for everyone.
Mini's
handlers have decided it's better to be a car a large number of
people could conceivably have a use for rather than be an automobile
cherished by a smaller, but more-fervent target audience. Call it
safety in numbers. Decentralization. Diversification.
Call
it anything but successful.
Several
car magazine's long-term tests have revealed shoddy workmanship
apparent not only upon delivery of the vehicle, but which continues to
assert itself as the car accumulates thirty and forty thousand
miles. And despite the base car's MSRP, fixes aren't cheap.
Popular
perception has yet to catch up with reality, as Mini sales continue
to steam along (at least when they're taken as a group and not
compared year-to-year on a per-model basis). But if consumer's unpredictable and
ever-changing tastes don't doom the Mini, poor word of mouth and a
blurry sense of purpose will.
Whether
you blame German management or English construction, the Mini's fall
from icon to also-ran has been difficult to watch. It only heightens
one's appreciation for Mazda and their tightly-focused Miata MX-5,
which has admittedly grown a bit larger and more-powerful over the
years, also.
But
Mazda has resisted the temptation to stray from its original mission
statement and has only refined and sharpened the Miata's approach,
which is why we continue to see the still-vibrant roadster show up on
Ten-Best lists long after the Mini has lapsed into premature middle-age.
There's
a lesson in here somewhere, if only someone would listen.
