Style vs. Substance: We explore the new Mini Paceman to see if this seventh incarnation of Mini-niche-exploration is at all convincing in its execution.
Before we begin, can we just take the usual Mini marketing spiel as read, please? You know, the whole Alec Issigonis; hand-doodled design on a napkin; revolution in the small car genre; front-wheel drive – transverse mounted engine packaging; wheels on each corner of the car and swinging sixties – make love not war mêlée. We’ve heard it all before and that’s because this is the seventh Mini since the BMW-lead reintroduction of more than a decade ago.
Taking the new Mini Paceman at face value, one has to admit the seventh incarnation of Mini-niche-exploration is definitely the least convincing of the lot. As defiling as they were to the traditional Cooper hatch; the Roadster, Countryman and Coupe all had their good-intentioned merits. But for most Mini fanatics, the idea of a two-door Countryman is just a bridge too far. Nevertheless, it still deserves a fair evaluation and after my day of driving it the length and breadth of the Western Cape, I came away reminded of that age-old adage; “never judge a book by its cover.”
Well, I say that, but in the case of the Mini Paceman, weirdly, I mean to say; “only judge a book by its cover.” That’s clearly where all the Paceman’s merits lay, in its looks. It’s a statement car, it’s style over substance, it’s a heart-over-head impulse item. There is no conceivable reason why you would want a slightly taller than average, two-door, Countryman, other than its ability to pluck a few choice cords on your heart strings. And bizarrely, this car does pluck a funky ol’ melody if you let it.
Aesthetically, take a look at the all-black A, B and C-pillars, and the contrasting roof colour. Not bad. Then take a look at how the roofline slopes back at the rear, and how that line diverges from the raising belt line? We’ve all heard the ‘coupe-silhouette’ spiel before, but this Paceman has rather a fetching one, if you’re into that sort of thing. And what about that muscly looking rear wheel arch? The more you take it all in, the more it just starts to work somehow.
Around the back is another surprise with the recessed taillights, squat haunches and distinct glasshouse of the cabin sprouting upwards. The taillights themselves are horizontally-biased as opposed to conventional vertical shapes of Minis. All the badging on the rear doesn’t go unnoticed either. The frontend is unfortunately a bit of a disaster still; relying on the Countryman’s drooping face to sell itself. Mini could also invest in LED daytime running lights to secure more adoration from oncoming onlookers. I could do without the tall, bee-sting, radio aerial that interferes with an otherwise tidy roofline.
On the inside, the Paceman feels nicely screwed together. We’ve seen some less than brilliant interiors in the Roadster and Coupe lately, so this is a pleasant turnout. I found myself settling into a comfortable driving position without much effort, while the seats themselves were soft but could do with more lateral support. The interior is strictly a four-seater with Mini’s centre-rail running the length of the cabin. Rear legroom is ample even if the driver and front passenger are seated comfortably. Head room is vast too, perhaps a little too vast, but more about that later when we get to the driving characteristics.
As for the rest of the interior, it’s standard Mini fare with retro toggle switches, a large, centrally mounted, speedometer and rev-counter directly in front of the driver’s line of sight. The cabin ambience is a nice balance of cosseting solidity and enough visibility outwards to not feel claustrophobic.
All that’s left is the driving impression. Surely the Mini Paceman won’t struggle here? And yet, after more than 500 km behind the wheel, I have to conclude it does. The issues start with the large wheels. Both models I drove had 19-inch wheels fitted, shod with grippy-looking Pirelli rubber. This sounds promising, but it makes for a crashing ride over road joins or worn, segmented tarmac. The low profile tyres have a knack of feeling almost as if they’ve gone flat. The Pacemen also has a habit of pitching up and down on its own suspension over seemingly, flat, smooth surfaces. It’s like you’re bobbing for apples down the best stretch of highway you know.
I can only attribute this to the Paceman’s suspension geometry being more reinforced, sportier and unforgiving; and the big, low profile wheel and tyre combination that’s unable to deflect intrusions elsewhere but into the cabin. This promotes the idea of good body rigidity and chassis stiffness at least. Perhaps that will pay dividends on a flat, flowing piece of mountain road?
Here too, there is a niggling issue, however. I mentioned earlier about the vast headroom, well, from a body control point of view, you can feel the burden of the excess head room and tall centre of gravity. The Paceman struggles to maintain good body control through changes of direction. When the weight is loaded up, it’s better, but left to right and back again, the Paceman instils little confidence to drive in a sporty manner.
The steering feel also lacks finesse. The turn into a corner is consistently more eager than you had anticipated. Once you accept this you try your best to search for a more delicate feel, but it just isn’t there. Flicking the car into sport mode helps, but the Paceman, with its tall, boxy, body just can’t respond as intuitively as a ground-hugging Cooper hatch.
The 1.6-litre turbocharged engine sampled in both Paceman models I drove has been around for many a generation now and needs little introduction other than to say the Paceman is commendable for its gutsy performance. The six-speed manual is more involving than the automatic, but the clutch feel is a little hesitant if you hustle through the gears. The six-speed automatic is a more sensible option on a daily basis. The all-wheel drive Cooper S can only be had with the automatic tranny.
If turbo power isn’t your bag, there is the 90 kW 1.6-litre, but 135 kW and 260 Nm of torque is wholesome fun in the Cooper S Paceman models. 0 – 100 km/h is dusted in 7.5 seconds in the manual and 8.2 seconds in the automatic, with fuel consumption rated at 6.6 L/100 km and 8.2 L/100 km respectively. Although we saw well into the double figures for fuel consumption on the day.
I came away from my first Mini Paceman drive surprised at how swayed I was by the styling. It’s out of the Toyota FJ Cruiser, Citroen DS3 stylebook and you could argue it’s the car the Countryman could’ve or should’ve always been perhaps. And I certainly prefer it to the Mini Countryman as an overall package. The Paceman’s lack of finesse when it comes to ride quality and its shortfall in dynamic satisfaction when going quickly is something I was equally not expecting from a Mini. I suppose style and substance in one package was too much to ask for? Thankfully there are six other Minis to choose from.
Mini Paceman Pricing:
Mini Paceman Cooper M/T: R299 236
A/T: R312 600
Mini Paceman Cooper S M/T: R360 407
A/T: R378 302
Mini Paceman Cooper S All4 A/T: R411 400
