Very rarely even for those who drive many different cars for a living, they will come across that one car that just completely breaks every preconception of how things should be, what can reasonably be expected of a car or a category, and in doing so, unearths every yard stick in their mind, with every car they drive henceforth having to be measured against that new standard, spoiling that blessed person beyond any mere mortal's conception. A Lotus Elise's steering feel, for example. A
Porsche Taycan's acceleration, or even a
Honda Fit's packaging. When it comes to the way an FF sports car drives, the car that blew my overstimulated, desensitised sim racer mind and spoiled my cynical brain silly was the DC2 Honda Integra Type R, a car so magical that Honda themselves have never really replicated that magical feel all these years later.
I'm here to tell you that the DC2 ITR has itself been DC2 ITRed by the 2005 Mini Cooper S.
Just as vehemently as understeer usually dominates the experience of driving an FF sports car, the driving dynamics of the Cooper S is so unexpectedly fantastic that it could almost render irrelevant the fabled history of the Mini marque. You really needn't know any of the original Mini's successes in rally, how it revolutionised drivetrain packaging, or whether you can steer it from the roof to appreciate this modern Mini, because the R53 generation Cooper S does all the talking for itself without needing to rely on nostalgia when driven on the racetrack—not something many modern cars wearing old namesakes can lay claim to. Despite the sacrilege of being more than double the size of its forebearer, the Bayerische Mini Werke is, in my millennial eyes, in just that perfect sweet spot of both power and mass for a hot hatch; big enough to fit most, pack some grunt, and be seen and safe, but small enough to be chuckable, intuitive, and engaging to drive, before all the modern safety regulations and demand for insane power bloats and neuters cars to where they can no longer offer these sensation of an agile and responsive pocket rocket in the palm of your hand. Almost as if they knew they had to capitalise on that golden moment in history when such a car is possible, BMW fitted a supercharger onto the sporty version of the Cooper, the Cooper S, only for this generation of Coopers, making this week's car a special standout even in the long, ever growing history of Minis.
...which makes the peculiar omission of the supercharger whine in Gran Turismo Sport all the more sorely missed. This 2005 Mini Cooper S has been with the Gran Turismo series since 2010's Gran Turismo 5, but it took Polyphony Digital
twelve years to finally give the Cooper S its supercharger whine in 2022's Gran Turismo 7, giving the quirkily styled car a personality to match. Here in GTS though, you'll have to make do with just the rather uninspired sound of the transversely mounted Tritec T16b4 inline four banger, though the extra 54 horses herded by the supercharger are all here and accounted for. The resultant
167HP (125kW) then goes through a
close ratio 6 speed manual gearbox to the front wheels, another first for the now big boy, business meaning Mini, which can now bring its 1,180kg (2,601lbs) body up to 100km/h in somewhere around the 9.3 second mark on Sport Hard tyres.
As with any Mini, its acceleration isn't going to set anyone's pants on fire, not unless they had just jumped out of a burning Mazda Roadster. Even with all that gleaming and bespoke hardware, the R53 Cooper S only truly comes alive when it comes time for the supercharger to shut up and the Getrag gearbox to drop some gears. German this car may now be, but the R53 Cooper still embodies the spirit of a good David punching up against Goliaths with little power but much finesse, just as the Queen intended. Chuck this thing into a corner, and the car's four main strengths immediately become apparent, those being its diminutive body, light weight, incredibly direct and talkative steering, and some shockingly stiff
1.5Hz springs to prop it all up with. Despite the car not accelerating fast, the close ratios enabled by the 6 speed gearbox ensures that the engine can be kept screaming at all times, like it naturally wants to, making it sound and
feel fast. Backed up by readily available responsiveness and some serious cornering speeds, the Cooper S is not only a serious track toy, but also one that never stops bombarding you with information and requests for your input, making it among one of the most engaging and technical drives I have ever driven here in GT Sport!
What that all translates to is that the car is so easy to learn and such a natural fit that it somehow skips the due process of feeling intuitive and jumps straight to feeling familiar, despite the fact that it was my first time helming one during race day, almost as if I met a younger, hotter version of my high school sweetheart I never knew she had. I'm usually someone who needs a few races to learn a car's idiosyncrasies before I can really bring it to my peers during race day, but in the Mini? I went at them hammer and tong from race 1! Despite our small group representing a range of driving abilities, most races ended up with about 6 cars all within three seconds of each other, a testament to how easy the Mini is to learn and how much it encourages close–knit tussles, a.k.a. the best kind of racecar, certainly better than Formula 1. More than inspiring immediate confidence, the way this car handles brings out the hooligan in every person. During race day, all I could think of were naughty thoughts, like, "Yeah, I can fit into that gap!" "Yes, I can take that hairpin at 120!
", and "hell yeah, I can take that gap in the hairpin at 120!". I usually feel drained and tired at the end of our ~90 minute sessions, but the Mini gave me so much zest for life that I actually had a hard time winding down mentally after the session, wanting to drive it more! In other words, instead of draining me, driving the Mini somehow
energises me!
*
For legal reasons, these are exaggerations.
Drawbacks? Mostly just one if you can ignore the irony of an impractical hatch: The Cooper S, despite being the sporty variant of the Cooper, ironically still has an open differential, and it's an irony that will be at the forefront of the driving experience on the track that's quite literally impossible to ignore. It's not a super big deal on the Comfort Soft tyres the car comes default with in GT7, but in GTS where every car is slapped with Sport Hards, the extra lateral gs the car will gladly pull in the corners does transform the inside wheel into a Sports Hard mechanical eraser for road markings. Past the apex of a turn, you could be doing a middling 6,000rpm when you give the Cooper the beans, and well before the corner exit, you would have already smacked the limiter set at 7,000 several times, owing to the inside wheel spinning so fast and bringing the engine to the limiter, forcing a fuel cut and robbing the car of all momentum coming out of the turn. As an example, the car tops out at 172km/h in 4th gear, but you'll be smacking the limiter constantly while doing a mere 160km/h on Miyabi's centre section chicane, taken flat out. 12km/h (~7mph) doesn't sound like much in writing, but in a close ratio box mated to an engine that begs to be revved out and rewards the driver handsomely for doing so, it's completely counterintuitive that I have to take corner exits a gear higher simply to prevent the limiter from cutting in, which, while mechanically disadvantageous, does work out to be
much faster. I don't even want to imagine this thing on anything other than the smooth, dry racetracks we ran. I mean, come on, an LSD isn't sorcery; Mazda can fit it on a Speed3 and a
diesel Demio, why can't BMW on a sporty version of a sporty icon that has a history of winning dirt rallies and revolutionising drivetrain packaging?
Open diff or not, one thing for sure isn't open for interpretation: the R53 Cooper S is among some of the best FF cars you can drive in the game, even shaming some FR sports cars in the process; I genuinely think the R53 Cooper S is a better "traditional British recipe made better by foreigners" car than most Mazda Roadsters. As you can probably already guess with my heavy mentions of Mazda cars by this point, I'm a HUGE sucker for Mazdas, and so I hope it comes across how high a praise I mean it to be when I say I would rather a R53 Cooper S over most Roadsters. The supercharger of the Cooper S gives the car some real personality where the Roadster has none. Both cars heavily emphasise weight transfer and momentum driving, but the stiffer FF car won't kill you if you muck something up, whereas the softer FR car wouldn't hesitate to snap on you if you take liberties too far with it. In essence, I think a Roadster is more of a dance partner you have to respect, and a Mini is more of a toy you can just keep ragging on endlessly, and I don't care what it implies about me as a person that I prefer the toy over the dance partner. Short of the Japan–exclusive NR-A grade, a Roadster has never given me that serious liberating track toy feel before, and it'd need some serious bloat from a 2.0L engine just to share a track with this not–even–a–JCW Cooper.
Hell, I love it so much, it
just might get my Car of the Year vote in a year where we tested the
ND Roadster,
S-FR, and
R34 GT-R.