Hannah's 1999 Rover Mini 1.3i

The rain pours down on me and my fellow commuters as we thread our way over the Tyne Bridge, around the Central Motorway, and onto the Coast Road, the Mini's fan heater is fighting a loosing battle to keep even the windscreen clear, let along the side window. The chances of successful de-misting are worsened by the water pouring in through the poorly fitting door seals. By the time the sound of the usual drive-time dross coming from the rear mounted speakers has reached my ears any quality has been subdued. I pull up at another set of red lights behind a nearly new Fiat 500. To their right is a BMW Mini. As I wipe the side window for the hundredth time I spot a few year old VW Beetle Cabriolet in the wing mirror. All three stand at least a foot taller than me and look decidedly big compared to my ride, still redefining what small means over fifty years after it was launched.

The occupants of these retro-mobiles are probably sitting warn and cosy in their well heated, sound deadened, commuter friendly environments. Their seats adjustment a paragon of ergonomics, stereo sound - the last word in fidelity, engine and gearbox noise a muted hum as they cruise away from the now green light. Meanwhile, my right ankle is starting to hurt due to the chronic lack of seat travel, the seat back at a jaunty angle to keep my head from bumping into the roof, which also leaves the airbag equipped steering wheel pointing oddly roof-wards. As I gingerly lift the clutch pedal and try to keep up with that nippy 500 without spinning the skinny front tyres too much, that typical A Series whining noise pours into the cabin and all the discomfort fades away. Its hard not to look down on these interlopers with distain, figuratively speaking at least.

If like me, you are in your thirties then you probably have at least one memory of riding crammed three abreast into the back of a tatty old Mini that belonged to a friend or family member, and yet still we remember them with such fondness and longing. Its a lovely spec this car, the metallic green paint is more thorn than british racing green, the 12” alloy wheels are variation on an 80's pepper-pot style with smaller wheel arches than the run-out spec Cooper model had over their fat 13” wheels. Even with black plastic trim replacing many of the old chrome items on the outside and the twee looking wooded dash and cream leather and tweed seats, this car still retains so much more of that old charm than the modern recreations ever will.

This car was purchased new by Hannah's parents as a runaround for her Mum from their local dealer. The Livock & Edwards dealer sticker and tax disc holder still adorn the front and rear screen some 36000 miles later. The low mileage and light interior wear are a testament to the love and affection this car has received over the years. The four digit Liverpool licence plate (that had adorned the car until recently was on Hannah's Granny's Morris Minor convertible) just added to the old skool charm. Its no pristine show pony though, various trips to Liverpool Football Club and the Tynemouth salt air have taken their invertible toll. The former leaving unexplained dents in the roof, the latter leaving rust that has overcome the drivers side A panel, the panels beneath both headlamps, and is showing its presence in one or two other places. Minor repairs have been carried out on both sills, and the door skins have been replaced (hence the poor fitting door seals).

When Hannah first acquired Doris from her mother back in 2008 it could regularly be seen parked on Front Street or pootling around the local area with Han and her two eldest kids onboard. Local Mini club members were pleased to see a classic Mini with child seats in the back. The addition of another bundle of joy made the four seater Mini slightly less practical as family transport and after a few years of lighter use it seems the old girl may have to move on to pastures new before too much longer.

Which is a crying shame, coz I just love going out for a spin in this little thing. Flawed though it is, the sense of fun and connection with what the car is doing as you bounce and crash your way along a bumpy twisty B road is brilliant. I love the way the steering lightens and communicates as you get back onto the throttle at the entrance to a corner, confident of the grip levels as you power through the apex and ring out the last few hundred RPM before snatching another gear to propel you down the road. What the 1275cc multipoint injection engine and four speed box lack in power and refinement they more that make up for in eagerness, noise, and entertainment. It's not quick by any modern standards, most base model Supermini's would match or out pace it with ease, but the way it goes is just enchanting.

By modern standards the classic Mini is cramped, poorly equipped, noisy, impractical, and somewhat unsafe for most users to tolerate as their sole daily transport. Some may also question the validity of these later examples claim to being a true classic, pointing to the earlier examples for the true experience. But with prices of even the base model early cars starting to rise to match those of the always popular Coopers, I think it unfair to view these later cars so harshly, especially as they will provide most of the charm with less of the headaches that the early cars will present.

I wish I had the money to buy and run it as my second car. Not my only car mind. I'd get bored of the fiddly door lock, banging my head on the door frame every time I get, the achy right ankle after half an hours driving, the lack of heat, ventilation, and whether proofing, not being able to cruise down the motorway in any comfort, or transport anything bigger than about three foot square, all too often for daily use. But if you just need to pop to the shops, nip to a mates house, or just go for a good old fashions blast, then its just great. I think I can get away with one last drive before I drop the keys back, now where did I put that Italian Job soundtrack.

Thanks to Hannah for the loan of her car.

ⓒ Dan Ewing 2012

My 1996 Saab 900 SE Turbo

The barrier rises and I wind my along the exit ramp of the Newcastle Central Station Long Stay Car Park on a chilly June evening. As I edge out of the side road into the traffic on Neville Street, I overhear a passing reveller comment to his companions “I've always wanted one of those”. “Me too” I smile to myself as I pick my way through the madness that is Newcastle Upon Tyne city centre on a lively Saturday night. Unlike most all of the cars I hope to write about in the future, I actually own this one and have done since May 2010. I needed a car that I could use to get around in and take the odd long journey to visit family. This 3 door Saab had a big boot, was comfortable, went like stink thanks to its 185bhp engine, and at £900 with some semblance of a service history, it seemed to be quite a bargain.

The new gen 900 inherits some quirky good looks from the classic Saab 900. The upsweep of the rear pillars, the steep angle of the front screen, the way the indicators cut into the wings, the cliff face dash, and the slim front seats with the wrap around headrest all make for an unique looking car. The overall look is quite discrete, thanks in part to the black paint and family hatch shape. The lack of attention this car normally gets took a little getting use to after previously having two rather conspicuous cars (a Peugeot 205 GTi and a Porsche 944 Lux), although I'm quite happy to slip home unnoticed after a long days work.

Picking my way through the jostling taxis and their drunken clients the steering is never very communicative but it normally seems accurate enough and is reasonably well weighted. Cruising down the A1058 the slight lack of body control can be felt over the bigger undulations. The drivers seat is a very comfortable place to be, that slab-faced centre console is well organised with large buttoned that are easy to identify and use. The dials and buttons are all labelled with a simple font that glows green at night, with the dash gauge needles and centre console display panels glowing in a gentle orange. Even though the steering wheel only adjusts for reach, a good driving position can be found, and the prospect of driving for hours is un-daunting.

There are some unusual features in amongst all the gear, some clever, some plain odd. The cleverer ones include a single button press that de-mists the whole car including the rear screen, and a stereo that turns itself up and down as the road noise varies. Not very special in 2012 but quite good for 900 quid. The odd ones include the infamous 'Black Panel' button that kills all interior illumination except for the speedo and any warning notifications. Useful as you're approach the Arctic Circle maybe, but not so much on the Billy Mill Roundabout. Also, some of the on-board computer functions are a little weird like the alarm clock (in a car?), or the one that allows you to enter a mileage (the distance to your destination say) and your hoped for average speed, and it will calculate an estimated arrival time for you, somewhat outdated in this age of Sat Nav.

Away from late night commuter duties, out on a quiet B road, a few more weaknesses start to show themselves. The heavy nose makes the front end wash out in corners a little earlier than you'd expect. Keeping your foot in or lifting off both seem to result in the same amount of tail movement. Hard acceleration reveals a tendency to spin up the front wheels. The fact that these antics are worse in the wet and can be set off by the slightest change in road surface make me wonder how much the cheap budget tyres are to blame. Maybe better tyres would help improve things, but basically the new gen 900 was always a little flawed.

Not that I don't enjoy threading this car along the Beehive. As the revs reach 3000 RPM the turbo spools up and suddenly its time to brake for that corner which has suddenly gotten really close. Slow down a little more than seems reasonable for that corner and the car turns into the apex well enough, at which point you can gently feed in the power, the turbo spooling back up and the whole shebang starts again. The slight lack of body control doesn't hinder too much and the comfortable ride helps on bumpy road surfaces. You might have to constantly adjust your line the torque steer and manage the throttle inputs carefully, but rapid cross country progress is there for the taking.

A contemporary BMW 318iS Coupe might be a dynamic masterpiece in comparison, but it wouldn't have the space or pace of my Svart. And I'd probably have to pay at least twice as much for a 328i Touring that would match it for practically and performance. Some cars leave you feeling that you could get more out of them, if you just had a little more skill, a little more knowledge, but this Saab isn't one of them. There's something oddly comforting about running a car that isn't perfect, that isn't a mechanical tour de force. It should feel like a bad thing, but its doesn't, you end up feeling like you and the car can work together around your combined weaknesses to achieve results that you can feel some ownership in. So my car is flawed, quirky and practical, not perfect, but not hopeless – a bit like me then.

ⓒ Dan Ewing 2012