Through circumstances partially beyond my control, I ended up driving my sister-in-law’s MINI Cooper home from Spokane, Washington. It’s about a 240 mile drive with two mountain passes. The pass was snowy and cold, but the little car handled pretty well. It probably would have done better with winter tires.
It was fun to drive. The car was a convertible with a lot of power in a very light frame. It is light blue.
The dirt from the road plastered the windshield, and just my luck, the vehicle was out of windshield washer fluid. I ended up stopping every 25 miles or so to clean my windshield. Which brings me to why I’ll never ever in a million years own a MINI Cooper: People smile at you.
The Fiat gets curious glances. The Maxima and Suzuki Reno get ignored. The truck gets a few glances. A nice sports car gets envy and fist pumps. A MINI, though, gets smiles. From everyone! Little old ladies see you at the gas station, and they smile at you. Truck drivers walk by, and they smile at you. Little kids point and smile. It’s horrible.
The last thing I want is to be going around spreading cheer. It’s a car for Pete’s sake. A powerful one at that! I really need a more intimidating vehicle.