MIGHTY MOUSE

THERE ARE only a handful of cars which can relay the precise difference between heads and tails as they run over a coin. The Mini JCW GP does not only happily oblige, it even hammers through the exact denomination and the year that particular piece of money was minted.

Although anybody can install dampers filled with lead and springs that barely spring, the BMW subdivision will in addition suggest diehards fit ambidextrous Hankook semislicks named Ventus TD, for Track Day. The 225/35 R18 tyres, marked by an artsy swoosh pattern, are allegedly made of rubber, but could also very well be Edwardian liquorice stored in the open since the King passed away in 1972.

If suppleness is a prerequisite for dynamic well-being, the absence thereof might explain why our Anglo-German bat mobile lives in the twilight zone between trick and treat. Just leaf through the bible of absolute automotive no-gos, and the vices are all there in abundance: steering fight, torque steer, waywardness at any speed, marginal ride comfort, man eventually succumbing to machine. But you know what? We wouldn’t have it any other way. Because it is simply impossible not get a kick out of this doped Mini in Voldemort livery. A rather rough daily driver, the $63,900 limited-edition model is headed