King's Road hails return of the Mini

Charlotte Edwardes took the new Mini on a test to see whether it will be as well loved as its predecessor. She didn't have to wait to get her answer

THE MANUFACTURERS of the new Mini are struggling to cope with an unexpected surge of orders after the car went on sale yesterday.

BMW, which retained the Mini when it sold Rover last year, had taken 3,000 orders from 148 dealerships by 10am yesterday. The company promised delivery of the cars from its Oxford factory over the next few weeks.

The true extent of the new car's appeal was made clear on the streets of London on Friday when The Sunday Telegraph was given an exclusive test drive of a Mini Cooper. Wherever it went, traffic came to a standstill, passers-by stopped to stare and the more forward admirers demanded a look inside.

The question everyone wanted to answer for themselves was: would the car match its predecessor for the style, economy, practicality and pizzazz that made the Sir Alec Issigonis original of 1959 the emblem of all that was "swinging" in the 1960s?

Even before I had pulled away from the kerb, a white van slowed beside the car. The passenger craned to get a good view. "Look at it!" he exclaimed to his friend. "That is one pukka car." It was to be the day's theme. As we drove around London, passers-by would stop in their tracks, point and mouth the words: "Look, it's the new Mini Cooper." At traffic lights, taxi drivers shouted: "What's it like to drive? It looks great."

In Liverpool Street, hurrying City workers paused to take it in. Tom Johnson, 32, who works for a bank, asked: "Is it a good car to show off in?" He concluded that it must be after inspecting the wheels. "They are massive: double the size of the old Mini's wheels." He added: "I don't even mind that it's made by the Germans; it means it's got a BMW engine."

A man in a pinstripe suit carrying a black brolly strolled over. "What a splendid car," he remarked. "I'm so glad they've brought it back." Others were eager to explain the car's enduring appeal. "It's the British car, even if it is made by Germans now," said Jim Manners, 40, a management consultant. "At one time, everyone had a Mini as their first car. People love it out of nostalgia."

A lorry driver ambled over and tapped on the window. "I had one of these before you were even born," he said with a toothless grin. "One year, I toured Scotland for two weeks and the petrol cost only £10. Is it as economic as that?"

In an effort to make the car affordable, BMW is offering customers the special deal of five years' servicing for an initial fee of £100. The basic model today costs £10,300 and the Mini Cooper £11,600; that compares with price tags of £497 and £537 in 1959.

Phil, a chauffeur for the Royal Mail, was particularly enthusiastic. He poked about the back seat and boot - which he felt lacked space - tried the stereo, fiddled with the electric windows and checked the seat adjustors for "ease of movement'. After half an hour, he decided that the car would be a triumph. "I know about these things," he said.

The real test, however, was taking the Mini to the parade ground of its 1960s forebears: the King's Road in Chelsea. There, cars slowed and people leaned out to ask how it handled, how much horsepower it had and how much it cost. A vanful of workmen stopped to let out cheers and wolf whistles.

At one point, there were seven men circling the car and giving running commentaries. Amid all this enthusiasm, there was only one dissenter: "I don't like it as much as the old one," said Eric Forbes, 55, who has owned three Minis in his life. He listed the faults: "It's too bulky and modern. The interior looks plastic, and why have they mounted the rev counter in such a prominent place over the steering wheel? It's too flash. The speedometer is too big; it looks like a kitchen clock." He added: "It will undoubtedly sell but it won't define an era like the original did."