All hail the great British Mini: 50 this year, a design classic, a film star, the transport of the Beatles — each had his own at one time or another — and so profoundly evocative of the Sixties that it might as well be the opening chord of A Hard Day’s Night on wheels.
And how wonderful, too, that we don’t have to drive them any more. Much was forgiven this car because of that timelessly cute shape and because Twiggy happened to hang out in one.
There was the matter of its size, for starters. How many elephants can you fit in a Mini? None, that’s the honest answer, whatever the joke books may have claimed.
The Mini offered even average-sized owners the joy of driving with their knees in their eyes. Its sole concession to luxury was a rear ashtray. The interior door handle on some of the earlier models was a short stretch of clothes line.
You could bolt a radio to the parcel shelf, but you would rarely hear it above the panicked scream of the engine, forcing along those tiny 10in wheels.
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Sir Alec Issigonis, its designer, didn’t approve of music in cars anyway. He thought that drivers should concentrate on driving and he may have had a point.
Still, it was loved like no other car. And the love is still out there, albeit for a very different kind of vehicle.
They say you can’t buy a history like the Mini’s — but fortunately for BMW, it turns out that you can. They took on the brand in 2000 and set about cleverly and successfully revamping it — hence today’s plumper, better-upholstered, quietly running town cars, the official transport of estate agents everywhere (candy-striped shirt comes as standard).
It was also Sir Alec who came up with the well-thumbed saying that a camel is a horse designed by committee. Well, a BMW Mini is an Issigonis Mini designed by a committee.
Of course, these German-made luxury products can’t touch the unique vision of the original. But I know which one I’d rather drive.