It is a welcome arrival in just about any parking lot, thanks to its somewhat whimsical demeanor. It is also a blast to drive, thanks to a stiff chassis and wheel-at-every-corner architecture. The MINI Cooper has been a popular choice for many seeking some compact wheels, so the BMW-owned concern decided to build more of a good thing by creating a larger version (sort of a wagonette, if you will) called the Clubman. And in typical MINI fashion, they decided to make it a tad unique.
Instead of a rear hatch, the Clubman has what they like to call “Split Rear Barn Doors” which pop open as if by magic when you grab the handle thanks to some very well-charged struts. But wait: there’s more. On the passenger side, just behind the passenger door is one of those weird-ass suicide doors the pivots from the rear like Ford and Chevy extended cab pickups (this time its called it a Clubdoor), and makes it easier to climb into the rear seating area. There’s actually decent room back there for a couple of adults, with about the same legroom as you get up front.
In typical MINI fashion this thing is no powerhouse with the standard normally-aspirated Four, but a Turbo version (or Tubbo, as they say in the South) comes in the “S” version. Handling is on a par with the standard MINI despite three more inches of wheelbase, which is to say exemplary. Also on a par with the regular sedan is a speedometer the size of a trash can lid, and some truly idiotic controls especially those that navigate the sound system. But, you get used to the latter and it just adds to the Clubman’s eccentric, genuine charm.

The year was. . . actually I don’t remember what year it was. But if memory serves the car was a Mercedes SLK and it was my first exposure to the whole hardtop convertible concept, and while I didn’t wet myself in amazement (which I usually do for totally wild-ass technical innovations), I was really impressed. Shortly after this I landed a Lexus SC, and it was yet another expression of a really sound four-seasons idea. You see, convertibles and the Northern Climes have issues, mainly because it sucks to have to park your excellent drop-top machine when there’s a lot of cold, snow, sleet, and winterage in your life. Now even VW with their clever EOS has entered the fray, and I have to say it’s all good. Seriously. I’ve yet to roll in any of theses things that, while far from perfect, still doesn’t get the top-down-inna-heat, steel-or’-head-when-it’s-all-’bout-sleet thing down really well.
So, here we have a 2011 (no, really. The OEM’s have a really weird-ass calendar) Volvo C70. The top splits into pieces and flies into the trunk, fortunately only when you tell it to via a switch. It’s a pretty great machine overall, with a punchy, turbocharged Inline Five that scoots along nicely and has a very solid chassis (except for the windshield pillar which shakes way too much over rough substrate). It’s a wild bit of engineering to watch the top rebuild itself (including the headliner) when it slides back into place in way less than a minute. It’s a true all-season two-doh, a bitchin’ Swede that seats foh, and moves your booty in the great out-doh. That’s a poem, bitches. Deal wif it.