Mini people are a cult.
It’s a harmless bunch, of course — they mostly just drive about in packs before milling in circles like extras from I Am Legend, tucked in the corners of grocers’ parking lots and closed coffee stops. They chatter harmlessly about timing chains, delight over wheelbases, and lament their earlier cars’ failed transmissions.
They also, it turns out, share a Borg-like voracity for inclusion — and locally, even a beguiling, charismatic leader.
As shoppers, Mini people are a unique bloc. Not always ‘car people’ in the traditional sense, many fans are drawn to their cars for a love of the twee motors’ charming design and touted wheeling delight. As drivers, many of those present seem more drawn to the communal satisfaction of sharing in the activity of driving than with the sort of high-revving sprints typical of some other drivers’ groups.
Devotion to the brand can run as deeply as it does uniquely. Mini’s is the only booth at the Canadian International Auto Show co-staffed by volunteer brand ambassadors from local clubs, who prosthelytize to the curious about the thrills and community that they’ve found through their choice of car. Anecdotal brand loyalty seems strong, some owners reporting being on their seventh — even eighth — cars, with no intention of looking elsewhere anytime soon.
Between the niche compact’s narrow appeal to brand conquests and loyalists’ indifference to cross-shopping, Mini reviews draw very little web traffic — and thus limited editorial interest. Spurred by Toronto Mini Club members’ genuine earnestness and enthusiasm, however, the Southern Ontario Mini Club’s ‘Rattler’ season-closer seemed the event to scratch my itch for a fall farewell drive toward Gravenhurst.
Pointed north before Sunday’s dawn, I hopped in a borrowed 2023 Mini 3-door John Cooper Works to join a meeting of southern participants convoying north to the Rattler’s start point outside Orillia. Driving’s Clayton Seams recently reviewed this very car, coming away enamoured with its charm and engaging drive. Though we differ on some points — I find that the squishy shift feels more commuter than sporting and would sacrilegiously choose the snappy automatic over this six-speed manual — we fundamentally agree on the distinct joyfulness of the JCW’s style, drive, and street presence.
Assembling in Vaughan for our morning convoy, my Cooper filed in among local compatriots. Minis spanning two decades of production lined up around Auto Park Circle as I wandered, surveying bumper stickers and wondering who this ‘Xiek’ was that so many referenced.
With doors unlocked and keys left on dashboards, a trusting and comfortable crowd formed up for a brief drivers’ meeting before hitting Highway 400 in a stream 45-strong.
Though an admittedly silly way to proceed, a tandem convoy is a fun way to travel. Riding the scenic undulations of our northbound route, the sprawling sight of Minis in either direction imparts a sense of inclusion. It’s an immersive feeling, and even before getting into start-point conversations, it established a warm sense of small things united to become something biggerless small.
Noses pressed to so many passenger windows, highway onlookers exhibited amused bemusement as we poured north. The occasional Mini would break formation for its driver’s own survey of the spectacle around them, but the Cooper river’s overall flow would not fork for the entire 116-km transit to Webers on Highway 11.
Pooling at the iconic cottage-country burger stop, the true scale of this Sunday-morning gathering became apparent. The deluge continued, filling the lot with a record 86 cars of each body style and colour. Cooper, Clubman, Countryman, Roadster, Paceman — even a classic Rover — everything represented, and in every state of preservation. From a pristine R53 shunting in supercharged glory, an original R50 with colour-matched structural duct tape, a new JCW in the same deep green as mine, all brought the same unpretentious enthusiasm for the day’s route through the autumnal vibrance of Muskoka.
“It’s the real-live man, not the cutout!”
At the centre of it all, a charismatic leader soon emerged. ‘Xiek’ (pronounced Zeek) is the founder of the Southern Ontario Mini Club and a Mini community fixture. He’s also one of the first men I’ve kissed within so few minutes of meeting.
Though not previously a ‘car person’, Xiek bought his first Mini more than a decade ago and dove headfirst into its culture. Between excitement for The Italian Job (2003) and vigorous community immersion, Xiek’s enthusiasm quickly drew him as far as North Carolina for events such as ‘Minis on the Dragon’, an event which he now helps to organize.
Today’s Rattler is something of a spiritual sibling to that rally, closing out Ontario’s fall driving season with members from the SOMC’s many chapters. And where Xiek sometimes attends distant events by FedExed cardboard-cutout proxy, Rattler participants drove their real selves from as far as Sudbury, North Bay, and New York to congregate for their meander toward Muskoka Brewery.
The day of the rally, I pieced the man together before we’d even been introduced. Surveying the field, I’d caught stickers reading, “I met Xiek;” “I kissed Xiek;” “I went gay for Xiek.” That’s right-swipe energy if I ever sensed some.
When I was eventually brought his way by Toronto Mini Club VP Evan Ezewski, the conversation flowed easily.
“It’s the only car that comes standard with friends,” Evan told me.
“Yeah — really weird ones,” Xiek clarified.
Eventually I got to the more pressing point:
“So how does one get in on the sticker action?”
“By kissing Xiek on the cheek.”
I turned from Evan to Xiek.
“May I?”
“Up to you.”
Xiek is a tall man whose swirling lore and magnetic joviality raise him higher still. I leaned in, stretching to the points of my toes with precarious balance.
Hmm. Bristlier than I’m used to, but I suppose I’ve never been that close to a bear before.
Small cars in growing numbers
More than just the fun of kissing one stranger, club events like the Rattler are a highlight for a massive enthusiast community. Between the cars’ literal cult following and the local community’s playful cult-of-Xiek, so many dozens of people left before dawn to reach this event, share stories, and catch up with friends from other chapters. Participants spoke of months of messages looking forward to the Rattler; others displayed stickers earned on past events and now displayed on their cars’ rear windows.
Some of those individual chapters are themselves incredibly active, as I recall firsthand from my tag-along participation in a past life. Participation is unusually balanced for the motoring scene, with an even gender split and a conspicuous absence of car man nonsense.
With all of this energy has come significant growth.
Once granted a reserved lot at the Bala Cranberry Festival, the Rattler’s success has grown it beyond the capacity of many venues. Fortunately for all involved, that growth is being channeled positively. Adapting the event to its growth has ensured continued smiles, and prize raffles have raised thousands of dollars for local food banks.
Parting ways only as the sun began to set, it’s clear that this little community’s excitement is strong for the driving season ahead.
Cult or not, I’m not too worried. I’m pretty sure they’re harmless.
https://smartcdn.gprod.postmedia.digital/driving/wp-content/uploads/2022/10/2210-Mini-Rally-ETA_4298.jpg?w="576&crop=1&strip=all&quality=90 2x" height="1280" loading="lazy" src="https://smartcdn.gprod.postmedia.digital/driving/wp-content/uploads/2022/10/2210-Mini-Rally-ETA_4298.jpg?w=288&crop=1&strip=all&quality=90" width="1920"/>
Post a Comment