Mini Cooper vs Toyota Prius C

What's the difference?

It’s reassuring to realise that the British-built Mini’s German masters have not stood still over the past eight years.

This second facelift of the third-generation Cooper three-door hatch has freshened up the appearance on the outside, improved the look inside and provided a refined yet dynamic driving experience that fits in with the British brand’s reputation.

But the real shock is how reasonably priced the Classic Plus package is, especially when you consider that the Mini provides a truly unique proposition that’s backed by reassuringly high-quality BMW engineering.

A Cooper offering decent value-for-money? In 20 years, that’s certainly a first worth celebrating.   

It's as if the the future is firmly rooted in the past at Toyota. The Prius is still undoubtedly clever, frugal and easy to drive, but it is feeling so old in places that the bad had begun to weigh on the good. If you're a tech-head or have a right foot crafted from lead, then there's nothing to see here. But if the thought of saving money at the bowser sets your heart aflutter, then step right this way.

Yes, even after all these years. After all, BMW’s Mini has been more successful commercially than BMC’s original ever managed, primarily due to a massive uptake in the United States and China.

You can see why. The pert bug-eyed looks, frameless doors, chunky cabin, circular interior themes and, of course, the reputation put it in a unique place amongst today’s far more homogenised small car alternatives.

Interestingly, the most recent update in early 2021 has resulted in a sleek and more-focused look that moves away from the over-the-top caricature of previous iterations, though the black band around the nose cone might take some getting used to. Even the OTT Union Jack tail-light LEDs seem toned down.

And, like we said, there’s nothing like it on the market anymore. Once upon a time, close (if not exactly direct) opponents included the Alfa Romeo Mito, Audi A3 three-door, Honda CR-Z, Hyundai Veloster, Peugeot 208 GTi, Volkswagen Beetle… but they’re all gone.

The good news is that it doesn't look quite so quirky as the full-size Prius. The not-as-good news is that it's still no beauty-contest winner. Not helping matters was the fact our test vehicle was painted in a retina-burning yellow (they call it Hornet Yellow, and it's new for 2018) that looked almost nuclear.

Viewed front on, the blacked-out section of grille and bumper gives the littlest Prius a vaguely manta ray-shaped front-end, while the headlights climb both upwards and back into the body, lending a sense of sportiness to this very unsporty hybrid. From the back, the chunky bumper, vertical taillights and rear windscreen spoiler all add a little attitude to the design.

Inside, you'll find a small but premium-in-places space, with a gloss-black stereo surround that angles the main controls toward the driver, while the digital driver's binnacle is pushed toward the centre of the car, displaying speed, fuel and other key info above the stereo, rather than in front of the steering wheel.

From the moment you open the light yet solid front door, it’s obvious that the Mini is a different type of small car.

The frameless doors give it a hardtop feel, though it’s a shame the necessary thick B-pillar doesn’t allow for the rear windows to find down for a truly ‘60s American hardtop-style open side experience.

The Classic Plus’ standard front seats are a highlight. Superbly supportive and with extensive adjustment permutations so even taller and heftier folk can find the right position, they help create a snug yet not cramped environment, with a low, focused driving position that’s easy to get comfy behind thanks to endless column and seat adjustability. One does peer over that bulky dashtop though.

The 5.0-inch black-panel instrumentation redesign does much to reduce the old Mini tweeness inside, with motorcycle-style digitised analogue-look dials and fresh new graphics and functionality (with new ‘favourites’ shortcuts added) for the rectangular centre multimedia screen. Based on BMW’s excellent iDrive system, it’s all easy and intuitive to operate.

However, that dash is looking old and messy now, with its small letter-box screen and messy buttons, though the toggle switchgear is pleasant to operate and adds to the Mini’s sense of occasion too. The kerbside mirror won’t automatically dip in reverse, and Android Auto users aren’t accommodated like Apple CarPlay users are.

Still, storage is sufficient for most peoples’ needs as long as the things they need put away aren’t too large, backed up by a foldable armrest-cum-cubby and handy pair of big cupholders ahead of the gear lever – which is an ex-BMW design that takes a minute to get used to but works just fine.

For a three-door four-seater coupe, practicality is better than you might imagine, aided by good all-round vision and thoughtful packaging.

Access to the rear is obviously not going to be the Hatch’s easiest party trick, but a single-action lift-up latch that slides and automatically returns the front seat back to the original spot helps enormously. It’s not too much of a struggle sliding between seat and pillar as well.

Once sat out back, you’ll find a firm but inviting bench and backrest (for two), a pair of cupholders and map pockets, a trio of cupholders as well as elbow rests incorporated into the side panels. All double up as receptacles for odds and ends. Lots of glass and those upright pillars impart a surprisingly spacious feel.

Speaking of back-seat room, because it’s only a two-seater configuration, there’s a welcome amount of acreage for elbows, shoulders and bottoms, while legroom isn’t too bad for a 178cm adult sat behind themselves. There’s nothing cramped or oppressive in the Classic Plus we’re in, save perhaps for the endless black trim.

However, betraying the F56 Cooper’s age, while the front centre-armrest sited smartphone charger is accessible to rear-seat occupants, there are no USB ports of any variety or overhead lighting in this sunroof-equipped example. Nor will you find a folding centre armrest or overhead grab handles. In fact, the latter is only provided for the front-seat passenger.

Also, keep in mind that passengers cannot crack a window back there. 

Further back, a can of goo in lieu of a spare wheel means the boot floor is deeper than you might imagine, with a small compartment below the second floor for added hidden storage. Beyond that, it’s an F56 Mini, so a 211L capacity and a pair of 60:40-folding backrests into the cabin as your lot luggage-capacity wise.

If you want practicality Mini offers the F55 5DR Hatch (278L) or our favourite of the lot, the lovely Clubman with 360L. Or if you don’t mind your Mini looking like a gargoyle, the Countryman extends that again to between 405L and 450L depending on rear-seat position.

Not very. This is a Yaris-based city car, let's not forget.

That said, it never feels cramped up front, with enough shoulder and headroom to ensure you feel separated from your fellow passengers, where you'll also find two cupholders, and an infuriating USB connection housed in the touchscreen - so your cord dangles from the dash when connected.

Climb into the back, and you'll find yourself in a pretty snug space. Sitting behind my own (5ft-8inch) driving position, it's only the scalloped back of the driver's seat that affords me any clear air between my knees and the seat in front, and the space behind my head and the roof lining is minuscule, too. But again, we're talking city car space here, so you can't expect to lounge about back there.

The ambience in the backseat leaves a little to be desired, though. The door trim pushes into the passenger space, and the plastics used in the rear are rock hard. There's a single cupholder to share, and a seat-back pocket on the rear of the passenger seat, but that's it; there's no vents, USB or power sources. There's no bottle-room in the rear doors, either.

An easy-access boot space will swallow 260 litres with the 60:40 rear seats in place. And there are two ISOFIX attachment points, one in each window seat in the back.

We've just spent a week behind the wheel of the Prius c i-Tech; the top model in the two-variant range, sitting above a cheaper model known simply as the Prius c.

At $26,540, it ain't cheap for a city car (and it's $4k more than the most-expensive Yaris on which it is based; more worryingly, it's only $1500 cheaper than an Audi A1), and the standard features list is more a novella than War and Peace.

Outside, you'll find 15-inch alloy wheels, remote unlocking, LED headlights and front fog lamps, while inside you'll leather-look seats (they're actually vinyl), sat-nav and climate-control.

Tech is covered by an  (old-school feeling) 6.1-inch touchscreen that pairs with a six-speaker stereo, but there's no Apple CarPlay or Android Auto.

One of the stronger petrol engine families of the last decade is BMW’s B-series modular in-line units, in B38 1.2-litre and 1.5-litre three-cylinder, B48 2.0-litre four-cylinder and B58 3.0-litre six-cylinder formats.

The Cooper uses the B38A15M1, meaning a 1499cc 1.5-litre three-pot turbo featuring an aluminium block and head, a twin-scroll turbocharger, direct injection, variable valve lift (Valvetronic) and variable valve timing (Double VANOS).

It pumps 100kW of power at a peaky 6500rpm and 220Nm of torque from just 1480rpm to 4100rpm ­– enough for a 0-100km/h dash time of 8.2 seconds on the way to a 210km/h top speed.

Mounted transversely, it drives the front wheels via a seven-speed dual-clutch transmission (DCT) dubbed Steptronic in Mini-speak – a switch from earlier F56 examples from a few years back that used a six-speed torque-converter auto. The floor shifter has the typically-BMW back for up/forward for down shift pattern. For paddle shifters you need to step up to the Cooper S with the B48 2.0-litre engine.

The Mini’s UKL1 platform (Untere Klasse, German for ‘lower class’) modular architecture is spread between the F55 (5DR), F56 (3DR) and F57 (Convertible) models, and employs MacPherson-style struts up front and a multi-link rear end. A longer version of this also underpins the larger Mini Clubman and Countryman as well as BMW’s 1 Series, 2 Series (not coupe and convertible), X1 and X2.

Under that little hood lives a 1.5-litre, four-cylinder petrol engine good for 54kW, which pairs with a 45kW electric motor. Toyota lists combined outputs at 74kW at 4800rpm and 111Nm at 4000rpm.

That hybrid setup partners with a CVT automatic, pumping power to the front wheels.

Running on 95 RON premium unleaded petrol, our Cooper managed a worthy 7.1L/100km in a fairly demanding mix of heavy urban commuting traffic and higher-speed performance testing. The trip computer was showing high-6s, so it wasn’t far off the truth.

The official figure should average out at 5.6L/100km, for a carbon dioxide emissions rating of 128 grams per kilometre. With a 44L fuel tank, the potential range-average is 785km.

If that last section didn't impress, this one surely will. The little Prius c will sip a claimed 3.9L/100km on the combined cycle.

That's very low, and the fact it accepts cheaper 91RON fuel makes it a very affordable car to run. Except... the onboard computers revealed a slightly less-impressive 5.1L/100km after my time with the car.

Emissions are a claimed 90g/km of CO2, which is very good.

In a word, feisty.

Though only a three-pot turbo, the charming B38 1.5-litre engine is one of the best of the breed, offering a broad performance spectrum that allows it to rev cleanly and pull strongly all the way to the 7000rpm limit.

Additionally, the auto shuffles between its seven forward ratios seamlessly, for super-smooth progress.

However, around town, there is the usual momentary DCT hesitation from standstill, which can be quite frustrating if you’re in a hurry. Once that and the turbo wakes up, the Cooper will surge ahead with impressive determination, but instantaneous acceleration isn’t in this Mini’s repertoire. The previous, old six-speed torque-converter auto was far more immediate to throttle inputs.  

Note that selecting Sport in the drive mode kicks things along a little more urgently. As such, and at this price point, we’d like to see a pair of paddle shifters to add to that experience, especially now as there’s no manual gearbox on offer. The 'Green' eco mode, on the other hand, throttles things back to a slightly more leisurely pace to conserve fuel.

Minis are renowned for their direct steering and sharp handling, and the Cooper doesn’t disappoint.

At parking speeds, there’s heaps of electric assistance to make manoeuvring about easy – and don’t forget about the standard park assist system to lend a helping hand here – while out on the open road, the flat, precise and confident cornering imparts a wonderful sense of security and connection with the road that, for keener driver, is worth the price of entry alone.

Never nervous, yet always alive in your hands. Assisted by grippy Goodyear Eagle 205/45R17 rubber, you feel the expensive engineering going on underneath to keep everything in order and precisely where the driver needs the car to be. Even when caned along.

But… you also feel the at-times firm ride over the ragged urban streetscapes that Coopers will undoubtedly traverse most days, though it isn’t as abrupt or choppy as in previous iterations with this-sized wheel/tyre package. Plus, coarse bitumen surfaces make for a fair amount of road noise intrusion at times.

That said, if your regular commute takes in fresh, smooth roads, then the Mini shines.

If all this sounds awfully familiar, then keep in mind that the Cooper is very much a baby BMW in behaviour as well as demeanour.

In much the same way that you don't buy an exotic performance car for its ability to run to the shops, you're unlikely to be buying the Prius for its ability to set your pulse racing.

But happily, it doesn't feel wobbly or disconnected, either. It's aided by being such a small package, and when you're not wafting silently about in electric mode, and you've coaxed that little petrol engine into life, it serves up more than enough poke to navigate the city, and even to leave the slow-reactors in your rear-view mirror at traffic lights.

The ride is good, too, feeling connected to the road below without feeling uncomfortable, although the little Prius does tend to track with the corrugations in the road, leaving you to wrestle it back into line. That's a job made easier by light and surprisingly direct steering, which feels tailor-made for the city.

Finally, the leather-look seats are comfortable, even over long distances, the razor-thin A-pillars make forward vision easy and it's a very simple thing to drive and manoeuvre  into parking spaces. And all of those are good things.

Not so good? Well, the entire drive experiences feels a little beige and emotionless, it can get noisy and there are parts of the cabin that feel downright cheap. Worst of all, though, is that for a car that once heralded the future, it's feeling very, very dated.

But there are some amazing quirks attached to driving an (almost) electric car, including the delivery of eco awards for using the least amount of fuel (they were awarded for 2.6, 3.2 and 3.6L/100km over as much as 25km - none of which occurred during my tenure). The hardest thing to get used to was the absolute silence served up in electric mode. I counted four seperate occasions when I walked away from the car with it still turned on.

Every Prius c arrives with seven airbags, along with a reversing camera and... wait, that can't be it, can it? Oh... Forget AEB, lane-departure warning and the like, this future-focused Prius has a safety package firmly rooted in the past.

It was awarded the maximum five-star ANCAP safety rating, but was tested back in 2014.

Like BMW, Mini offers a three-year/unlimited kilometre warranty, which trails Mercedes-Benz’s five years and behind the seven-year unconditional warranty pioneered by Kia. A three-year roadside assistance package is also included.

Additionally, the car tells the owner/driver when it needs servicing, meaning it is condition-based rather than time-based scheduling. In the UK, it is generally recommended every 12 months or 10,000km is a good rule of thumb, just to be safe.

Owners can also purchase a five-year/80,000km service plan to help save money.

Toyota offers a three-year/100,000km warranty, while the batteries are covered for eight years or 160,000km. The car's six-month service intervals might sting a little, though, but with each service capped at $140 for the first three years, even taking two trips to the dealership a year isn't too expensive. Just annoying.