Mini Aceman vs Lamborghini Aventador

What's the difference?

In many ways - range, performance and purchase price, for instance - the Mini Aceman is decent value, somewhat par for the course and would give its logical competition a proper marketplace run. But it’s better than that. The car’s big point of difference is its retro charm and the fact that it’s been tuned to be a fun drive rather than the non-confronting experience some carmakers strive for.

The performance is strong and the handling and steering serve up a bit of entertainment as well as giving the car a particular flavour. Which, as electric drivelines threaten to homogenise cars even further, must count for something.

Yes, some of what you’re paying goes towards that arguably nebulous notion of 'driving-spice' but once you’ve driven it, you’ll probably know what we’re talking about. A new car purchase is always special, so why not make that specialness last a bit longer with a car that will still be an entertainer long after the showroom thrill has worn off.

Meantime, it’s easy to see why Mini has already begun to run-out stocks of the cheaper E model. The SE still manages to play on that cheeky charm, but offers a more mature vehicle into the bargain. Not a bad trick, really.

Note: CarsGuide attended this event as a guest of the manufacturer, with accommodation and meals provided.

The Aventador isn't the best car you can buy for the money and truth be told, it isn't the best Lamborghini, which is a bit tough when you remember the only other car they make at the moment is the V10 Huracan. But it's all about the theatre as much as being a very capable supercar. 

I'm not a Lamborghini fanboy, but I completely get the Aventador. It's a because-we-can car, just like the Murcielago, Diablo and Countach before it. But unlike those cars, it's thoroughly modern and with the upgrades introduced to the S, it's faster, harder and enormously entertaining. 

As the last of a dying breed it delivers on everything a Lamborghini should - amazing looks, nutty price tag and an engine that excites not just driver and passenger but anyone with a heartbeat. It's by far the most charismatic car you can buy, no matter how many zeroes are on the cheque.

Photography by Rhys Vanderside

Though vaguely retro on the outside, the real nostalgia hit comes when you step inside the Aceman.

The huge, round central display that’s been associated with the Mini brand since day one, returns, but this time in 240mm, OLED screen form.

The display is also where you get to choose how the instrumentation and information looks, with configurable display incorporating a total of eight modes that alter the colours, sounds and visuals of the screen. Is it cool? Er, yes, actually.

There’s also the Mini personal assistant at your service to crank up the heat when you’re cold and switch on the air conditioning when you’re not (all voice activated) and the personal assistant can also learn stuff such as knowing particular navigation co-ordinates mean you’re at the entrance to an underground car-park, at which point the car will wind down the driver’s window so you can flash your credit card. If you think about it too hard, that’s going to be more creepy than cool for some of us.

The move to electrification, of course, is environmentally driven, so the Aceman’s ethos leans into that, too. There is, for example, a complete absence of leather or chrome, the alloy wheels contain as much as 70 per cent recycled material and are produced with renewable energy.

The floor mats, floor structure and interior surfaces are made from at least 90 per cent recycled polyester, and Mini claims a 98 per cent reduction in greenhouse gases compared with the same stuff made from leather.

Asking if there's anything interesting about a Lamborghini design is kind of like asking if the sun is warm.

While there are some geese out there in the corners of the internet who think Audi has ruined Lamborghini styling, there is absolutely nothing shy about the Aventador. It's an incredible looking machine and, if I may say so, shouldn't be had in black because you miss a lot of the madder details.

This car is all about the experience.

It might look close to the deck in the photos, but however low you think it is, it's lower. The roofline barely makes it to the bottom of a Mazda CX-5's windows - you need your wits about you in this car because people just don't see you.

It is absolutely spectacular - people stop and point, one chap sprinted an easy 200 metres to take a photo of it in the Sydney CBD. Hello, if you're reading.

Inside is pretty tight indeed. It's amazing to think that a car 4.8 metres long (a Hyundai Santa Fe is 4.7 metres) struggles to contain two people over six feet tall. My six foot two photographer's head left an impression in the headlining. It's a tiny cabin. It's not a bad one though, it even has a cupholder on the rear bulkhead behind the seats.

The centre console is covered in Audi-based switchgear and is all the better for it, even if it is starting to look a bit old (those bits are from a pre-facelift B8 A4). The alloy gearshift paddles are fixed to the column and are brilliant to look at and touch, while the digital dashboard - which changes with the driving mode - is fantastic even if the reversing camera is awful.

Perhaps it’s the packaging designed to play the retro card, but I can’t help feeling the door openings on this car are pretty tight. The rear doors, in particular, seem designed for someone smaller than I, and even once I’m in the news doesn’t really improve.

The Aceman’s rear pew seems tight for both foot and legroom and should you have an adult in the back seat, they’re only going to fit by having somebody smaller in the front seats. The chances of a six-footer (183cm) sitting behind a driver of similar stature are pretty slim (over a distance, anyway).

This is all to do with Mini keeping the overall length of the car to just over four metres, and stuffing a compact SUV into that space.

Perhaps that also explains the giant blind spot formed by the thick B-pillar. Either way, taller drivers will find themselves peering around it when crossing or tuning into intersections.

The seats themselves, however, are quite charming. They look a bit small with their cloth trim, but in reality, they’re comfy and supportive. The pleated John Cooper Works front seats that are standard in the SE are phenomenally good. The only thing missing is that distinct smell of leather we’d normally associate with a 60-grand car.

The traditional row of toggle switches under the central screen remains… sort of. These days, they’ve been modified to act as the starter button for the keyless start system and also the gear selector. The problem is that they’re gloss black on a black background, so they can seem a bit indistinct.

The gear selector has also been reinvented – again – with a separate Park button now to the side of the toggle. The other ergonomic glitch I noticed was every time I went for the interior door handle to leave the car, I fumbled for a second till I located it, tucked up under the armrest.

The clean, uncluttered dashboard means a couple of items have moved to the space between the front seats. So, there’s a pair of cupholders, a small, lidded compartments and a pair of USB charge-points all living in the real estate between the front chairs. That’s in the SE, anyway, because the cheaper E retains only the cupholders.

The luggage space is deeper than a lot of EVs manage and the rear seat folds 60/40 to open up a huge area if you don’t need the seats. With the rear seat up, there’s 300 litres of capacity and, with the seat folded, that leaps to 1005 litres.

There are three child restraint tether points, and the luggage space is served by a 12 volt socket.

There’s also a luggage cover that can be quickly removed for taller items. The tailgate is manually operated.

There are also three ISOFIX attachment points for child seats; two on the rear seat and one on the front passenger seat.

Yes, well. There's not a lot of space because a V12 is not just big all on its own, all the ancillaries to support it rob a lot of the remaining space. Having said that, there's room in the front for soft bags with a 180-litre front boot, space for two people inside, a cupholder and a glove box.

And the doors open up into the sky rather than out like a normal car's. Who cares if it's impractical, it's hardly something that's going to stop someone buying one.

As with any Italian supercar, the price-to-feature ratio is rather higher than your average humdrum hatchback. A 'naked' Aventador S starts at a horse-spooking $789,425 and basically has no direct competition. Ferrari's F12 is front-mid engined and any other V12 is either a decidedly different Rolls Royce-type machine or super-expensive niche manufacturer (yes, niche compared to Lamborghini) like Pagani. They're a rare very breed, Lambo knows it, and here we are a sneeze-on-the-spec sheet away from $800,000.

So you have to keep two things in mind when rating a car's value for money at this level. The first is that there isn't any real rival in a pure sense, and if there was, it would be the same price and have the same spec. That's not excusing it, by the way, it's an explanation.

Anyway.

For your eight hundy you get 20-inch front wheels and 21-inch rears, climate control, cruise control, 7.0-inch screen (backed by an older version of Audi's MMI), four-speaker stereo with Bluetooth and USB, car cover, bi-xenon headlights, carbon ceramic brakes, electric seats, windows and mirrors, leather trim, sat nav, keyless entry and start, four-wheel steering, leather trim, digital dashboard, power folding and heated mirrors, active rear wing and active suspension.

The number of out-of-the-box options is staggering and if you're keen to really get on it, you can commission your own options when it comes to trim and paint and wheels. Let's just say that as far as the interior went, our car had almost $29,000 of Alcantara, steering wheel and yellow. The telemetry system, heated seats, some extra branding and front and reversing camera (uh-huh) added up to $24,000, the cameras almost half that total.

With all the bits and bobs, the test car we had was a sobering $910,825 before on-roads.

Things kick off the with the E model’s 135kW electric motor that also produces 290Nm of torque. That, says Mini, is enough to get it from rest to 100km/h in just under eight seconds. The motor is powered by a 38.5kWh battery living under the floor

The SE gets more battery and more power; 49.2kWh and 160kW, respectively, with 330Nm of torque on tap as well. The claimed 0-100km/h time falls almost a second to 7.1sec.

A single-speed reduction transmission is fitted and the electric motor in both models is a single one, driving the front wheels in true Mini tradition.

Of course, the other aspect of a Mini’s driving experience is its go-kart handling. To that end, the Mini EV is tuned for handling and response and features a MacPherson strut front end and a multi-link suspension arrangement at the rear. Potentially offsetting that sidestep, however, is the car’s heft which, at 1.6 tonnes, is very un-Mini.

The Aventador S is powered by Automobili Lamborghini's 6.5-litre V12. You know it's a V12 because there's a plate on top of the engine (which you can see through the optional glass cover) that says so, and handily, tells you the cylinder firing order. That's a neat touch.

Buried deep in the middle of the car, this monster engine develops an astonishing 544kW (30kW up on the standard Aventador) and 690Nm. Its dry sump means the engine sits lower in the car. The gearbox is slung across the back between the rear wheels - the rear pushrod suspension actually sits on top of and across the gearbox - and is apparently brand new.

The transmission is known as an ISR (Independent Shift Rod) and has seven forward speeds and still just the one clutch. Power goes through all four wheels to the road, but it's clear the rears get the lion's share.

The 0-100km/h time is the same as the standard car, which kind of tells you that 2.9 seconds is about as quick as you can go on road tyres when you don't have four electric motors with torque from zero rpm.

Mini claims a power consumption figure of 14kWh per 100km for the E and 14.4 for the SE. Theoretically, that should give the E a (WLPT) range of 310km and the SE a claimed maximum of 406km.

In reality, you’ll be looking for a power-point before that, because those are both maximum range projections and, in highway conditions, without the regeneration potential of suburban running, you’ll use more power per 100km travelled.

Both version of the Mini EV can use fast chargers, the E model capable of 75kW DC charging, and the SE’s bigger battery able to handle 95kW. Charging at home on an 11kW AC outlet is also possible but, obviously, takes a lot longer to reach full charge.

For DC charging, the Mini uses a CCS Type 2 charging plug.

Speaking of which, on that 75kW fast charger, the E’s battery will go from 10 to 80 per cent charged in 28 minutes, while the bigger battery in the SE will take 31 minutes, its faster charging offset by its larger battery capacity.

At 11kW AC, the Aceman E can go from discharged to fully charged in four hours, 15 minutes, while the SE will take five-and-a-half hours.

Hilariously, the official figure is 16.9L/100km. I doubled it without trying. Simple as that. If you're buying this car thinking it will be easy on the juice, you're insane.

Cheeringly, Lambo has at least tried, the V12 going silent when you sit at the lights, the best thing being the way it bursts back into life when you lift off the brake.

If you have the time available, it takes 90 litres of premium unleaded to fill the tank.

Much is made by Mini of its tradition of go-kart-like handling. And fair enough, it’s one of the things that allows the Mini brand to justify a premium price-point. And the good news is that this version, electric driveline notwithstanding, continues that theme. Position the manually-adjustable steering column to the right spot and suddenly, you’re in a car that encourages you to enjoy the drive.

The steering is light but accurate and is actually one of the better calibrated modern, electrically-assisted set-ups we’ve sampled for a while.

The only thing it doesn’t do is give the feeling that you’re sitting right over the physical point in the car that it rotates around when it corners.

Instead, you get the impression of there being a fair bit of Mini nose jutting out in front of you, with the driver’s seat positioned well back in the cabin.

Given the extra length of the five-door layout, that’s not completely unexpected, but it’s something drivers of short-wheelbase Minis will perhaps note.

What that doesn’t affect is the way the car feels tied down pretty well, but never degenerates into a crashing, buck-board. Despite the flat cornering, there’s always some suspension travel left, it seems, and the damping is clearly spot on as it arrests wheel movement without interfering with the fun.

There’s plenty of grip, too, and if you play the Mini game and hustle it through a few corners, the Aceman quickly reveals its fun side, which is precisely the point here.

The instant urge of an electric drivetrain is also very much in evidence and flooring the throttle pedal results in an instant surge of Newton-metres. I could do without the Warner Brothers soundtrack (and I did, by turning it off) but the acceleration itself is pretty impressive without being confronting (as some EVs with their brutal delivery can feel).

The only other thing we’d comment on is a level of tyre and road noise that is far from best in class. Okay, so a bit of tyre roar is okay, and it’s only audible at all because silence from traditional mechanical sources is such an EV thing.

In Strada or Street mode, awful. Everything is slow and doughy, particularly the gearshift which goes looking for a gear like dog looking for a stick you didn't throw, but instead hid behind your back. The low-speed ride is nothing less than terrible, fidgeting over every single lump and bump and is only slightly more appealing than being dragged along behind.

The gearbox is really the worst bit about it. Automotive history is littered with cars that laboured along with a single clutch semi-auto: Alfa Romeo 156, BMW's E60 M5 and today the Citroen Cactus is stuck with just such a dud transmission.

Like that old M5, however, there's a trick to making the gearbox work for you - show absolutely no mercy.

Switch the selector up to Sport, get off the highway or major arterial road and head for the hills. Or better still, a clear race track. Then the Aventador goes from a pain in the rear to a glorious, roaring, completely unhinged and unhinging battle cruiser. This car is all about the experience, from the second you lay eyes on it to the moment you put it to bed.

This isn't an everyday supercar and it's absurd to think Lamborghini thinks it is.

First up, there's the obvious entry point with those wacky doors. While it's tricky to get in, if you're under six feet and reasonably mobile, stick your backside in, keep your head down and you're in. If you've been clever, you've specified the glass engine cover so you can see out the back but the huge wing mirrors are surprisingly effective.

Has someone thoughtlessly parked the car in a tight spot? No trouble, the four wheel steer makes the car absurdly manoeuvrable given its extravagant length and width.

As we've already established, it's not much fun at low speeds, waiting until about 70km/h before things start to make a bit more sense. This isn't an everyday supercar and it's absurd to think Lamborghini thinks it is. It just isn't.

The old Aventador was not the most capable of machines but made up for it with its overall belligerence. The new S takes that aggro and dials it up. When you move the drive mode to Sport you are basically unleashing hell. You can pretend to be super-masculine and switch to Corsa (race) mode, but it's all about getting the car straight and getting you around the track in the most efficient way possible. Sport is where it's at if you want to have fun.

The Aventador is about being seen, but not before you've been heard - from two postcodes away. It really is utterly glorious when you have a stretch of road to yourself. The V12 revs furiously to its 8400rpm redline and the wallop of the upshift is accompanied with a fantastic bark and a burst of blue flame. And these aren't the best bits.

Approach a corner, stomp on the colossal carbon ceramic brakes and the exhaust erupts in a combination of bangs and pops and growls that puts a smile on even the most hardened car-hater's face. The fact it steers into corners with just a demure roll of the wrist, aided and abetted by that funky four-wheel steering system. It's just brilliant, addictive and truth be told, it gets under your skin.

The Aventador doesn't have an ANCAP safety rating but the carbon chassis also comes with four airbags, ABS, stability and traction controls.

The Mini factory warranty was extended a couple of years ago to five years/unlimited kilometres. That’s an improvement on the three years the brand previously covered, but it’s still well short of the seven, eight and even 10 years of some competitors. In the fully electric Aceman’s case, there’s also eight years/160,000km worth of cover for the high-voltage battery. There’s also five years of roadside assistance thrown in.

There are no set service intervals for the Aceman, Mini instead preferring to use the concept of condition based servicing which involves the car telling you when its ready for maintenance. There’s capped price servicing available which costs $1371 for the first four years.

Beyond that, running costs will depend heavily on where and how your charge the car. Charging at home form a solar array will be the cheapest, while using commercial fast-chargers will inevitably ratchet up your running costs.

In an unexpected twist, you'll get a three-year/100,000km warranty and the option to increase to four years ($11,600!) or five years ($22,200!)(!). Having recovered from typing that, given the cost of something going wrong, that's probably money well-spent.