GOING AROUND AGAIN

First thrashed on a lap of the Mediterranean, then taken apart in the name of science, this Mk1 Mini's recent restoration marks its third lease of life

- GREG MACLEMAN

There was no shortage of groundbreaking cars in the '50s, from the fuel-injected Mercedes-Benz 300SL Gullwing and the futuristic Citroën DS to the wild concepts emanating from Italy and space-age land yachts from North America. But the most lasting impression on the world of car design came from a product not of Turin's design studios but of Longbridge, a triumph more of perspective and approach than cutting-edge technology, in the pint-sized form of the Morris Mini-Minor.

Everywhere we go, 667 GFC seems to draw a crowd. From excited kids who've likely never seen a car so small to seasoned campaigners, misty-eyed at memories of their youth, there is no end to the noses pressed to its sliding glass windows. Even aficionados seem impressed, the more knowledgeable noting the external door hinges, ‘magic wand' gearlever, and neat oval tail-lamps that distinguish it as an ultra-desirable Mkl - one of around 250 thought to survive from a production run totalling some 22,000.

As an examplar of Alec Issigonis' genius concept, the first iteration is comfortably the most fitting - before the myriad improvements and tweaks that marked the transition from design icon to, at least by the end, something of a retro throwback. 667 GFC is as fine a Mk1 as you're likely to find, too, but it isn't without its curiosities. First, there's a chassis number of just 100 - earlier in the running order than the oldest-known Mini, 621 AOK. Then there's the bodyshell, a 1960 pressing that doesn't quite tally with the apparent age of the car, and an engine dating from mid-'60; the rest of the mechanical components are as early as they come. The discrepancies can be traced to a fascinating initial life tied to the promotion of the model.