The Curious Case of Bavarian Eccentricity: From the Mini Paceman to the V16 Goldfish

It is a commonly held notion amongst motoring enthusiasts that the premature discontinuation of the Mini Paceman between 2013 and 2017 was triggered by customers fleeing showrooms in sheer horror at its design. However, the reality is far more mundane. The top brass at the BMW Group simply opined that this peculiar SUV was positioned far too close to its sibling, the Mini Countryman, leading to an identity crisis within the brand. In hindsight, one must admit that the cannibalisation of sales was perhaps overstated; a cursory glance at leading used car portals today reveals a scarcity of Paceman models compared to the glut of Countrymans from the same era.

The confusion regarding what the Paceman actually represents persists to this day. Is it a compact SUV, a bloated hatchback, or indeed a coupé? Mini, in their wisdom, claimed it was targeting the likes of the Volkswagen Golf, the Scirocco, and even the Range Rover Evoque. This attempt to be a “car for all reasons” likely contributed to its sluggish sales, exacerbated by a price tag that was some £1000 heftier than the more practical Countryman. Ironically, the tables have turned in the pre-owned market, where the Paceman now commands a lower price, making it a rather intriguing proposition for the astute buyer.

Mechanical Merits and Potential Pitfalls

For those willing to overlook the ambiguity of its segment, the Paceman offers a driving experience that is undeniably sporty, albeit slightly blunted by its sheer bulk. It shares a platform with the Countryman but benefits from lowered sports suspension and a pumped-up aesthetic at the rear haunches. Despite a lower roofline, the cabin remains surprisingly accommodating, losing only a negligible 10mm of headroom compared to its stablemate, whilst the 330-litre boot remains practical.

When scouting for a used example, one must exercise caution regarding engine selection. As diesel engines have effectively become persona non grata due to strict emission norms—specifically the London ULEZ which penalises pre-2016 diesels—the petrol variants are the prudent choice. The 181bhp Cooper S is particularly recommended to handle the vehicle’s weight. Prospective owners should, however, remain vigilant for oil leaks, rattling timing chains on cold starts, and clutch slippage on All4 models. If one desires a diesel, the post-2015 Cooper SD offers a robust 141bhp without falling foul of emissions zones, provided one checks for carbon build-up in the EGR valve.

A Legacy of Engineering Madness

This penchant for producing vehicles that defy conventional logic is not a new phenomenon for the Munich-based giant. Long before the Paceman confused buyers, BMW engineers were busy creating a monster that would never see a showroom floor. In the late 1980s, whilst the E32 generation of the 7 Series was already challenging the dominance of the Mercedes S-Class, a secret project was underway to deliver the ultimate knockout blow.

Codenamed “Goldfish”—a moniker that seemingly bears no relation to a luxury limousine—this project was born from the desire to assert absolute dominance. The existing V12 engine had already surpassed the offerings from Stuttgart, but BMW refused to rest on its laurels. A small team led by Adolf Fischer, the mastermind behind the V12, decided to escalate the cylinder wars by creating a colossal 6.7-litre V16 engine.

The Anatomy of the Goldfish

The engineering involved was nothing short of radical. Fischer’s team effectively took two V12 engines, sliced off cylinders from each, and fused them together with a new crankcase and crankshaft. The result was a powerhouse delivering 408 horsepower and 613 Nm of torque, capable of propelling the heavy saloon from a standstill to 100 km/h in a mere six seconds.

Installing this behemoth into a 735iL body, however, was akin to the famous scenes of Tokyo subway pushers cramming passengers into overflowed carriages. The V16 was some 30 centimetres longer than the V12, leaving absolutely no space under the bonnet for the cooling system. Consequently, the engineers were forced to relocate the entire cooling apparatus to the boot. This necessitated the fabrication of massive, gill-like vents on the rear fenders to channel air, a design feature that gave the car its aquatic nickname.

The One That Got Away

While the Paceman made it to production only to fade away, the Goldfish remained a singular testament to engineering hubris. It featured a six-speed manual gearbox lifted from the 8 Series, allowing test drivers to experience the raw power of the V16 directly. Although it was a functional vehicle capable of hitting 250 km/h, the sheer complexity and the compromised luggage space meant it was never destined for mass production. Both the Paceman and the Goldfish serve as reminders that the BMW Group has never been afraid to step off the beaten path, whether through quirky crossovers or sixteen-cylinder monsters.