One of the few brands to survive the implosion of the British motor conglomerate known as BMC, then Leyland, and finally Rover, was one that was never really a brand at all.
It was Mini, a name repressed wherever possible by BMC for fear it might belittle their fine motor car (the British Motor Corporation called the early models the "Austin Seven" and "Morris 850").
When the car was a worldwide success, BMC gave in to the naming pressure, though never quite got around to properly updating the product.
Rover fell into the clutches of BMW in 1994, and the German company immediately set about trying to give a new lease of life to the Mini, largely unchanged since its launch in 1959.
It wasn't that Rover had been uninterested. Proposals had been floated through the 1960s, 1970s and 1980s.
But top management preferred bigger cars that were supposed to bring bigger profits, but merely increased the losses.
The all-new Mini that finally emerged in 2000 sold up a storm and became a brand rather than a badge. Yet on day one there was much disappointment.
It came down to a philosophical debate. Should the newcomer be as innovative as the original Mini, which completely changed the small car rules? Or should BMW/Rover take the safe route and bang out a low-risk, retro-styled car with the sort of chic people would pay extra for?
The camp in favour of the former - primarily Rover engineers - had started work circa 1994 on what was eventually known as the Spiritual, a two-door, almost bubble-shaped car.
Instead of the original's front-drive and transverse "four" in the nose, it had an 800cc "triple" in its tail powering the rear wheels.
The Spiritual was exactly the same length as the original Mini but with a bigger interior, better fuel efficiency and improved safety.
With a high body, a wheel right at each corner, Hydragas suspension and an all-up weight under 700 kilograms, the Spiritual was a fugly little brute, but a clever one too. Just like the original.
A longer four-door version was known as Spiritual Too. The claim was that it had as much interior room as an Benz S-Class or BMW 7-Series limousine.
With the designs locked up by 1995, they could have seen production by 1997.
But when a "future Mini" was shown by BMW in 1997, it wasn't the Spiritual. It was a concept known as the ACV30, a pure showcar that gave a more bulbous interpretation of standard Mini lines, and had lots of rally stripes to recall the Monte Carlo-winning Minis of the 1960s.
It was built on MGF running gear (complete with mid-engine) and was little more than a publicity stunt.
So why then, a few weeks later, did BMW drag out the now-two-year old Spiritual concepts and give them pride of place at the Geneva Motor Show?
Simple. Although BMW had no intention of going any further with them, they saw a chance to give the finger to Mercedes, which was preparing its new A-Class for market. Look, we did a microcar first!
While these games were being played, BMW had been shopping around its various departments (including Rover) for a new design.
The one that was chosen came from BMW Designworks in California and looked just as you'd expect a modern Mini to look.
Substantially bigger than the original and with a hatch at the back, it was clean-lined, and the unique new platform afforded wonderful handling.
But, as for Mini-style innovation, nah. Not a bit.
