LONGBRIDGE has seen many a wake in its long and, not so glorious, history. But no one, not even the longest time-served spanner man, could remember anything quite like this.

As the final car came off the antiquated production line, a deathly hush fell over the giant Midlands factory. Seconds later, the distinctive vocals of Matt Monro began to issue from the public address system and crowds began to gather. Among the spectators were some of MG Rover's most senior executives, people like John Towers, the straight-talking entrepreneur who had bought the company for a tenner when the Germans decided they no longer wanted it.

Moments later, a red Mini Cooper Sport trundled into view driven by the singer and entertainer Lulu. People cheered and champagne corks popped as the little car pulled off and the line was switched off for the final time. Amid the hub-bub, in the background, Matt continued to croon about "Days Like These" - the title track from the film "The Italian Job" a movie better known for its cars than its stars.

After 41 years of continuous production, manufacture of the little car that came to symbolise an industry had finally ended. The Mini had survived almost against the odds and the British public had taken it to their heart like no other car before or since.

Production of the Mini may have ended, but the Mini story is about to begin anew.

BMW - the company that bought Rover from beneath Honda's nose, then abandoned it several years and a few billion quid later for a token payment - has a new Mini and it goes on sale this weekend.

To look at, it's unmistakably a Mini, albeit a 21st Century interpretation of the concept - much like the modern day Volkswagen Beetle - but this car hopes to make a somewhat different statement than its utilitarian predecessor. The original was basic transport. Rubber mats covered the floor, vinyl was smeared over the seats, a speedo lay smack in the centre of an open fascia, the windows had to be pushed sideways if you wanted some fresh air and the door pulls were simple cord. Even a heater was on the extras list.

Slip inside a new Mini and you'll be amazed from the moment the heavy door pulls shut with a satisfying "thunk". Michael Caine would certainly have a hard time blowing those off. A new Mini is every inch a baby BMW.

It's well equipped too. The interior is a jewel, taking styling cues from the original (the instruments are planted in the middle so both driver and passenger can see what's going on), as well as more modern cars like the Audi TT (the extensive use of silver and chrome rimmed instruments).

Sir Alec Issigonis, the design genius who created the original Mini, would have been appalled at the thick-pile carpets, premium audio system, the deep, comfortable sports seats and the beautifully-made steering wheel with its controls for fixing the speaker volume. As for the satellite navigation system and widespread deployment of airbag safety equipment - he'd probably have ordered the whole lot taken out and dumped in a large skip.

Issigonis was a master of design but he had no patience for those people who argued cars should be more than just a means of getting from A to B. His sole concession to hedonism was designing the door bins so they were wide enough to carry a pint of milk.

During company board meetings, he insisted that everyone present should sit, not round the expensive wood table, but in the lotus position on the floor.

The new Mini has been created for the sort of drivers Issigonis loathed - people who place maximum importance on the image their choice of wheels creates, not its practicality. It isn't even much of a Mini any more, being several inches longer than the original, and it looks like a far larger car than its ancient predecessor.

Then there's the indefinable British character that made the original Mini such a chic little machine and helped prolong its stay way beyond that of a normal model. No one can put a finger on what makes one car great and another turn out to be a stinker. Sure, the Mini's innovative use of technology (front wheel drive, a transverse engine, wheel at each corner, etc) helped make it a good drive, but Issigonis was only refining the kind of thinking seen on some pre-war German concepts.

Slick marketing also helps define a new model. But all the money in the world can't save a poor car, as Ford so ably demonstrated with the Edsel, the biggest bomb in automotive history.

And BMC was never much good at advertising anyway. When the makers of The Italian Job approached the company for a supply of cars for their film, the company politely declined even so much as a generous discount. Had it not been for a canny dealer in Switzerland, the film could have starred a Fiat instead. Contrast that with the willingness of Volkswagen to donate a whole fleet of Beetles (some 30 or so) to the Disney corporation when it made The Love Bug a year later.

The new car won't be starring in its own movie (yet) but you can expect the BMW marketing machine to do its usual polished job over the next few months.

So will the new Mini succeed like the last one? It's certainly British (BMW kept faith with a modern Rover plant in Oxford and, when it sold Longbridge, just moved the production line south) and it surely looks the part. Expectation and desirability will carry the car through its first year. By then, BMW plans to have established the Mini as a force to be reckoned with in Europe. A raft of spin-offs - cabriolet, small estate, and possibly a coupe - will help the drive into North America, a country where small traditionally equates with dangerous. Not so on the new car that is positively loaded with safety kit (a crumple zone and up to six airbags).

It's difficult to believe the workers of BMW Oxford will be holding a wake for the new Mini in 2042. The car will have long since gone to that great scrap heap in the sky. Until then, BMW can look forward to embracing thousands of new customers seduced by the little car with the big reputation.

* Fans of the original Mini can read more about this remarkable car in Mini, written by Laurence Meredith and published by Sutton, price £12.99