Car News Articles

(Chris: We still have a few Pontiac pieces to run this week to close out our RIP Pontiac theme, but this was just too good to wait.)

“You’re probably the only guy I’m ever going to let drive this thing,” Nick said as he handed me the key. 

The Mercedes-Benz CL600 sat there like a panther, the glossy black paint and tinted windows exuding a very refined, distinctive, upscale air of pure predatory menace. I slipped into the driver’s seat and started the V-12. The tach needle jumped as I cranked it, then settled down to idle speed, but the engine itself was awfully quiet. Too quiet, as they say in those old adventure movies. The driver’s seat was upholstered in phenomenally comfortable leather, facing an instrument panel which was both logical and elegant in its design. The wood on the steering wheel and around the shifter was polished to a level of shine that rivals the finer grades of telescope mirror.

I had never before driven a car with this many cylinders, or this many digits in the sticker price, so I was careful at first. I put it in gear and eased it through the parking lot to the street. I stopped at the end of the restaurant driveway, made sure that there was no traffic, and turned left.

Before me was a stretch of concrete unsullied by other traffic or the presence of the local constabulary. At that moment, I was overcome by the spirit of pure boyish mischief and floored it.

I’m not quite sure how to describe what came next.

Okay, you’ve all heard “Won’t Get Fooled Again” by The Who, right? You know how there’s that organ solo after the last verse, and everything tapers down like the song is ending, and then Keith Moon fires off a bunch of drum riffs and right about at 7:45 (if you’re listening to the original eight and a half minute version from Who’s Next) Roger Daltrey lets out the greatest scream in the history of rock music? It’s the scream they use in the opening of CSI: Miami. You know which one I mean now? You’re with me? Good.

That’s what happened. My foot went down and yeeeeeeeaaaaaaahhhhh!

If there was any turbo lag–no, forget I said that, there was no turbo lag. Acceleration just happened. No hesitation. One of the rear tires may have started to chirp for maybe a tenth of a second before the traction control said Nein! Kein Schieben oder Gleiten! but that was as close as we got to a breach of the car’s orderly German manners.

According to Nick, the CL600 in its current configuration has 493 horsepower and 590 pounds of asphalt-warping torque available from the turbocharged 5.5-liter SOHC V-12. 0-60 happens in 4.5 seconds, and the quarter-mile time is somewhere in the mid-12s. If for some reason you don’t think that’s impressive, please take into account that this is a full-size luxury car which weighs 4,473 pounds and has an automatic transmission.

As if that isn’t enough–I guess for him, it isn’t enough–Nick is considering putting in a Kleeman aftermarket ECM chip which would take the monster motor up to 627 horsepower and 713 pounds of torque and delete the line of code in the engine software that limits the top speed to 155. At that point, he’ll have a car capable of the kind of acceleration (under 4 seconds 0-60) and cruising speeds that Stephen Hawking used to write peer-reviewed physics papers about. He plans to then take it to the local dragstrip and deliver the shock of a lifetime to some of the muscle car boys.

The CL600 is of course anything but a rough-edged muscle car. On our test drive, I deliberately aimed for the rough spots in the pavement. Even with the computer-controlled hydraulic suspension in the allegedly harsh “sport” mode, the ride was completely smooth. It soaked up the bumps better than one of my father’s old luxobarges.The seats are plush and supportive, and I can’t think of a more comfortable place to be sitting when you decide to punch the throttle and violate the speed limit and the laws of physics. It’s also kitted out with every comfort and convenience gadget known to the modern automotive arts, including proximity sensors that detect objects within eight feet of the car, and what Nick accurately calls the world’s most over-engineered cupholder.

While the ride was smooth and the cabin luxurious, this car is not soft. I took the CL600 down one of my favorite twisty roads at a brisk clip. (I didn’t push the envelope too hard; no sense giving Nick a reason to regret handing me the key.) It’s a heavy car built for the Autobahn rather than for the autocross, and consequently lacks the agility of something smaller like my GTI. Even so, it can be tossed through the curves fairly aggressively without losing its composure. The variable-assist power steering has plenty of road feel, the brakes are equal to the car’s speed and size, the suspension computer and the hydraulics keep the body lean in check, and so the thing just corners like it’s on rails. Nick’s only complaint about the handling is that the stability control is so over-protective that it prevents you from powersliding in a turn–which tells you where he’s coming from, I suppose!

The CL600 is too big and maybe a bit too opulent for my personal taste, but it’s impossible not to respect a vehicle that combines champagne-and-caviar luxury with fire-breathing terror-of-the-dragstrip acceleration. It’s the perfect car for driving to the opera–especially if you “accidentally” leave the house a little too close to curtain time and need to get there in a hurry!

I’d like to thank my good friend Nick Corp for giving me the chance to play with his shiny new (to him) toy. If you’re on the roads in the northeast part of Ohio, you might see him. He’s in the black Benz that just blew past you in the left lane.

–Cookie the Dog’s Owner