Category: Drive Time

I’ve always had a soft spot for the Mercedes Geländewagen (“G-wagon/-wagen”) in pretty much all its versions because… well, because despite all its flaws (brick-like aerodynamics, gas-guzzling engine, tank-like ride blah blah blah) all wrapped up in an astronomical price:

I still want to own one.  Badly.  And even despite Mercedes having done away with a stick shift in the early 2000s (pppppbbbbbbbbbtttttt).

Maybe it’s because of all those flaws, or maybe it’s because at the end of the day, the ur-military design and engineering means that the G is pretty much indestructible and will take you to places that would overturn a Jeep, overpower a Range Rover and make even the old Toyota Landcruiser shake with fear.

Not that I myself would ever put any of that to the test, of course, because a.) I’m too old for such foolishness and b.) my idea of a “challenging ride” is negotiating the speed bumps in my apartment complex without becoming airborne or blowing out the suspension.

So why would I want a G-wagen?  Just because.  Because in a world of cars designed and built for today’s softer man, there is still an option to say, “Fuck it” and drive something that makes a statement — that statement being:  “This asshole has too much money and is wasting it on a truck that costs almost as much as a Bentley.”

To which the typical G-wagen owner will reply, “Yeah?  And so?”

It’s the ultimate middle digit directed at the Greens, the wealth-envious, the nannies at the NHSA and pretty much all the little petty totalitarian wannabes who want to tell us how to run our lives and prevent us from owning this and making our only choice that.  And it’s always been that way, from earlier times:

1984

…to the early 2000s:

2005

…and today:

G55

…and if there’s a better picture that encapsulates the hulking body and brooding spirit of the G-wagen, I haven’t found it yet.

Needless to say, of course, Mercedes being no longer the militaristic- and engineering-focused company that it once was, has bowed in obeisance to the Global Cooling Climate Warming Change© hysteria, and will now produce… an electric G-wagen.  Here’s a pic:

(yeah, it looks more like the new Ford Bronco and relaunched Land Rover than a G-wagen)

What amuses me is that Mercedes were going to call it the EQC or some such bollocks, but realized that making it sound like something Apple would make might be a bad idea — so they dropped that and called it the G580 (because the Duracell-powered engine produces 580hp and gets it to 60mph in under five seconds, whoop-dee-doo).

And this?

They’ve dropped the spare wheel to accommodate the massive, pythonesque charging cable that will be needed to recharge the Duracells every 285 miles — uh-huh — with no mention of how long said process will take.  Of course.

By the way, the Duracell G-wagen weighs about 3.5 tons (6,800lbs) compared to the “normal” G-wagen’s 2.5 tons (5,500lbs).

And to complete the cynicism of the whole exercise, it has a CD player under the hood which creates a fake “G-wagen roar” instead of the typical electric engine’s “Thunberg whine”.

Here’s an overview of the thing.

Anyone who knows me will be able to predict that I regard this fucking piece of shit with something akin to sex with Rebel Wilson or Lizzo — i.e. no man should — and I haven’t even discussed its price yet.  Okay, I will:  $190,000 (compared to the G550’s $150k).

Considering, as I’ve said before, that the G-wagen I really want is the diesel-powered

1984 300GD

…with a manual gearbox and separate transfer case for serious 4WD activity, you may understand how far off the new Mercedes is from my radar screen.

And the fully-reconditioned- and rebuilt G-wagen above has a F.O.B. sticker price of $55,000.  The hundred-odd grand in “savings” would be spent on a sports car like a second-hand low-mileage Mazda Miata:

…and guns like this H&H Cavalier.

Note that the Mazda has a manual transmission and the shotgun is a side-by-side:  still more pointers that as far as I’m concerned, the modern world and all its whizz-bang technology can go and fuck itself.

We’ve all seen my American garage;  now here, spurred on by last Saturday’s post of the Holland-to-Spain exercise, is its European counterpart.  It would be located in, I dunno, maybe the Austrian Alps or somewhere in the Black Forest, wherever I decided to set up a European base.

I excluded all British right-hand drive ones, with regret, because while I’d be okay on a highway, the smaller Euro roads (which I’d surely drive instead) are another story altogether.

Anyway, I limited my European garage to ten cars, as before, and here they are, in no specific order:

1972 Fiat Dino 2400

Are you kidding me?  I’ve always loved Fiats, with all their little quirks and niggles, but a Fiat with a Ferrari (Dino) 246 V6 under the hood?  [exit, drooling]

1971 BMW 3.0CS

I drove one once, and I would feel comfortable making this my everyday driver, on any continent (okay, Europe or the U.S.).  All the power I’d ever need, understated looks, old-time Beemer reliability and performance… I think you get my drift.

1981 Alfa Romeo GTV6

As for Fiat, so with Alfa.  I’ve driven this beauty before, from Johannesburg to Durban (about 400 miles) and I can truthfully say that it was the most enthralling drive ever — the old mountain road called Van Reenen’s Pass was a twisty, narrow and stupendous test for any car’s roadholding and handling, and the GTV6 passed with flying colors.  (Me?  My whole body was shaking with an adrenaline overload.)  And yeah, when I eventually stopped to refuel, the door handle came off in my hand.  Si bella.

1949 Mercedes-Benz 170S

My oldie choice.  Yes, I’d prefer the 1954/55 300 S or SC, but that’s not what they had in stock, the Dutch idiots, so I’d “settle” for the 170.  Drive all day, and drink in the admiration from passers-by.  My kinda fun.

1977 Jensen Interceptor MK3

My token Anglo-American car in the garage.  Who’s going to say no to a spacious sports car with that lovely color scheme, and the brilliant Chrysler 7.2-liter V8 engine purring (okay, roaring) as you get to a nice flat bit of straight road?  Not I.

1974 Volkswagen Beetle

For those days I just want to be incognito.

1989 BMW 320i E30

A sentimental choice, this one.  I owned a BMW 318i back in the old Racist Republic, and loved it more than perhaps any other car I drove back there.  And this E30 model has a stick shift, just as mine did.  Hubba hubba.

Porsche 356 Pre-A Roadster

If my European garage is going to contain a Porsche (and of course it should) then this lovely old 356 fills the requirement, more than adequately.  And anyway, I don’t care much for the 911 line.

And finally:

1965 Mercedes-Benz 230SL Pagode

Okay, maybe the older 230 SL is a little underpowered by today’s rip-roaring sports car standards;  but if we go by my major criterion, i.e. “Will this car make me glad to be alive when I see it in the garage?”, then the little 230 most assuredly qualifies.

Wait… no Ferrari, Kim?

I’m not too impressed by the ones offered, to be honest.  And I did pick the Ferrari-powered Fiat 2400, didn’t I?

Oh, I need to answer the question posed in last Saturday’s Amsterdam – Madrid exercise:  which one would I pick to make the trip?

None of them — because the rules state that it’s a one-way trip and the car to be sold upon arrival in Madrid.  I wouldn’t want that for any of the above.  For that reason, this is my pick:

1961 Jaguar MK II

That unbelievable color scheme, a supremely comfortable ride, and pretty much all the power one would need on a European road… if you don’t agree with this choice, I’m quite sure you’ve never been in a Mk II.  I have, and that’s all there is to say about that.

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One last thing:  there is, among all the cars for sale at ER Classics, one that I’d buy and ship back to the U.S., simply because I’d want an SUV that would be more U than S, if you follow me.  That’s this one:

1984 Mercedes-Benz 300GD

Excuse me, but that lovely and powerful 3-liter diesel engine (fuck Earth Day) in something that can be driven hard and put away all muddy and dusty, to be driven in the same manner the next day, and the next, and the next, without ever breaking down or even breaking a sweat?

Want.

Two weeks ago, you were stranded in St. Louis and had to buy a car to drive home.

Guess what?  It’s happened again, only this time your airport was Schipol, outside Amsterdam. The problem?  You were going to fly home from Madrid, Spain, so somehow you have to get from Holland to Spain (a full two-day drive), but you decide you’ll take five days because that’s when your flight leaves Madrid, using a route roughly along these lines:

or:

And luckily, you discover ER Classics, just a short train ride from Amsterdam, where you will find choices like this:

So browse the showroom and pick yourself a car for this one-way trip through northern Europe.  There are a lot more choices here than there were at St. Louis, so take your time… and be assured, as before, that the car will be reliable enough to get you there, needing only refueling along the way.

Oh, and the weather will be warm, mostly sunny but with occasional light rain (because Yurp).

Let me know in Comments.

Watch as Harry Metcalfe tries to get his ancient Fiat 500 to start, after a 5-year layoff.

(yes, that’s Harry, back in the 1980s)

As it looks now:

Much frustration follows, as Harry and Charlie try one thing, and then another — and along the way, we get a lesson on how the Fiat’s simple engine works.

But… all is to avail, and in despair they start talking about having to drop the engine out.

And then… a simple fix, and there is much joy in Harry’s Garage.

Now, a tour of Harry’s garage.  And there’s a sequel to this, in the very next post.

No of course it doesn’t exist — for one thing, I’m not a zillionaire like Harry Metcalfe, and nor have I been a petrolhead like Harry for decades.

That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t (and who wouldn’t?) like to have a 10-car garage like Harry’s, filled with all my dream cars.  The only question:  could I keep it to only 10?  Let’s have a look, and they’re not in any order of preference.

Firstly, Longtime Loyal Readers will not be surprised by any of the cars in my garage, because they’ve heard me bang on about them for years.  So I’ll start with the most-frequently-mentioned ones:

1972 Dino 246 GT

Okay, honestly:  it was Ferrari’s first attempt at an entry-level Ferrari — Old Man Enzo didn’t even want to badge it as a Ferrari, at first — and it’s not really a very good drive, by Ferrari standards.  The gear shift is clunky and the clutch needs Lou Ferrigno muscles to work if you’re driving it in stop-start traffic. But:  it is to my mind, and to the minds of many others, one of (if not the most) beautiful cars ever built.  And if like me you will occasionally say, “The hell with function;  what about the form?” then you’re not going to quibble (kinda like Salma Hayek’s inability to make a decent fish ‘n chips:  who cares?).

The same is true of the next one in Kim’s Garage:

1966 Jaguar E-type Series 2 Speedster

Yes, I’d probably prefer to have the resto-modded Eagle version, but truthfully, I don’t care.  And this car needs no justification, because E-type.

2001 BMW Z8

BMW’s successor to the 1959 Model 507, it’s one of the very few “modern” (made in the 21st century) cars that made me catch my breath the minute I saw it for the first time.  As did the next one:

2015 Maserati GT

It has a Ferrari 4.7-liter V8 engine, and looks to put Lollobrigida in the shade;  what’s not to worship?  But enough of the youngins.  Let’s go back in time a tad…

1954 Mercedes 300 SC

Quite possibly one of the best cars Mercedes has ever built.  The engineers were told to design a car that could cruise at top speed all day on the autobahn without ever suffering a mechanical breakdown of any kind.  So they did.  (I’d even accept the larger 300 S sedan model of the same year — same car, really.)

1967 Austin Healey 3000 Mk III

Yeah I know:  oil leaks, Lucas electrical system, blah blah blah.  Don’t care, I love it dearly.  As I do the next sports car:

1970 Alfa Romeo Giulia GT Junior

Alfa pura.  Tiny, raucous, spunky and glorious.  Like the next one.

1966 Mini-Moke

Not the modern electrical one;  this is the underpowered runaround with the famed Mini 850cc engine;  famous, that is, for being the engine that when you put your throttle flat to the floor:  nothing happens.  And speaking of underpowered runarounds;  if I couldn’t find the older Austin Moke, then I’d get a decent substitute:

1960 Fiat 500 Jolly

Just the wicker seats alone make this worth the price of admission.  But let’s get serious, now…

1976 Mercedes 450 SEL 6.9

The Q-ship of the Mercedes line, with a standard W116 frame that concealed a roaring 6.9-liter V8 monster under the hood.  What the 1954 Merc engineers would have designed if they’d had the technology.  (In today’s money, it cost the equivalent of $195,000 back then.)  This, and the ’54 300 SC would be my “refined” drives.

At some point, I have to acknowledge that several of the sports cars listed above would be, shall we say “occasional” drives, the occasions being that they were actually working and not in the shop.  So for the last one, I’m going to go for reliability above all.

1994 Honda NSX

It’s the sports-car equivalent of the two Mercedes on the list:  reliable to a fault, but with all the grunt I’d ever want or need.  And it’s not bad looking, either.  (I don’t like the more recent model NSX because it’s pig-ugly and vulgar.)

 

We all know about the dreadful Lucas Electronics, or in shorthand:

But what if they got it right?

Iain Tyrrell talks about how Lucas’s fuel injection system was the bees’ knees, and dominated racing from the late 1950s all the way to the 1980s.  Even Ferrari were forced to use them in their monster P3 and P4 Le Mans cars.

Take a few minutes to learn about it, from the master mechanic his own self.  Then watch as he makes an old TR6 work properly again.

And by the way, I would take a (Tyrrell-restored) Triumph TR6 into my garage, any day of the week.

Rule Britannia, and all that.