Wok-sized three-pointed star preceding
sixteen and half feet of imposing, Banquo’s ghost-white coachwork; 19in
gloss-black alloys nursing the angry ulcers of bright-red brake calipers; a
power-to-weight ratio of 279bhp-per-tonne; an exhaust system tuned to ape a
sleuth of bears awoken from hibernation by a BB-gun alarm clock...
Gussetted with all of the above, does this
S63 AMG Coupe really need more to make an entrance? With the no-cost option of
Swarovski-crystal-adorned headlights, like a teenage girl’s glass trophy
cabinet housing 47 examples of the exact same animal, sometimes I worry about
the good burghers of Benz.
This CL63 AMG replacement is a handsome car
though, and far better looking than its sibling, the S-class saloon.
Predictably, though, the profile boasts that brace of gently dubious,
road-to-nowhere converging lines rapidly approaching Benz-model ubiquity, with
which I struggle. On the flanks of a 1960 Corvette, similar lines at least have
the decency to copulate properly, allowing for two-tone colouring of the
bodywork.
The
S63 AMG Coupe is a rival for the likes of the Aston Martin Vanquish, Bentley
Continental GT and Ferrari FF
Far more callipygous than that of its sister
saloon, the rear, however, strikes me as something of a success; the sloping
roofline facilitating a far more svelte rump. Gone are the saloon’s bland,
Candy Crush-blob rear tail lights, to be replaced by slim, two-piece units. And
it’s amazing what the simple act of removing the number plate to a lower
position and, hence, dropping the three-pointed star location in hommage to the
300SL can do to elicit a fresh perspective.
Unfortunately, rear badging isn’t the only
thing to have endured the ministrations of Pickfords. Despite a wheelbase just
three-and-a-half inches shorter than that of the S-class saloon, most of the
latter’s lavish cabin space has also been removed. Rear seat access and egress
is an activity best left to dazzlingly lithe acrobats.
Compared
to the old CL, there is now improved steering precision around the straight
ahead
Though the front seats are immensely
comfortable and supportive, accommodation does feel somewhat claustrophobic. I
struggle, moreover, to find an ideal driving position. Raise the seat high
enough to afford a glimpse of the sea at the end of the pier and, not only is
the panoramic sunroof a blessing in affording a whiff of extra headroom, but
also it’s hard to get the small, flat-bottomed AMG wheel into a complementary
position. When ideally located for me, it slices through the top of the
instrument binnacle, making the new head-up display more necessity than bonus.
Not that there’s any ocular pleasure to be
gained from said binnacle. The faux-analogue panel is inadequately sized
(perhaps a necessity wrought by the need to read it through the small helm),
entirely artificial-looking, cluttered and bizarrely prioritised; I know this
is an AMG, but relegating the fuel gauge to a tiny, percentage-remaining window
in favour of a gearbox oil-temperature dial? In all, the experience is akin to
watching a neighbour’s cheap, flat-screen television through their letterbox.
The
touchpad acts a bit like a smartphone: you can operate functions with finger
gestures
Lob in the fact that there’s no analogue
clock and that the number of on-board help ‘n’ safety nanny systems has swollen
sufficiently to merit a separate bank of switches, and it’s all too easy to
overlook the stuff that Mercedes does so well: door armrest and centre console
lid set at identical height for maximum elbow comfort; the discreet butler who ahem’s
the seat belt to you every time you close the door; ventilation that shuts off
like a dying breeze rather than a slamming door when you close an air vent...
etc.
