Car Reviews

The biggest problem with the Aston Martin DB5 Goldfinger Continuation is always going to be one of discipline. The stoplight that stays red too long, the pedestrian who steps out without looking, the bully in the SUV that cuts you off—how long could you resist the temptation to deploy the twin .303-caliber machine-guns? Similarly, could you stave off the urge to deploy a smoke screen, or even an oil slick, in the face of a determined tailgater? What about the ability to instantly switch license plates before (or after) committing a moving traffic violation? “Me, officer? No, it must have been that other Silver Birch DB5.”
Unlikely as it seems, we are suffering from a confusing surfeit of James Bond-inspired DB5 replicas. Back in February, we told you about the carbon-fiber-bodied stunt version that was created for the latest outing in the long-running franchise, the delayed No Time To Die. Despite looking almost identical and also being produced by Aston Martin, the DB5 Goldfinger is very different. It’s also way cooler—because of gadgets.

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Aston Martin

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Speaking of gadgets, it has pretty much a full set. The heritage Aston Martin Works division has followed up its official limited-run recreations of the DB4 GT and DB4 GT Zagato with a similarly perfect replica of the iconic DB5 that was created for the third official James Bond film, 1964’s Goldfinger. This was the first time that Britain’s least-secret secret agent, then played by Sean Connery, got to drive an Aston Martin. Thanks to the vivid imagination of production designer Ken Adam, it was also the first time 007 drove a car packed with a variety of lethal weaponry and defenses, something that immediately became a hallmark for the long-running franchise.
The DB5 in Bond’s arsenal for Goldfinger included twin Browning machine-guns that deployed from behind the front turn signals, rotating license plates, front and rear bumper rams, a bulletproof metal screen that rose up behind the rear window, dispensers for smokescreens and oil slicks, radar, and what seemed at the time like an impossible futuristic idea: an in-car telephone headset. The secret agent’s ride also had rotary tire slashers that seemed to somehow deploy from within its wire wheels and even, most famously, a passenger-side ejector seat that Connery uses to rid himself of a gun-wielding thug with exceptionally poor reactions.
Recreating most of these features for regular use proved a serious technical challenge, as the gadgets used on the cars used for filming were theatrical props. Chris Corbould, the Oscar-winning special-effects designer who has now worked on 15 Bond films, led a team to create replicas of the original alterations. Aston then worked out how to package them within what is, beneath the modifications and gizmos, an exact copy of an early DB5.

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Aston Martin

Some changes had to be made. The original replica machine-guns fired pyrotechnic blanks, which would have required reloading and which also sound exactly like real automatic gunfire—a characteristic that may have caused owners some legal difficulties. The Continuation’s barrels simulate fire with a mechanized recoil action and ultra-bright LEDs, but their loudspeaker soundtrack (taken straight from Goldfinger) is much more subdued than an actual Browning .303 would be. The oil slick is actually water, and the tire slashers come in a presentation case and can’t be fitted to the car, due to a corporate desire not to abet actual murder. And although the red button within the flip-open gear shifter is present, there isn’t an ejector seat on the passenger side, not even an under-seat cattle prod. (The asymmetric sunroof aperture is still present, though.) The gadgets can be operated by a control panel between the seats or, to better appreciate them when the car is stationary, through a remote control pack.
Another small issue is the one indicated by the proviso that has been scrupulously added to every official release about the Goldfinger Continuation: “Please note, this car is not road legal.” The fact that we drove the prototype on a route made up of some of England’s more picturesque public highways indicates there is some wriggle room in that restriction. Two companies in Britain are already offering to officially register Aston’s earlier Continuation models for street use in Europe. But unless you can find and exploit some serious motor-vehicle-department loopholes, it seems unlikely you will be able to enjoy this particular DB5 in the United States on anything other than your expansive private estate.

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Aston Martin

And that would seem to largely miss the point. Because while the gadgets are fun to play with, the core appeal of the Goldfinger is definitely the box-fresh DB5 that gets to haul them all around. This isn’t a restomod; beyond changes to accommodate the toys, nothing has been changed. So, the 4.0-liter straight-six engine breathes noisily through triple carburetors, the feeble ventilation system bringing the enticing smell of gasoline under gentle use. The steering is both unassisted and low geared, heavy around a parking lot but becoming almost too light at speed. And the chassis manages to be too hard and too soft, crashing over some apparently minor imperfections but delivering lurid body roll under even modest cornering loads. Which, you soon realize, are all the period-sized Avon Turbospeed tires are capable of handling. Small wonder Sean Connery had so much difficulty outrunning Goldfinger’s goons in their wimpy W120 Mercedes 180s.
None of this matters in the slightest. This is an entirely authentic DB5 driving experience. The flaws both add character and prove originality. They also serve to emphasize some of the DB5’s other strengths. The seating position is high and requires the driver to squeeze around the vast wooden-rimmed steering wheel, but there can be few better automotive views than the panorama through the wraparound windscreen and over the voluptuous curves of the hood, a full set of chrome-bezeled Smiths instruments in the foreground. Performance is plenty brisk thanks to 290 horsepower and 288 pound-feet of torque, the big six feeling impressively strong in its broad midrange and generating more than enough acceleration to easily outpace modern traffic. The five-speed manual gearbox is another highlight. Aston got ZF to dust off the original drawings to produce a new batch. But the gearchanges are now crisper and better-feeling than the vague shift actions common at the time.

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Aston Martin

Despite its devotion to speed, the DB5 is also a thoroughly nice way to travel not very quickly. Bond’s Aston comes from an era when cruising comfort and speed were prioritized over outright dynamic performance. At 60 mph with the electric windows lowered to dispel the heat being produced by the big engine, the cabin is remarkably calm, much more so than it would be in a modern alternative. This is one of those cars that delivers fun without breaking a single speed limit.
The accusation of having more money than sense is normally applied as an insult, yet the implied equation merely states that cash needs to outplay caution. You would have to be obscenely rich to even consider spending more than the $3.5 million Aston will charge for a DB5 Goldfinger Continuation. But for those who are sufficiently loaded and have scratched every other automotive whim, buying James Bond’s Aston Martin seems to us like an entirely justified thing to do.

Specifications

Specifications
2020 Aston Martin DB5 Goldfinger Continuation
VEHICLE TYPE front-engine, rear-wheel-drive, 2+2-passenger, 2-door coupe
BASE PRICE $3,523,677
ENGINE TYPE DOHC 12-valve inline-6, aluminum block and head, 3×2 carburetorsDisplacement 244 in3, 3996 cm3Power 290 hp @ 5500 rpmTorque 288 lb-ft @ 3850 rpm
TRANSMISSION 5-speed manual
DIMENSIONS Wheelbase: 98.0 inLength: 180.2 inWidth: 66.6 inHeight: 53.1 inTrunk volume: 11 ft3Curb weight (C/D est): 3850 lb
PERFORMANCE (C/D EST) 60 mph: 7.3 sec1/4 mile: 15.1 secTop speed: 145 mph
EPA FUEL ECONOMY (C/D EST) Combined/city/highway: 14/12/18 mpg

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From the February 1989 issue of Car and Driver.
There’s a sequence in Out of Africa in which Robert Redford buzzes a clearing in a biplane, thumps down, and taxis up to his startled paramour, Meryl Streep. Delighted, she marvels at his unexpected arrival at the controls of an airplane:
“Where did you get it?”
“Mombasa.”
“When did you learn to fly?”
“Yesterday.”

DICK KELLEY

Well, hedgehoppers, that’s Nissan. It, too, just learned to fly. Or relearned. From the Maxima (C/D September 1988) to the 300ZX (check here next month) to this 240SX, all of Nissan’s new fliers tower with talent—as its legendary 240Z did under the Datsun banner two decades ago.
In 1969 the original Z-car, quick and light and looking right, captured the imaginations of the world’s sports-car fanatics. In a creative coup, Nissan perfectly conceived its two-seater coupe for its perfectly perceived market. The 240Z took flight with a near-ballistic rush that left its foes rocking in their wheel chocks.
Yet from the mid-seventies to the mid-eighties, Nissan squandered its well-deserved dynamic reputation. Its sporty models grew glitzy, and its lesser models became mundane. Meanwhile, Honda blitzed new trails in excellence, Mazda licked the edges of the performance envelope, and Toyota hung on as Japan’s biggest car company. By 1988, Nissan had fallen from second place among imports in U.S. car sales. Luckily, new Nissan management had already begun to trim its lineup of flabby underpinnings and blasé bodywork.

DICK KELLEY

This is now, and the 240SX is Nissan. The new 240, though not directly related to the original, is also a car to lust after—unlike the 200SX it replaces. The 240’s trappings, from its voluptuous lines to its worthy innards, showcase Nissan’s reborn enthusiasm. A trip in the SX proves that, just as with the original 240Z, a flight in a well-trimmed craft brings its pilot great joy.
The 240SX steps up to the needs of the 1990s with all the right stuff. It contains a new, naturally aspirated, twelve-valve, 2.4-liter four-cylinder instead of the 200SX’s naturally aspirated V-6 or four-cylinder turbo. The SX handsomely houses the new engine amid lighter weight and better handling; Nissan’s engineers may have relearned flying overnight, but they weren’t born yesterday.
Nissan’s new managers cleverly insisted on retaining the 200SX’s basic rear-drive layout. The 240 makes the most of it with a new rear suspension. Its multilink design offers welcome self-stabilizing characteristics and precise handling—areas where the 200’s higher weight, narrower tracks, and less accomplished tires showed a weaker grip on theory and road alike. The new suspension design—similar to that finalized for the next 300ZX—easily provides almost any mix of agility and stability that Nissan cares to dial in. It delivers increasingly benign toe-in as cornering loads grow. It minimizes squat, lift, camber change, and jacking for flatter handling without stiffer springs and bushings. The 240’s front suspension retains the 200’s strut layout but includes more anti-dive.

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DICK KELLEY

Anybody seeking joy in an automobile’s handling, meaning all of us with hands caressing the wheel and feet hot to trot for thrills underfoot, will find exceptional dynamics in the SX—perfect for a lively model that Nissan flatly proclaims a sports car.
Like the old 240Z, the SX gives a terrain-hugging ride but masterful control. Like such recent fighter-tough, society-slick fliers as the BMW 750iL, the Peugeot 405Mi16, and the Plymouth Laser and Mitsubishi Eclipse turbos, the 240SX feels lighter than the scales say it should. It weighs 2798 pounds, but its deft controls and cheery bent for changing direction belie its mass, subtracting about 400 pounds from its feel.
Until you take the controls, the only clues that times have changed at Nissan lie in the 240SX’s bodywork. It comes as either a fastback, the SE, or a blocky notchback, the XE. Nissan styling clinics show public preference split 50-50.

DICK KELLEY

Both cars wear four-wheel disc brakes, but the fastback will soon offer an ABS system. Our SX was equipped with a sport package, optional only on the fastback. It includes fore-and-aft spoilers, a firmer suspension, alloy wheels, and tires fattened from 195/60R-15 all-weather skins to 205/60HR-15 performance rubber with better dry grip. From the same option box: cruise control and a leather-wrapped shifter and wheel.
Every 240 turns up with linear rack-and-pinion power steering. Nissan keeps communications between car and driver open and direct. No variable-assist or variable-ratio monkey-motion muddies the messages. Wound tight, the 240’s steering produces a snug 30.8-foot turning circle, good for superb tuckability in gridlock wars and parking snarls. Yet the guileless steering and almost unflappable chassis allow exhibitions of gripping behavioral magic. Blend this natural gift of grab with 0.83-g skidpad cornering, thanks to Bridgestone Potenza RE88s, and the 240SX helps you look like the most masterful conducteur de l’auto this side of Alain Prost.
Nissan fits in the SX almost every control that a master driver, an advanced amateur, or a really rank beginner could want. The dash layout, simple and thor0ugh, surpasses most others in both its appearance and its function. Barely a stretch of the driver’s mind or muscle distracts from the driving. A digital speedometer with head-up display lurks on the options list, but bypass it for thefine standard analog array-whose largetach and speedometer dials dominate the central bulge of the instrument pod.Small coolant-temp and fuel-level gauges nest in the pod’s outer corners.They fill perfectly the viewing space framed by the sport wheel-whose horizontal spokes join the rim a bit too low for best hand placement. Embedded in the wheel are membrane buttons for de-cently coordinated cruise controls,though the spoke-mounted buttons prove less handy than, say, Honda’s hub-mounted buttons or the stalk-activated designs from BMW and Mercedes-Benz.

DICK KELLEY

The 240’s console houses climate controls capable of all but rainmaking. Stereo components fill most of the leftover space above the snickety-snick five-speed stick or the lever for the optional four-speed automatic (whose gear ratios drew mixed reviews). Our SX’s radio fronted a clean layout and large soft-touch but-tons, but it didn’t pick up signals cleanly.As for onboard music, an optional Sony compact-disc player stood in for an also-optional cassette deck, but after hearing the four speakers’ poor AM/FM sound we didn’t bother trying any CDs. Still, based on Nissan’s studious attention to finer details in our prototype SX, we suspect the sound system in production-line 240s will not fall on its woofers.
The 240SX’s two-plus-two seating provides legroom for four if the two in back tape in at 24 inches head-to-toe and say “goo-goo” a lot. Up front, adults sit in a fashion more appropriate to front-cabin status. Despite supportive appearances, though, the deep buckets—even in their most upright position lean back quite far and offer so-so padding.Nissan, unlike most purveyors of automatic seatbelts, positions the inboard latches close beside the hips of front occupants, so you regain some support sacrificed by the lackluster seats. The backseat flops forward to add cargo length to the shallow hidden trunk, which stretches wider and longer than expected.
Braking performance also stretches long for a sporting car. The pedal feels fine during hard road driving, but all-out stops from 70 mph–even with consider-able pedal modulation-chew up 195feet. We anticipate shorter stops from SEs fitted with the promised ABS system.
The 2.4-liter SOHC four, with port fuel injection plus one exhaust and two intake valves per cylinder, growls out 140 hp. The 240SX equals the old V-6-powered 200SX’s 0-to-60-mph run of 8.6 seconds and zips a quarter-mile in
16.4 seconds at 83 mph. But soon there-after it quits abruptly: Nissan fits a top-speed governor to keep down buyers’ car-insurance costs. The power stops Iu!r-thunk! at a claimed 112 mph-though our 240SX took a nose dive at a true 107mph. Otherwise, the SX’s willing engine and slick body felt capable of knocking off 120 mph, its chassis even more.(Word is out-heh-heh-that snipping one engine-parameter wire disconnects the annoying cutout.)
Aiming to deliver 60,000 240SXs this year, Nissan pegs the base prices at$12,999 for the notchback and $13,199for the fastback-low bucks, but subject to added option costs. Moreover, several faster machines skulk on both sides of today’s exchange rates. Take the PlymouthLaser and Mitsubishi Eclipse turbo two-seaters: two seconds quicker from 0 to 50, about 35 mph faster up top, but barely costlier. Such machines may not keep a lid on running costs, and they will not bend into corners as rewardingly as the240SX, but you pays yer money and you takes yer turns as you please.
A note of guidance: Nissan insiders hint that an unrepentantly quick 240SX is well on the road to final development. The 240’s layout already seems so good that we humbly suggest a 50-percent power boost. Once and for all, Nissan, are you men or mice, ninjas or nice?

Specifications

VEHICLE TYPE: front-engine, rear-wheel-drive, 2 + 2 passenger, 3-door coupe
PRICE AS TESTED: $16,108
ENGINE TYPE: SOHC inline-4, iron block and aluminum head, port fuel injection
Displacement: 146 cu in, 2389 ccPower: 140 hp @ 5600 rpmTorque: 152 lb-ft @ 4400 rpm
TRANSMISSION: 5-speed manual
DIMENSIONS:Wheelbase: 97.4 inLength: 178.0 inWidth: 66.5 in Height: 50.8 inCurb weight: 2798 lb
C/D TEST RESULTS:Zero to 30 mph: 2.6 secZero to 60 mph: 8.6 secZero to 90 mph: 20.0 secTop gear, 30-50 mph: 11.1 secTop gear, 50-70 mph: 11.4 secStanding ¼-mile: 16.4 @ 83 mphTop speed: 107 mphBraking, 70-0 mph: 195 ftRoadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.83 g
FUEL ECONOMY:EPA city/highway: 20/26 mpgC/D observed: 23 mpg

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From the May 2005 issue of Car and Driver.
Japanese love a good obento, which is a select assortment of traditional delicacies served in a bento box, a compartmentalized tray with high walls to prevent intermingling of foodstuffs. Perhaps that’s why you can’t buy the same feisty Mitsubishi Colt Turbo hatchback in both Europe and Japan, or the nifty six-passenger Mitsubishi Grandis wagon in the U.S. Intermingling has risky consequences. It’s bad obento.

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At least there’s the Lancer Evolution, which Mitsubishi spreads like sinus-clearing wasabi across the world to spice up its lackluster image. For 2006, the Lancer Evolution’s generational odometer rolls over from the current Evo VIII, on sale since 2003, to the Evo IX. Accordingly, this rigid, noisy, spartan, all-wheel-drive son-of-a-rally-car gets new front and rear bumpers, aero tweaks, nattier seats, and lighter alloy wheels. And along with that it gets a 10-hp boost to 286, mostly from a new-to-Evo variable-valve-timing system.
Timing is everything, as we discovered with our own test gear strapped onto a six-speed Evo IX MR at Mitsubishi’s Okazaki track. It’s a postage stamp of grass and asphalt ribbons enveloped by the dense suburbs near Nagoya, Japan, and home to Evo development since the Evo II in 1992. With the Evo IX MR, we saw 60 mph in 4.6 seconds and the quarter-mile in 13.4 seconds at 104 mph, the fleetest sprinting we’ve garnered from any stock Evo.

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Oh, but you were expecting more than new bumpers and 10 added horses for the Evo IX? The name is “Evolution,” after all, and it is indeed evolving toward an all-new Evo X set to arrive late in 2007. That would be shortly after the debut of a redesigned Lancer sedan on a new platform dubbed GS.
Meanwhile, be content with the same three Evo flavors as before-the trim-stripped RS and the base Evo, both with five-speed manuals, plus the six-speed Evo MR with Bilstein shocks and forged BBS wheels. We’re told to expect a $500 bump of the current base prices (starting at $29,074 for the RS) when pricing is announced for the September on-sale date.
Inside are aluminum pedals (except in the RS) and redesigned seats. A faux-carbon-fiber panel adorns the dash. Cloth is gone; pseudo-suede center panels are now bordered by leather bolsters. All-leather seats are an option.

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Outside, a new front bumper fights aerodynamic lift with an available chin spoiler that increases the low-pressure zone under the nose. Two oval nostrils in the bumper help the intercooler by ramming fresh air around its input and output pipes. In back, the carbon-fiber airfoil can be had with a Gurney flap, a thin wing extension that increases downforce to the rear.

Specifications

SPECIFICATIONS
2006 Mitsubishi Lancer Evolution IX
VEHICLE TYPEFront-engine, 4-wheel-drive, 5-passenger, 4-door sedan
PRICE AS TESTED $35,700 (estimated base price: $35,700)
ENGINE TYPE Turbocharged and intercooled DOHC 16-valve inline-4, iron block and aluminum head, port fuel injectionDisplacement: 122 in3, 1997 cm3Power: 286 hp @ 6500 rpmTorque: 289 lb-ft @ 3500 rpm
TRANSMISSION 6-speed manual
DIMENSIONSWheelbase: 103.3 inLength: 178.5 inWidth: 69.7 inHeight: 57.1 inCurb weight: 3300 lb
C/D TEST RESULTSZero to 60 mph: 4.6 secZero to 100 mph: 11.9 secStanding ¼-mile: 13.4 sec @ 104 mphBraking 70-0 mph: 155 ft
FUEL ECONOMYEPA fuel economy, city driving: 19 mpg

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From the October 2006 issue of Car and Driver.
There’s been a lot of talk on internet chatrooms lately about whether the new AMG 6.2-liter naturally aspirated V-8 engine is an improvement over the supercharged 5.4-liter V-8 that was an AMG staple—particularly, if the new car is quicker or slower off the mark. Well, the answer is yes and no, at least on the evidence of the CLS63 AMG that we have been stylin’ in of late. The 6.2-liter V-8 makes 507 horsepower in the CLS, up from 469 hp in the old CLS55 AMG. Torque is down, though, from 516 pound-feet to 465 lb-ft. More power usually results in better top-end performance, whereas more torque normally means quicker mid-range and off-the-line acceleration.

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To a certain extent, that’s what our numbers show. The CLS63 gets to 60 mph from rest in a blistering 4.1 seconds, a tenth quicker than the CLS55, but is identical otherwise up to 120 mph and shares a 12.6-second quarter-mile time. The 30-to-50 and 50-to-70-mph figures show the benefits of the supercharged motor’s fatter torque curve (2.2 and 2.5 seconds, respectively, compared with 2.5 and 3.1 for the CLS63), while the extra top-end grunt of the 63 comes into play above 120 mph. By 150 mph, the CLS63 is ahead by almost a second and a half.
So, apart from marginally better performance away from a stop light and in go-to-jail-fast territory, what are the benefits of the new engine? Well, it sounds absolutely fantastic, especially as it nears the 7200-rpm redline. (Yeah, that’s right: a 6.2 liter V-8 that spins past seven grand.) The loud, guttural growl is a bit too intoxicating, because the desire to hear a blaring soundtrack makes it all too easy to stray into triple-digit temptation. It really does pickup and go past 100 mph.
The seven-speed automatic transmission is as smooth as a luxury-car salesperson, not to say that the old five-speeder was bad. More important, manual shifting is now effected by a pair of paddles on the back of the steering wheel—right for upshifts, left for down—in place of the buttons in the CLS55.
Other important mechanical changes are fitment of AMG’s new sport suspension and revised brakes. The vented and cross-drilled front rotors are now 14.2 inches in diameter (up from 14.0 inches) and the front calipers have six instead of eight pistons. At the back, there are 13.0-inch-diameter discs and four-piston calipers. The AMG suspension is a recalibrated version of Mercedes’ Airmatic air-spring setup, which works in conjunction with the so-called Adaptive Damping System. Just like the system in the E-class, it has driver selectable settings, none of which are perfect. The sportiest setting beats you up over bad pavement and the comfiest one doesn’t offer enough body control.
Still, the CLS63 has lots of grip, decent steering, and is very entertaining once the traction control is turned off and the throttle is mashed. It isn’t quite as sweet a chassis as a BMW M5’s, but the CLS has the advantage of a fine automatic transmission in place of the M5’s clunky Sequential Manual Gearbox and a torquier, more compelling engine. Only serious AMG-heads are going to be able to spot the difference between this one and the CLS55. Discreet 6.3 AMG badges on the flanks and tail are the only real external clues, while there is a new instrument cluster and a fabulous, race-car-like steering wheel. Otherwise, the gorgeous CLS shape and lush interior remain. Why mess with success?
The only real drawback of this car is the sticker: $95,575 base, with an as-tested price of $100,805. It’s a lot of dough, sure, but the combination of the CLS shape and the rocking new AMG powertrain make this is a sweet ride for the whiz-kids of this world.

Specifications

SPECIFICATIONS
2007 Mercedes-Benz CLS63 AMG
VEHICLE TYPE Front-engine, rear-wheel-drive, 4-passenger, 4-door sedan
PRICE AS TESTED $100,805 (base price: $95,575)
ENGINE TYPE DOHC 32-valve V-8, aluminum block and heads, port fuel injectionDisplacement: 379 in3, 6208 cm3Power (SAE net): 507 bhp @ 6800 rpmTorque (SAE net): 465 lb-ft @ 5200 rpm
TRANSMISSION 7-speed automatic with manumatic shifting
DIMENSIONSWheelbase: 112.4 inLength: 194.0 inWidth: 73.7 inHeight: 54.7 inCurb weight: 4366 lb
C/D TEST RESULTSZero to 60 mph: 4.1 secZero to 100 mph: 9.8 secZero to 150 mph: 23.5 secStreet start, 5-60 mph: 4.4 secStanding ¼-mile: 12.6 sec @ 114 mphTop speed (governor limited): 158 mphBraking, 70-0 mph: 163 ftRoadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.87 g
FUEL ECONOMYEPA fuel economy, city/highway: 13/20 mpgC/D-observed fuel economy: 13 mpg

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From the October 2005 issue of Car and Driver.
The obvious part of the formula is obviously far from new: Cram a big ol’ V-8 in there, make the car go faster. Detroit has been doing this since the ’60s. But what may not be so obvious is that there’s a big asterisk to the formula when you start applying it to a front-wheel-drive car. The footnote reads something like this: “Put enough power through a front-drive system, and the driver will find himself turning right or left when he was planning on straight ahead.”

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It’s called torque steer, and it’s the major limiting factor in front-drive performance cars. Despite various engineering advances, the problem persists in cars such as Acura’s otherwise superb TL, which sends 270 horsepower through a six-speed manual transmission to the front wheels via a helical limited-slip differential. But in the Grand Prix GXP, with more horsepower (303 at 5600 rpm) and a lot more torque (323 pound-feet at 4400 rpm), torque steer is not a serious issue. There are hints-a little tugging when the driver cracks the throttle at low speed-but no real wrestling.
How’d they do that? By adopting a measure no one else has ever put into production. More in a minute. But first, another front-engine, front-drive problem, one that’s even more chronic than torque steer. With a design that puts all the heavy powertrain hardware up front, front-drive cars invariably have a pronounced forward weight bias, 64/36 percent in this case. As a consequence, the front wheels carry more than their fair share of the car’s mass, diluting the ability of the tires to transmit steering inputs. Worse, the front tires are also required to transmit power to the pavement, and all things being equal, the poor things just can’t handle their multiple assignments as well as the front tires of rear-drive cars. The result is understeer. The faster the driver herds the car into a turn, the more it wants to go straight.

Highs: Mellow V-8 rumble, plentiful V-8 torque, excellent road manners.

Pontiac’s solution to these two inherent front-drive directional control problems-understeer and torque steer-is unique. Instead of four tires of equal size, the GXP has a lot more rubber up front than at the rear: Bridgestone Potenza RE050As, 255/45-18 front, 225/50-18 rear.
“We wanted a car to run with BMWs,” says program engineering manager Phil Minch. “But we were limited by the W-car architecture, in other words, by front-wheel drive.
“The rear end never lets go when you have the same size tires all around. So we put our computer guys on it, and they came back with a recommendation for a smaller rear tire, to give the car better balance.”
This is a radical departure from conventional wisdom, and the idea proved out in initial testing. But there was a nasty side effect: Increasing the contact patch at the front amplified torque steer. However, after experimenting with a number of different tires from a variety of manufacturers, Minch and company decided the problem lay in the tire’s construction-the way the plies were wrapped-and not the footprint. With sufficient application of power, the tire sidewalls distort, thus affecting directional stability.

AARON KILEY

Bridgestone, the supplier of choice, was initially reluctant to accept this theory, but when the GXP team achieved improved results using an off-the-shelf tire from another maker, the Bridgestone people got to work and developed a tire that delivered the desired performance.
Other elements of the GXP package include Bilstein monotube front struts–a first for a front-drive GM car, according to Minch–and forged aluminum 18-inch wheels (8.0-inch-wide front, 7.0 rear), a stouter rear anti-roll bar, and a 0.4-inch reduction in static ride height versus the old GTP Competition Group.
Still another challenge was fitting the 5.3-liter V-8 into an engine bay originally conceived for a transverse V-6. Although GM has flirted with this idea in the past–our man Csere drove a Chevy Lumina mule with V-8 power more than 10 years ago–it wasn’t as easy as simply greasing the thing up and cramming it in there. The powertrain troops had to develop a tidier version of the 5.3, achieved by creating a unique edition of the block with a shorter crank, a single-belt accessory drive, and a starter mounted on the transmission rather than on the engine block.
The net of the redesign was a reduction in overall length of “about an inch,” according to Minch, which was enough.
The transplant also required mods to the 4T65-E four-speed automatic to handle the extra torque and a three-point engine-mount system designed to damp the V-8’s torque rotation at full throttle.
Pared down, the 5.3 V-8 met the assembly parameters–it installs from beneath–and provided an extra payoff at the scales. The all-aluminum V-8 is actually lighter than the supercharged iron-block 3.8-liter from the old GTP.

Lows: Hints of torque steer, hefty curb weight, high steering effort at low speed.

But how does it stack up in terms of Pontiac’s BMW objective? Let’s be clear. This ain’t a BMW. It’s not as agile as the sports-sedan pacesetters from Bavaria, and even though the unique tire stagger puts the GXP’s responses much closer to neutral, the Pontiac’s defining trait is still mild understeer. The four-speed TAPshift manumatic is better than some we’ve experienced, leaving upshift decisions totally in the hands of the driver, but the transmission offers only four speeds to play with. The engine’s torque band is so broad, and the transmission’s up- and downshifting so prompt in full automatic mode, that the driver can achieve pretty much the same levels of haste by simply putting the lever in D and leaving it there.
That said, the GXP is not without some appealing traits. If it’s not quite BMW eager in transient response, it’s not too far off the curve, and if the GM Magnasteer II system is artificially heavy at low speeds, it’s quick (2.4 turns lock to lock) and accurate, with effort that lightens as velocities climb. The GXP turned in a ho-hum 0.82 g on the skidpad, but real-world grip feels better than that, and as Minch and his cohorts hoped, a driver can induce a little oversteer. And braking performance–174 feet from 70 mph, and zero fade–is on par for this class. The net is a forgiving and capable four-door, arguably the most entertaining sedan Pontiac has ever offered.
There are some interior elements that enhance the entertainment. The front buckets, for example, are close to BMW territory in comfort and support, and the grippy steering wheel and nicely sized shift buttons enhance the sense of driver involvement. The head-up display is effective for keeping track of speed without glancing down, and the center-dash info display even includes a g-meter. Unfortunately, the latter will only deliver its readings–accel, decel, and lateral–when the car is stopped. Thus, the driver can only see the peak numbers achieved during his most recent stretch of road, rather than what’s going on in real time. Minch admits the GXP team made the mistake of checking with the liability lawyers before programming the g-meter display.

The Verdict: A cool idea that would have been even cooler a decade earlier.

An intriguing footnote to this front-drive breakthrough is that it won’t be immediately applied to other GM offerings. The 2006 Chevy Impala SS, for example, gets the 5.3-liter V-8, but the package will use equal-size tires all around and won’t have the Bilsteins.
With an as-tested price of $31,135 (base, $29,995), the GXP is on a more or less equal price footing with some compelling competitors-the Acura TL, the BMW 325i, the Infiniti G35. And that adds up to a tough sell. But this is GM, remember, the discount leader. We checked the company’s latest sales ploy-everybody gets the GM employee discount-and came up with a GXP base of $24,696. At that price, this good-looking all-American is tough to resist.
Counterpoint
Here is a car that depicts the difference between soccer and football, between Peter Pan and Terry Bradshaw. The GXP has brute force that can be summoned instantly, a pugnacious snarl, and a chassis that didn’t go to Harvard. Very American, and very likable in a roughhouse, bawdy sort of way. If you wear your baseball cap backward, this Bud’s for you. Look for owners to drive by in the hip-hop position, heads behind the B-pillar. And yet the GXP corners and handles well, isn’t overly teched up like the Euros, looks bad-ass in black, and the price is right. It’s one of the most memorable sporting American sedans I’ve driven in a gawdawful long time. —Steve Spence
Skeptical is not a strong enough word to describe the brain waves circulating after taking in the GXP’s spec sheet: 303 horsepower driving which wheels, you say? And a four-speed automatic? A taller final drive actually makes the GXP civilized and not the supreme burnout machine I expected. This V-8 makes nothing but good noises and lots of torque, but how does gearing a car to go over 100 mph in second gear make sense? Come on, a closely spaced six-speed could have smoked the porky Hemi Charger. Five years ago, I think Pontiac would have been on to something. Nowadays, the similarly priced Charger R/T seems like a no-brainer. —Dave VanderWerp
In the early ’90s, I drove an experimental Chevy Lumina whose front wheels were powered by a Chevy V-8. I found it to be splendid. At long last GM has put that concept on sale with this GXP, and it still works. As it has for decades, the V-8 delivers effortless performance to this front-driver, and the GXP copes gracefully with the power. One reason is front tires that are larger than the rears. This makes sense, given that the front tires must steer and propel the car while carrying 76-percent more weight than the rears do. There’s still a whiff of clumsiness in this large, old platform, but if you crave V-8 power at a reasonable price, the GXP is worth a look. —Csaba Csere

Specifications

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From the January 1986 issue of Car and Driver.
Set your time control for 1979. Forget everything automotive you’ve experienced in the last six years. Let yourself drift back, back, all the way back to a time when one high-performance automobile in America stood head and shoulders above the rest.

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Six years ago, things looked grim for car enthusiasts. The feds’ emissions standards and a pair of fuel crises had just about squeezed the life out of hot cars—with one notable exception. Towering Colossus-like above the sea of gas-sipping econoboxes and throbbing diesels was the Porsche 930 Turbo. Its sheetmetal bulged like Arnold Schwarzenegger’s chest. Its engine had turbocharged lungs. It acceler­ated as if there were a Saturn booster strapped to its tail. It became the altar at which car nuts worshiped, and no one with even a few drops of 30-weight in his veins would ever forget it.
The 930 Turbo was the promise of a better tomorrow through turbocharging. But at the end of the 1979 model year, it was withdrawn from the U.S. market. The expense and the complexity of maintain­ing its power level while bringing its air-cooled engine into line with tightening emissions regulations were cited as the pri­mary cause of its demise. Its penchant for gasoline (it delivered only 12 mpg on the EPA city test), its high price, and its low sales volume were the nails in the coffin. America would have to get by with normal­ly aspirated 911s, or none at all.

RICHARD GEORGE

This was not easy news to take. Sure, the Turbo was beyond the reach of all but a few wealthy buyers. Its passing shouldn’t have meant a thing to the rest of us, but it did. That’s because the Porsche 930 Tur­bo transcended the realm of everyday cars and parts and suggested retail prices. It defined and dominated an era in automotive history.
It was inevitable that a car as coveted as the 930 would continue to find its way here through the gray market. It never went out of production, so a ready supply has been available for those with fat wallets; we test­ed a number of such cars ourselves. To thwart the gray-market traffic, Porsche went so far as to offer the 930’s voluptuous bodywork and revised chassis pieces as a big-buck option on the 911 Carrera.
As of this moment, all of these substi­tutes for the real thing are hereby declared obsolete. Porsche Cars North America is once again importing the most potent member of its rear-engined family, this time under the 911 Turbo name.

RICHARD GEORGE

The manufacturer’s reasons for its change of heart are simple and straightfor­ward. Porsche has finally recognized the full importance of the North American market, where more than half of its cars are sold. As a result, we will no longer be de­nied the best stuff, which has been heretofore reserved for Europe. The game plan is for Porsche to offer all of its model lines here, while making every attempt to equal­ize power levels worldwide. Last year, we were granted the four-valve-per-cylinder 928 before the German market got it. The 944 Turbo makes the same power wherev­er it’s sold. The 911 Turbo is the third step in that direction.
Importing the 911 Turbo is also the best way for Porsche to blunt the gray market and to channel the profits from U.S. sales into its own coffers. Why buy a privately federalized European-spec 911 Turbo, which might be hard to get parts for, when you can have a factory-fresh, EPA-ap­proved model with the full dealer warranty?
Corporate maneuvering aside, the best part of the deal is that a solid-gold, heart-thumping supercar has returned to our midst. It’s as if Ferrari had brought back the Daytona, or Ford had resurrected the Cobra. But is all the lore surrounding the mythical 930 Turbo grounded in reality, or have our warm memories been clouded by time and distance? Is the new 911 Tur­bo still the King Kong super ride of our de­mented dreams, or has automotive science passed it by? Only a test drive will tell.

To look a the new 911 Turbo is to stare right back into 1979. Only the keenest eye will notice that the rear tires now fill out the massive flared fenders a little more fully. The engineers have attacked the 930’s nasty tendency to wag its tail during hard cornering by specifying wider-than-ever, 245/45VR-16 Dunlop SP Sport D40 rear tires in place of the old car’s 225/50VR-16 rubber. The bigger tires are mounted on 9.0-inch wheels, which are an inch wider than before.
Precious few cars could live through six years without so much as a face lift, but the 911 Turbo has done just mat. This car has a sexier body than Madonna, and the years have dulled its charm not a whit. We sampled the 911 Turbo in the L.A. area, which has the highest per-capita number of winged and flared 911 s in the Western Hemisphere, but our red beast wowed me masses nonetheless. They still find this a spellbinding automobile, and far more folks man you’d expect went out of their way to let us know that.
Inside, me Turbo could be any 911 of recent vintage, but for a few minor details. A small boost gauge is incorporated into me tachometer at me six-o’clock position. Check me standard plastic shift knob and you’ll see mat the gear pattern stops at fourth. (Turbos have never been equipped with five-speeds by the factory.)
Aside from that, the Turbo is just a well-dressed 911. Soft, sweet-smelling leather is lavished on the cockpit, including the dash top. A full load of extras, from air to sunroof, are standard-just as you’d expect in a car mat comes in at a nice, round $48,000. But that’s it. No surprises or great advances have sprung up since we last saw mis model.
You won’t find any major changes under the whale tail, either. The 911 Turbo’s air-cooled flat six is basically the same one that tantalized us so much back in 1979. The turbocharged and intercooled powerplant still displaces 3.3 liters, and such details as its bore, stroke, and compression ratio remain unchanged.
The bottom line—the horsepower coming off me end of the crankshaft—is fatter than ever, though. Porsche’s data banks are six years richer with emissions-control knowledge, and it’s been put to good use in me 911 Turbo. The tweaking includes a three-way catalytic converter, an oxygen sensor, and electronic assistance for the Bosch mechanical fuel-injection system. In 1979, Porsche was carping about the difficulties of making its air-cooled powerplant comply with federal exhaust-emissions standards. Today, the engineers have made it comply, adding an impressive 29 hp in the bargain. They also managed to improve fuel economy by 33 percent, though the 911 Turbo’s 16 mpg still isn’t good enough to get it past the gas-guzzler law. This scrape with me tax man adds a $500 penalty to the car’s base price.
Nevertheless, if 1979 was a great year for turbocharged 911s, 1986 ought to be even better, right? Twenty-nine more horses, fatter tires, and six years of chassis development could only make things positively dreamy.
There’s certainly no shortage of promise when you get the proceedings under way. On a cool morning, the beat of the 911 Turbo’s idle will warm you faster than the heater. This engine sounds serious: lumpy and hoarse, with an occasional spit! Thrown in for good measure.

There’s no need to hound me 911 around town. Enough torque is on hand for easing along in thick L.A. traffic without fishing for boost. But look out the first time you decide to scoot away from a light. First gear is as steep as the north face of the Eiger—it’s good for 50 mph—and there’s no heavy thrust down low. A cheerleader in a clapped-out Mustang II will have no trouble beating you across an intersection while checking her makeup. As a matter of fact, one did exactly that to us.
Then the boost comes in as the revs go past 4500 rpm, the exhaust hisses like a very angry 3000-pound cat, and whoosh! you rattle the Mustang’s windows as you blow by.
On the freeway, locked in a clot of 65-mph traffic, the Turbo feels dead on its feet. Rolling along in fourth gear with the engine just ticking over, it’s a good five-count before the boost needle moves off of the peg. Drop down to third and it’s still a three-count before the rockets fire and you can blast through a hole into the next lane.
This is no fun. Your average Volvo 740 Turbo would be ten car-lengths down the passing lane by now. In truth, second gear, which goes all the way to 86 mph, is the way to deal with the freeway-but it’s kind of embarrassing, not to mention noisy, howling along at 4500 rpm just to have the horsepower on retainer.
We remember the 930 as having bags full of boost lag, but was it really this bad? Has turbo technology left this car—a Porsche—so hopelessly behind?
Our track testing indicated that something was probably wrong with our test car. Its clutch was definitely slipping, and we suspect that a waste-gate problem kept the engine from building boost quickly. This car also suffered a thrown A/C drive belt and a recalcitrant driver’s door during our testing, so it was not the best example of Porsche quality we’ve seen.
Further study was called for, so we traded our flaming-red 911 Turbo for a deep blue-metallic number (yes, you do see two different cars in the photos) and set off for the test track again. There was certainly nothing wrong this time around. Big horsepower, big rear tires, and a big rear-weight bias enabled our second test car to blowout of the hole like a cannon shot.
With a searing 0-to-60-mph run of 4.6 seconds and a clocking of 13.1 seconds at 105 mph through the quarter-mile, the 911 Turbo is most assuredly this season’s acceleration ace—providing you’re willing to resort to rough, wheel-spinning, drag-race starts.
Out on the road, though, these numbers pale next to the Turbo’s boost-lag arthritis. Even the healthier of our two test cars took forever to spin its turbo up to liftoff speed. Once it was up and running, it was plenty strong, but it just didn’t awe us the way the old 930 used to.
Then again, there’s more to our memories of the 930 than pure speed. It was also known as one of the trickiest handlers around. Driving one hard was a job for experts. Putting the power on aggressively in a corner would pitch the nose way up, and the 930 would try to run straight over its front tires. Lift off the gas just a few millimeters in these conditions and the 930 would swing sideways so fast, it would jump-start your heart.
Not so the new 911 Turbo. On the tortured curves of California’s Ortega Highway, it shows real poise. In the last six years it’s obviously been taught some manners. Antics that would have spun you out before hardly faze it. The brakes are superb. It’s still hard work to drive very, very fast, but it’s much more forgiving now.
Comparing this experience with our last 930 outing, in 1979, it’s clear that things have changed. The 930 was deadly in the curves and awesome on the straights, and the 911 Turbo is mellower in both areas.
This pass through the time barrier, the 911 Turbo’s performance just hasn’t blown our minds—and we think we know why. Back in 1979, there really wasn’t any other car in America that offered anywhere near the 930’s kind of speed. Today, however, we’re in the middle of a horsepower boom. We’ve got 157-mph 944 Turbos, 154-mph 928s, 151-mph Corvettes, 140-mph Camaros—hell, even Saab is in the 140-plus club these days.
Faced with these facts, we can draw no other conclusion than that the handwriting is on the wall for the 911 Turbo. Precious few cars can sprint with it, but the march of technology has produced a whole flock of turbo cars with much better manners. This is, no doubt, why Porsche is hard at work on a four-valve-per-cylinder version of this car, and why the awesome 959 prototype is fitted with a sophisticated twin-turbocharger setup.
But this is today-the here and now. Taking a cold, hard look at the 911 Turbo’s vexing return, we get the feeling that fond memory may have been better left undisturbed.

Specifications

Specifications
1986 Porsche 911 Turbo
VEHICLE TYPE rear-engine, rear-wheel-drive, 2+2-passenger, 2-door coupe
PRICE AS TESTED $49,720
ENGINE TYPE turbocharged and intercooled flat-6, aluminum block and headsDisplacement 201 in3, 3299 cm3Power 282 hp @ 5500 rpmTorque 278 lb-ft @ 4000 rpm
TRANSMISSION 4-speed manual
DIMENSIONS Wheelbase: 89.4 inLength: 168.9 inWidth: 69.9 inHeight: 51.6 inCurb weight: 3040 lb
C/D TEST RESULTS 60 mph: 4.6 sec100 mph: 11.9 secTop gear, 30–50 mph: 11.1 secTop gear, 50–70 mph: 11.4 sec¼-mile: 13.1 sec @ 105 mphTop speed: 155 mphBraking, 70–0 mph: 173 ftRoadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.82 g
C/D FUEL ECONOMY Observed: 13 mpg
EPA FUEL ECONOMY City/highway: 16/22 mpg

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From the December 2002 issue of Car and Driver.
Hard to believe, but no longer is a mere 349 horsepower de rigueur for a Mercedes E55 AMG. The company has decided nothing less than the supercharged V-8 of the ridiculously powerful SL55 AMG will do the job of intimidating the Teutonic heavy-metal opposition.
Just five years ago, about 350 horses established you as a credible tarmac-burning player. The BMW M5 raised the bar to 394, only to be recently overtaken by the twin-turbo Audi RS 6 with 450. Now it’s Mercedes’ turn to scorch the rankings.

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This most powerful E55 AMG ever, due in the U.S. in May, gets 34 percent more power and an extra 32 percent of pound-feet over the old, naturally aspirated, once seriously fast E55. It’s enough grunt to qualify this E55 as the quickest production sedan in the world. We estimate it will rip to 60 mph in 4.5 seconds, 0.1 second ahead of Audi’s claim for the RS 6 and 0.2 second quicker than the M5. And the rate of forward motion doesn’t slacken as the estimated 10.5 seconds to 100 mph suggests. All this with an automatic transmission, although you can shift gears manually using buttons behind the steering wheel. And get this: Assisted by an IHI belt-driven screw supercharger that spins at 23,000 rpm to a maximum pressure of 11.6 psi, the 5.4-liter V-8 produces a monstrous 516 pound-feet of torque from 2650 to 4500 rpm.

A word of explanation is needed here. The V-8 in the E55 is not exactly the same as the one in the SL55 AMG. Expect to be confused. At its launch, the SL55 produced the same figures as the E55. Then AMG found that 469 horsepower was at the very low end of the engine’s tolerances. So it had the V-8 that’s in the SL55 recertified at 493 horsepower. Now AMG admits that, due to differences in the induction geometry between the SL55 and E55 and the E55’s longer exhaust system, the E55 produces less horsepower. That longer exhaust system may account for the more subdued, less dominant, but still potent exhaust waffle that’s close to perfect for the sedan. Neither of which, apparently, makes any difference to the torque output. The E55 does have a slightly taller final-drive ratio than the SL55 (2.65 versus 2.82 for the sports car), but since the E55 weighs about 500 pounds less, we think it will be the quicker of the two.

Behind the wheel, it’s impossible not to play rally driver with this car. At least some of the time. Shift time is 35 percent quicker than a regular Mercedes automatic, and roughness increases by a similar amount. But because the tranny is adaptive, it quickly learns when the driver has backed off and then seemingly skims through the gears. You choose between sport and comfort modes (the latter replaces the old winter setting to provide second-gear starts).
It rained hard all day during our first outing in the E55. In the old 500E—Mercedes’ first supersedan—our day would have been punctuated by slipping and sliding. Yet driven fairly hard (as our 11-mpg average attests), the rear-drive E55 rarely stepped out of line, only the occasional flashing of the high-threshold electronic-stability-program warning light indicating a break in adhesion. Switch off the ESP, and you can light up the tires at will, and power oversteer becomes the norm. Yet the big heavy E55 remains remarkably controllable and agile and is still capable of generating plenty of understeer-biased cornering forces on wet roads, even if it lacks the massive security of the RS 6. Its quick (2.75 turns lock-to-lock) speed-sensitive steering has more feel and fluency and is beautifully weighted. Mercedes’ air suspension also endows a far better—even cosseting—ride than the Audi, provided you ignore the hardest of the three damper-and-spring settings, which relays every small bump and irregularity in the road. Stability is impressive, at least up to 125 mph, and we can tell you that the rain management of the body and wipers is terrific. The brakes, from the SL55 AMG, are electrohydraulic, as in all new E-class cars, and immensely powerful, but they require a sensitive touch for smooth modulation as the car comes to a halt.
The E55 interior is superbly equipped, spacious, and comfortable (apart from the ridiculously short receiving end of the seatbelts) if not quite as exquisitely built as an RS 6.
It’s another super-refined, super-subtle, supersedan from AMG. Except maybe this time the lack of visual distinctiveness is too discreet. There are the AMG three-section air inlets in the lower bumper, 18-inch alloys wearing suitably broad 245/40 and 265/35 rubber, and four oval chrome exhaust pipes. But the body would benefit from more macho massaging, especially for a car that will cost about $75,000.
It’s inevitable that one day there will be quicker sedans than the E55 AMG. But we can wonder if any will possess the same balance of refinement, poise, and performance that makes the E55 so brilliantly complete.

Specifications

SPECIFICATIONS
2003 Mercedes-Benz E55 AMG
VEHICLE TYPE Front-engine, rear-wheel-drive, 5-passenger, 4-door sedan
ESTIMATED BASE PRICE $75,000
ENGINE TYPE Supercharged and intercooled SOHC 24-valve V-8, aluminum block and heads, Bosch Motronic ME2.8.1 engine-control system with port fuel injectionDisplacement: 332 cu in, 5439ccPower (SAE net): 469 bhp @ 6100 rpmTorque (SAE net): 516 lb-ft @ 2650 rpm
TRANSMISSION 5-speed automatic with lockup torque converter
DIMENSIONSWheelbase: 112.4 in Length: 190.9 inWidth: 71.7 in Height: 50.9 inCurb weight: 3900 lb
C/D-ESTIMATED PERFORMANCEZero to 60 mph 4.5 secZero to 100 mph 10.5 secStanding 1/4-mile 12.4 secTop speed (governor limited) 156 mph
PROJECTED FUEL ECONOMYEPA city driving 14 mpgEPA highway driving 20 mpg

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From the November 2002 issue of Car and Driver.
A funny thing happened at the 1934 Eifelrennen race at the Nürburgring. Alfred Neubauer, the Zeppelinesque chief of the Mercedes team, directed his crew to grind off all the bone-white paint that distinguished the Benz factory racers.

2003 Mercedes-Benz SL55 AMG First Drive

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Hence the origin of silver as the German color for racing. But that’s not the point. Neubauer’s motive had nothing to do with aesthetics. In those days, the competition weight regs specified a maximum limit, rather than a minimum. Neubauer’s paint trick was designed to get the cars down below the max. The rulemakers set an upper limit, because they saw weight as a dynamic asset. A bigger car would have a bigger engine, and thus go faster. The objective was to slow the cars down. Ha.
This story came to mind early in our first lap of Wisconsin’s Road America racetrack in the new Mercedes SL55 AMG roadster. The Neubauer parable flickered in my mind’s eye like a prewar movie as I hit the rumble strips on the exit of Turn Five and started up the hill. Wow. Was ist los?
See, getting out there onto the exit curbing was not the intent upon entering the turn. First lap in a new car—and an expensive one at that—lots of power, cold tires, etc. Easy does it. But when the throttle went down at the apex, the car was across the track and onto that alligator curbing before you could say, “Götterdämmerung!”

Highs: Prodigious thrust, execujet style, execujet comfort.

This little tableau, reinforced by other examples of mass exerting its relentless influence, emerged as the overriding impression of an all-too-brief Road America experience, laid on by Mercedes-Benz as the finale of its North American SL55 AMG press launch. Given the car’s capabilities, it was certainly the right venue—long straights punctuated by hard braking and generally uncomplicated turns. No esses, no tricky transitions. Moreover, Mercedes had enlisted a platoon of pro road racers to demonstrate those capabilities as dramatically as possible. The demos came after we ordinary mortals had done a few laps, and with a light rain at the end of the session, this became quite dramatic, indeed.
But as we strapped on a new SL55 to head home, the nagging question persisted: What’s up with all this avoirdupois? The standard SL500 we tested last April was certainly no wraith. When the readouts on the C/D scales finally settled, the tally for that one stood at a resounding 4172 pounds. That’s SUV territory, but even so, the AMG version is heftier: 4411 pounds. What’s the deal? Weight is the enemy. These guys must know that.
Make no mistake, this is a formidable automobile, Moby Dick mass notwithstanding. Check the motivational specs: 493 horsepower at 6100 rpm, 516 pound-feet of torque manifesting itself along a wonderfully flat curve from 2650 to 4500 rpm. It’s the most potent Benz ever offered in North America, according to the manufacturer, and also the quickest factory Benz we’ve ever tested: 0 to 60 in 4.5 seconds, 0 to 100 in 10.9, the quarter-mile in 13 seconds flat at 110 mph.
In contrast, the SL500 tested in our April issue hit 60 mph in 5.8 seconds, 100 in 14.5, and covered the quarter in 14.3 seconds at 99 mph. The disparities seem minor on paper, but the real-world distinctions are dramatic. Crack the throttle, and this posh heavyweight lunges forward like a shark that’s been invited to nibble a chunk of Britney Spears. It dissects traffic like a superbike and exudes a sense of mechanical resentment when a soulless microchip arrests the rush at 156 mph.

There’s a corollary to the traffic-sorting prowess, incidentally. This car seems to stir up civilians like few others, and not always in a delighted (read “Lookit that!”) way. All too often we’d cruise past some joker only to find him angrily attached to the Benz’s rear bumper, somehow offended at being overtaken. We believe a similar emotion animated the people who divided Marie Antoinette into two unequal portions in 1793, and we furnish this observation as a public service to potential buyers: Caveat emptor.
But we were discussing the SL55’s power and its increased mass, and in fact the two are directly related. There is, for example, the weight of the AMG car’s supercharger and its air-to-water intercooler, the latter designed with its own separate supply of fluid. Made by IHI, the belt-driven supercharger is of the Lysholm type, with a Teflon-coated screw-style impeller delivering boost up to 11.6 psi. Quietly, too. No supercharger whine.
Although this is basically the same SOHC 24-valve aluminum V-8 used in the SL500, there are significant differences. The hand-assembled AMG version is stroked from 84 millimeters to 92, increasing displacement from 4966cc to 5439, and the forged aluminum pistons drop the compression ratio from 10.0:1 to 9:0:1, an anti-detonation measure. There are heavy-duty bearings with cross-bolted mains at the bottom end, plus a new sump and a more powerful oil pump. Top-end mods include double valve springs, reprofiled cams, and bigger intake and exhaust plumbing.
The supercharged eight feeds its power to a five-speed automatic transmission that incorporates an updated edition of the Mercedes SpeedShift manumatic. This one offers three modes—normal, winter, and manual. Its basic function is essentially the same as Chrysler’s AutoStick: Waggle the lever, and you can shift up or down, or operate in full automatic mode. Unlike AutoStick, the manual mode allows shifting via rocker switches mounted on the backs of the steering-wheel spokes. And unlike the other modes, selecting manual allows the driver to hold a particular gear right up to the rev limiter.

Lows: Full-size-SUV curb weight.

Consistent with the law of opposite and equal reactions—that which goes must stop—there’s also extra mass associated with the SL55’s braking apparatus. The rotors are big enough to double as manhole covers—14.2 by 1.3 inches in front, 13.0 by 0.9 in the rear, vented and cross-drilled at both ends. The diameters are bigger than the garden-variety SL’s, and the fronts are squeezed by eight-piston calipers.
Oddly enough, braking distances failed to match those recorded by the SL500, and by a bunch: 155 feet from 70 mph for the SL500, 175 for the SL55. Moreover, although we didn’t record any brake fade during our testing, we did encounter a squishy pedal while lapping Road America, even with all the electronic enhancements (Sensotronic Brake Control) incorporated into this system.
Grip doesn’t seem to be the problem. Although the SL55’s footprints are essentially the same as the SL500’s—the only difference is a slightly lower rear-tire profile (285/35ZR-18 versus 285/40ZR-18)—the AMG edition’s Pirelli P Zeros pulled a higher skidpad number: 0.91 g versus 0.88. So the SL55’s added mass seems the most likely braking-distance culprit.
Which brings us to this car’s all-around dynamics. Mercedes refers to its “catlike handling reflexes,” which is true—if you envision a cat the size of a Siberian tiger. The key to the SL55’s level cornering attitudes is the corporate Active Body Control electro-mechano-hydraulic almost-active suspension, recalibrated in this application for firmer responses without compromising ride quality. Although this sophisticated system can’t erase weight—it’s always there, always tangible—it manages that weight amazingly well, whether the car is clawing the pavement in a fast sweeper or unkinking a set of switchbacks. This kind of activity is abetted by the SL55’s speed-sensitive rack-and-pinion steering, which seems to deliver a little more tactile information than the SL500’s system, and by the availability of all that torque for blasting off corners.

The Verdict: Proof that heft and passion are not mutually exclusive.

As you’d expect, the SL55 is posh-plus inside, with all the hedonistic goodies that distinguish the SL500, which is far from a torture chamber itself, plus some AMG fillips such as a sport steering wheel, aluminum interior trim, Alcantara suede atop the instrument binnacle and in the headliner, a superb 10-speaker audio system, silver-face AMG instruments with red needles, and, the most seductive interior element, deep leather-clad power bucket seats with serious torso bolsters, for those moments when the owner feels moved—probably rare—to rub up against the limits of adhesion.
Why rare? Check the bottom line. With a base price of $118,295, including luxury and gas-guzzler taxes, the SL55 AMG starts $30,340 north of the SL500. Start adding extras such as Distronic auto-distancing cruise control ($2950), Parktronic proximity warning ($1035), the Panorama sunroof ($1800)—an interesting touch on a retractable hardtop convertible—and the tally escalates rapidly. All of which makes this an unlikely toy for young guys prone to red mist. The SL55 is an executive hot rod for folks with lots of disposable income and Kevlar-clad portfolios. So even though we wonder what this car could do if it shed about a thousand pounds, it’s probably irrelevant. Lose the sander, Herr Neubauer. Scraping the paint off this one ain’t gonna make much difference.
Counterpoint
Hmm, let’s see here. Supercar horsepower, a shape to die for, the trickest top in the land, and active suspension. Sounds like a study-hall dream car, and for the most part, it is. But why did Mercedes leave out an automatic-shifting manual gearbox? You know, the tranny you can get at the Ferrari or BMW store? For a slushbox, the SL’s automatic tranny is fine. But it’ll never provide the control or response that a manual tranny would. I can understand the omission in the standard SL, but the SL55 is supposed to be the supercar that packs the best of Mercedes’ vast engineering talent. Am I wrong to think a $123,000 car should have it all? —Larry Webster
Behold the German Ferrari. We didn’t think those buttoned-down, left-brain Deutschers had it in ’em, but this latest AMG accurately captures the otherworldly rocket-propelled acceleration and Gravitron cornering effects and even some of the charming quirks of a small-line Italian exotic. What corporate engineer could okay white-on-white gauge legends, for example? Sure, they’re invisible most of the time, but they look so cool when you can see them. And the driver’s vanity-mirror lid that obscures the mirror’s overhead light — that’s to prove this is a serious sports car, not a boudoir, right? Message received, through all four bellowing exhaust tips. —Frank Markus
A few years ago, I likened the Mercedes 500SL to a Duesenberg SJ because it occupied a nexus of performance, style, and luxury that seemed beyond modern, more narrowly focused cars. This new SL55 takes that SL concept into overdrive. Motivated by its velvety and vigorous blown V-8, the SL55 doesn’t just accelerate from one speed to another, it gobbles velocity in leaps and lunges. Despite its fleetness, this SL feels as substantial as any convertible on the market. And its swashbuckling styling, bolstered by AMG musculature, instantly conveys its patrician bloodlines to even the densest bystanders. What’s not to like about this 21st-century Duesenberg? —Csaba Csere
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