We could debate the exterior aesthetics
till the cows come home. Some of them clearly won’t be making it, though,
because they’ve ended up in the Merc. This is without doubt the most mentally
challenging cabin I’ve ever sat in, and not because of the quilted Berlin
burlesque club red leather on the seats and dash. Two configurable TFT screens
dominate your field of vision, and offer up a banquet of sub-menus on which to
gorge. There are six swivelling air vents. The satnav features terrain
modelling and astonishingly rendered graphics. There are cameras all over the
car, and the image relayed to the screen is so clear you can count the blades
of grass outside. The Burmester hi-fi has 24 speakers, and is unequivocally the
best in-car audio I’ve ever clapped ears on, not least because the separation
is so stunning you can actually tell what the girl is saying at the start of
Pink Floyd’s ‘Comfortably Numb’.
Power
for the S63 comes from a twin-turbocharged 5.5-litre V8 engine
Which brings me to the AMG’s driving
dynamics. This is a big, heavy car with a 582bhp twin-turbo V8, so it’s
obviously rapid. But there are all sorts of rapid on offer here, which makes
the S63 a fascinating car to be around. It will settle into the most elegant of
cruises, an isolated two-tonne cocoon, but it plays hard, too. Its Magic Body
Control uses cameras to scan ahead and adjust the ride accordingly. Factor in
its active curve control thingy, which leans the air suspension in the
direction of travel, and you have a car that can defy the trickiest undulations
of a Welsh B-road as slyly as a Vegas card sharp in a poker game. It’s
brilliant. There’s so much electro-trickery going on that the S63 could well be
helpless (or at least a vast handful) without it all engaged – there’s too much
to list here, and not all of it makes sense. Dunsfold is the place for that
voyage of discovery. Who knows, I might like its rubbery steering a bit more
there, too.
The
Wraith is powered by a twin-turbo V12 that displaces 6.6 litres
The arrival of an unmarked Vauxhall
Insignia VXR estate – a sure-fire plod-mobile – is a further gentle reminder
that this car is so suavely fast that it could easily hang your arse out to dry
without you even noticing. Not a defence that any judge would wear, as far as
I’m aware. Time for some more calming Floyd.
The Wraith soothes all by itself. Now is
not the time to point out its resemblance to the Seventies Ford Granada Coupe,
but everything else about this wondrous motor car is life-enhancingly unique.
You don’t shut its vast rear-hinged driver’s door, you walk it to the chassis.
The main instrument dials are lacquered black on a cream background, and are as
perfectly restrained as the Merc’s are OTT. An analogue clock defies the TFT
revolution. And the wood trim – yards and yards of it – sends that oldest of
luxury car tropes to rehab.
The
F-Type’s engine is breathtakingly charismatic
The Wraith places an equally old-fashioned
emphasis on driving etiquette. If not quite a leviathan, it’s certainly a big
machine, and that means you must plan ahead like you would in a classic. It
sighs along on its air suspension, more of a hustler than seems proper, an
accurate, satisfying steer despite the lightness of its set-up, and capable of
summoning up huge forward momentum from that quad-cam V12, gobbling air like an
organ’s bellows. But it’s just as alluring as a static object.
There are no losers here, of course. I
choose the Merc for the drive down to this month’s monumental cover shoot, just
off the M6 toll road. The sun is sinking, and the Wraith is ahead, a vast
galleon filling the S63’s windscreen. Behind me, the F-Type’s curves are
developing extra curves. This has been a very good day indeed, and it’s not
over yet.
