But, push to shove, it’s still a skinny hazelnut latte to the ristretto hit delivered by a proper Affalterbach V8. Actually, wrong drink. The latter is more like a thick, glutinous hot chocolate. With cream. And marshmallows. In one of those cups so big it needs two handles.
C63 507Coupe. More on which in due course. But it’s been a while since I drove a proper V8 and after the pummelling, high intensity workout the A45 delivered it was like sliding slowly into a warm and luxuriant bath.
There are many reasons to love a proper full fat AMG with a sodding great V8 under the bonnet. Mine over the last few days might sound strange but the overriding satisfaction it’s given me is how nice it is to drive slowly in the daily trundle round the M25.
This is no mean feat. Making a fast car isn’t that difficult, accepting that you need a degree of expertise and the raw materials to make it happen. But there’s a theme developing in modern fast cars and a growing disconnect between their incredible abilities and the opportunities in which most, if any, of us actually get to enjoy that. A 458 Speciale would be, indeed, a special thing to get on a track. But even if you had the brass ones to risk it in such a situation you’d be black flagged on noise before you even crossed the threshold. Leaving … what? First gear blats to and fro on the Kings Road?
Meanwhile the C63 driver will be wuffling past, beaming contentedly to himself at 20mph just … happy.
The C63 is very simple: the harder you push the pedal, the faster you go. Once per journey you might find an opportunity for that to be at the ‘very’ end of the spectrum. And have a little chuckle before reverting back to a relaxed cruise with a big grin on your face.
Obviously it’s incorrigibly thirsty and there’s absolutely no rational argument for carrying round a 6.2-litre engine with over 500hp and raving about using barely a fifth of that most of the time.
But since when did logic come into it? Make mine a wagon please, he said, heading off into the classifieds…