PH Fleet Update: C63 AMG Estate

Outgunned at the pumps (sort of), and other stuff

Haven't we met before?

Funny what you see on the way to the office. Filling up (again...) on the M40 near Gaydon this morning, our C63 rumbled onto the forecourt behind a Jaguar XJ 220 that gave every appearance of being stranded with the engine cover raised.

The two gents inside seemed to be avoiding direct eye-contact with the general public, and I didn't intrude with a cheery tap on the window. But I did drop an email to a chap we know at Jaguar to see whether it was a car from the heritage fleet. You know, in case there was a chance to poke a bit of fun...

But no, despite the proximity to Jag HQ it turns out this is a privately owned machine, and it may indeed be chassis number 1 that was originally sold to the Loades brothers, they of Abbey Panels fame. The car is registered XJ 220, so somebody will know. (And please excuse the dodgy 'phone pics.)

"Hello RAC... no, it IS an XJ 220...

Which is all by the way, but it added a dash of extra interest to yet another fuel stop in the C63 - stops which are otherwise becoming increasingly tedious for obvious reasons. Fortunately there's nothing else remotely tedious about the vehicle, which remains a thrill a minute, even when you're not driving it like a silly b*gger. Which requires a terrific amount of self-restraint, I can tell you.

Even so I couldn't help running an envious eye over the spec card next to a new C Class 220 CDI estate inside the M-B dealership in Nottingham the other day. The 'Sport' version looks the part (they have one there in glistening black), and apparently boasts the possibility of a near 60mpg average - which means it goes three times further on a tank-full than ours. It's also got the latest post-facelift dash, but I quite like our old style one with the pop-up navigation system because you can pop it down for a simpler, cleaner looking fascia when it's not in use.

...no, that IS the reg number..."

Anyway, contrary to expectation owning a C63 isn't all about extortionate running costs. The first service at 13k-ish miles weighed in at a mere £199 which wasn't nearly as frightening as I'd have predicted. Although when you look at it as 10 litres of oil, an air filter element and 30 minutes of somebody's time you... no, must stop doing that, eh?

Instead, I briefly enjoyed the palatial premises of Inchcape Nottingham, complete with squeaky floor tiles and staff perfectly drilled in the curious art of customer service. And I enjoyed finding out the brakes are wearing perfectly - 30% each corner - which must say something about my perfectly balanced driving style, I shall henceforth claim.

When I picked the car up, the cabin was littered with pieces of scrap paper apologising for moving the seat position while taking credit for the 'free' car wash which had been administered. It's fine to brag, but not after missing the pasty crumbs I'd spluttered onto the dashboard earlier that week, the dust that always gathers on top of the steering cowling (is that the automotive equivalent of belly button fluff?), and a light mud splattering still on the flanks, surely?

Barley straw, apparently. £5 a bale.

But I was grateful anyway. Especially as they did vacuum most of the straw out of the boot which, never mind a set of golf clubs, appears to have been specified exactly to accommodate a standard agricultural-issue bale. So the Mother-In-Law's chickens are sitting pretty, even if the V8 rumble at the weekend has probably put them off laying for a day or two.

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MantaMike

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280 months