A Subtle Sort of Brutal: Mercedes-AMG C63 S Sedan

I like to imagine a scene.  Sometime earlier this year, near the town of Affalterbach, Baden-Württemberg, Germany, near Stuttgart, a man named Alexander Kasarez readied himself for work, poured a cup of coffee to gird against the late-Winter chill, kissed his wife and tousled his children’s hair, and made his way to work at the Mercedes-AMG factory.  Alexander spent this day like other days, meticulously assembling by hand an AMG motor, in this instance a 4.0-liter, twin-turbo V8, engine code number M177, his specific skills honed over many years of delicate craftsmanship in the name of mechanical precIsion and accuracy.  At the end of the day, the motor, having been measured and tested and validated against Alexander’s exacting standards (and the quality control processes of Mercedes-AMG), was placed in a crate and labeled for shipment.  But before that, just at the end of the process, Alexander placed a silver badge engraved with his signature on the engine cover, proudly marking that the engine had been handcrafted by him: One engine, one man, assembled by hand.  At the end of his workday, Alexander perhaps stopped off for a stein of the local brew with his mates, before making his way home through the chilly German evening.  It was a good day.

While the details of my imagined scene are likely way off, what I do know to be absolutely true is that the engine Alexander assembled made its way from Affalterbach all the way to Vance, Alabama, USA, where it was installed in the car you see here:  A 2017 Mercedes-AMG C63 S Sedan.

(Many thanks to the fine folks at Mercedes of Kansas City for the extended test drive.)

AMG has always been the most organic of the German high-performance shops, the So-Cal Speed Shop of the Black Forest.  Started in 1967 as a racing engine builder by former Mercedes engineers Hans-Werner Aufrecht and Erhard Melcher in an old mill in Burgstall an der Murr, Germany, AMG ultimately began building racing versions of Mercedes roadcars and eventually became the de facto “factory” tuner.  In 2005, the relationship was made complete when Mercedes-Benz acquired AMG entirely, morphing them into the corporate brand structure.  Unlike their brethren at BMW M and Audi Sport, however, AMG’s ambitions were always to build their own bespoke automobiles, and in 2010 they released their first official ground-up car, the gull-winged SLS, followed soon after by the slightly more accessible (though equally orgasmically appealing) AMG GT.

It's a shame there's not a transparent hood option.

AMG's foundational recipe was simple:  Take one refined and otherwise substantial and adult Mercedes-Benz sedan, bolt in the biggest, honkin’ist motor they could conjure, slap on some gussied-up suspension parts, add some subtle but aggressive visual  accoutrements, and fire that sucker up.  Tires?  Hell, man, those are disposable parts of a car!  And thus it has been, even after the corporate overlords moved into the AMG lunchroom, with even the dowdy G-wagon receiving the steroidal AMG treatment.

The C-class Sedan on which this particular AMG is based is an otherwise lovely, aspirational “mid-luxury” sedan, Mercedes’ answer to the BMW 3-Series, Audi A4, Lexus IS, Infiniti Q50, and Cadillac CTS.  It’s a crowded segment, astoundingly competitive, with the perennial class-leading BMW setting the long-time benchmark for the others.  Competition has improved the breed across the board, with each of these series of cars having qualities, performance, and technology unimaginable just ten years ago.  The current-generation C-class (the W205 in the vernacular) arrived on the scene in 2014 and has spawned Sedan, Coupe, and Cabriolet (aka Convertible) versions in the US (with the Wagon sadly unavailable domestically).

The top-shelf C63 S has a base price of $72,800, but the car you see here was loaded up with all manner of goodies, some essential, some perhaps not so, and will set the greedy buyer back $93,290.  It's a lot of cheese but such is the cost for competing at the high-end of this class.  Contributing to the cost inflation are the AMG Performance Exhaust System, Panorama Roof, AMG Performance Seats, delicious black cross-spoke forged wheels, and several other electronic and visual packages.  The seats are a bargain at $2500 (more on those later), and $975 for the luscious designo™ Cardinal Red Metallic paint, the color of Vatican sin, is worth every penny.  (This may be my favorite red hue on the market today.)

The C63 S Sedan exemplifies the brutalist approach to performance long expounded by AMG. While the design of the non-AMG C-class versions is elegant and mature, if perhaps a tad conservative, the C63 S has beefed up just enough to make a passerby notice:  Hey, there’s something different about THAT one.  AMG broadened the car's stance front and rear, installed a menacing front fascia to slurp air into the intercoolers, and tweaked other surfaces just enough to give the car a vaguely menacing air. It’s a subtle sort of violent intent, the Ray Donovan of performance sedans.

One man, one motor:  AMG.

As with all things AMG, the car's personality starts with the motor.  Mr. Kasarez’s engine is a 4.0-liter V8 Biturbo, which makes 503-hp at 6250 RPM and 516-lb/ft of torque at a loafing 1750 RPM.  Turn the key and fire it up; it’s not subtle.  The exhaust note begins as sonorous and burbling, almost reserved, but then utterly explodes under acceleration.  The note is organic and raw, like walking in a prairie outside of Bozeman and accidentally stepping on a sleeping bison’s tail.  You won’t forget the sound. When the final chapter is written on the internal combustion engine in fewer number of years than most of us thought possible (I’m guessing ten to fifteen), it’s the sound of engines like these that will be most missed.  (And massive kudos to Mercedes-AMG for resisting the piped-in sound nonsense found in the M-cars from BMW).  All that grunt propels the C63 S from 0 to 60mph in 3.9 seconds, bettering its arch rival from down Munich way (the BMW M3 DCT Competition Pack) by a tenth of a second.  So bragging rights go to the Merc.  I doubt that’s coincidental.

Power is transmitted to the rear wheels through a 7-speed, dual-clutch automatic with a manual shifting mode, which comes standard with launch-control for those brave enough to give it a try (and for those who could care less about the long-term maintenance prospects of this key piece of the drivetrain).  The transmission architecture is as unique as the hand-built motor, with the automatic gearbox forgoing the traditional torque converter for a multi-clutch pack, the idea being to combine the best attributes of a torque-converter automatic and a dual-clutch manual.  Shifts are crisp and quick and set a standard for autoboxes that others in the field (such as the Cadillac CTS-V) should emulate.  But the C63 S still doesn’t rip off upshifts and downshifts as quickly and cleanly as the true double-clutch transmission in the BMW M3/M4.  Mercedes could remedy that performance gap easily since they have a dynamite double-clutch 7-speed in their own parts box, which they install in the AMG GT.  But their choice to go this route doesn’t disappoint; shifts are flawless and smooth, gentle and seamless when loafing around town in typical driving and equally aggressive when you want them to be.  It’s the best automatic transmission I’ve ever driven, full stop.

Sport+-mode graphics will make even the stodgiest acturary squeel like a school girl

All of the engine’s power makes its way through an electronically controlled limited-slip differential to the rear wheels of the car.   The C63 S (and it’s slightly tamer sibling, the C63) forgoes the AWD system in most AMG models for good ol' rear-wheel drive.  AMG’s decision to put this much power and torque through only the rear wheels means that the careless (or carefree) driver is never far from having the back tires break away, the rear of the car swaying hither and yon in the most amusing manner.  And thus, it requires some thought and careful throttle application to get the most out of the C63 S, and for that I stand up and give Mercedes-AMG a hearty and heartfelt… <slow clap>.  All that power is channeled through fetching AMG-specific 19” wheels shod in Michelin Pilot Super Sport tires, which generate a true cacophony of tire noise on pretty much any pavement.  It’s a small blemish on the otherwise pitch-perfect suspension tuning, but it does serve to constantly remind the driver of the forces flowing through the contact patches.

Handling is largely neutral and predictable, the aforementioned ease of breaking the rear-end loose notwithstanding, and it’s a simple task to get the car up on its toes to sample it’s moves.  For such a heavy car (pushing 4000 lbs), the C63 S handles its mass with ease, with gobs of front-end grip and little body roll to ruin the tippytoes-feel of the car dancing under speed.  AMG’s three-mode electronically-controlled suspension allows the driver to choose damping levels ranging from firm to track-harsh, but even the “softest” firm setting (oxymoron alert!) is pleasant and comfy for around town daily driving.  The steering itself is nicely weighted and gently talkative, with no dead-spots in feel even when the wheel is centered.

Inside, Mercedes has clearly decided to overcompensate for its stodgy interiors of yore. The C63 S builds on Mercedes’ modern nautical design motif, with a wide and high center console trimmed with elegant brushed aluminum for all vents and knobs and switches.  It’s a cozy cockpit that provides a sense of intimacy and isolation while also exuding absolute quality. Every material surface is first-rate, and the tactile quality of switchgear matches anything from industry-leader Audi.  The central screen for the COMAND vehicle control system is bright, easy to navigate, and straightforward.  I still find the BMW iDrive system the industry leader in terms of vehicle interfaces, but Mercedes has closed the gap significantly.

Another glorious old-school detail for those who have had to listen to me rant about modern cars with no specific place to store the key fob:  In this car, and indeed all C-class cars, you can actually stick the fob into a dashboard receptacle and twist your wrist to start the car.  Nostalgia!  Sometimes, it’s the little things…

One small nit:  The gear shifter is a simple, plastic stalk on the right side of the steering column, which demands all the delicacy of chopsticks to manipulate.  This unremarkable little appendage is entirely at odds with the Sword of Damocles power summoned when you put the car in gear.  Hey, Mercedes, how about giving your friendly hooligan a friggin’ proper gear lever on the console or something?

Lucky owners will become accustomed to this view.

One other small nit:  The rear-view mirrors are too small in the car, so you’ll quickly learn to lean on the electronic blind-spot indicators built into the mirror frames.  No matter, though, since you’ll typically be coming up on cars from behind anyway, given the intended use-case of this animal.

But the seats! The optional AMG Performance Seats are absolutely magical, my new favorite seats in any car I’ve driven in the past two years.  Not only do they look fabulous and have a Chinese menu’s worth of adjustments, but they’re bolstered and cushioned in Goldilocks fashion, allowing no gluteal sliding while remaining comfortable over longer distances.  If you order a C63 S, get these seats.  Just trust me on this.

The downside of a car with this much power, and a platform that encourages using it, is fuel economy.  While the EPA figures on the Monroney claim 18mpg City and 24 highway for a combined average of 20mpg, let me just stress that, well, your mileage may vary.  The C63 S drinks gas like a like a drunk on a bender, like a parched cactus during monsoon season, like a greyhound after a long night at the track, like…you get the idea.  How this car escaped a “gas guzzler” tax from the regulators can only be explained by graft and backroom deals.  I swear I actually saw the gas gauge needle move towards E under hard acceleration.  You’ve been warned.

The C63 S makes the best argument yet for NOT plunking down your ninety grand on a fully-loaded BMW M3. In fact, I’m happy to admit I’m rather smitten by the car, it’s sharp-edged combination of brutal strength, cosseting luxury, and subtle aesthetics making an appealing and convincing case for being the best 4-door sports sedan on the market.

All of Mercedes-AMG should be rightly proud of this car.  And to Alexander Kasarez especially, I say:  Job well-done.

Nicky Hayden for a Day: Ducati 1199 Panigale R

Hero worship is a funny thing.  As I write this, I’m sitting in my office, sipping a beer, wearing a t-shirt emblazoned with a red, white, and blue #1 flanked with two words:  Evel Knievel.  Understand, I’m a 51-year old man who’s not overly prone to nostalgia, but one of the few items I miss from my childhood is my beloved Evel Knievel lunch box, which burned up in a house fire when I was ten.  My Rosebud if you will.  When I found this t-shirt in a shop in New Orleans a few years back, I snapped it up over the bemused chuckle of my wife, and as it's faded over the years, I feel like it’s catching up in wear-and-tear to me.  When I wear it to the grocery store or Costco or some tony shop, inevitably I get knowing thumbs-up from other men of a certain age.  Boys will never stop being boys.  (LATE BREAKING NEWS:  The Evel Knievel Museum opened last weekend!)

But heroes come and heroes go, and since the turn of the century, the motorcycle hero I’ve followed is one Nicholas Patrick “Nicky” Hayden, aka “The Kentucky Kid,” who blew onto the scene after winning the AMA title in 2002 and then transitioned to MotoGP with the Repsol Honda team the following year.  In 2006, Hayden won the MotoGP title outright, beating out Valentino Rossi for the title at the final race.  (For an astounding recount of that season, I highly recommend Rick Broadbent’s “Ring of Fire.”)  Nicky jumped to the Ducati factory team in 2009, spent five seasons there, then moved back to a Honda team before leaving MotoGP for the production-based World Superbike Championship in 2016.

And then this past May, while on a bicycle training ride nearly Rimini, Italy, with other members of his team, Hayden was hit by a car and suffered severe injuries.  He succumbed five days later.  Hayden rode a motorcycle, any motorcycle, from dirt bikes to flat-trackers to road racing machines to MotoGP two-wheeled spaceships, with verve and flair and joy, and by all accounts, he was one of the true gentlemen in the racing paddock.  The Kentucky Kid also happened to be the most successful American motorcycle racer of his era.  He was, as they say, hero material.

And that brings me to this review, of the Ducati 1199 Panigale R, a bike for heroes if there ever was one.

I suppose I should be brutally honest up front.  The Ducati 1199 Panigale R is a dreadful street bike.  It bucks at low speeds, which means it bucks at pretty much anything even remotely legal.  It barks and snorts and makes noise like an Al Pacino outtake reel.  At stop signs and lights, or anywhere that demands civilized behavior, it handles in a tremulous manner.  You sit tippy-toe high.  It’s hot.  It will not flatter you with niceties.

I love everything about it.

The Panigale R arrived in 2013 (the bike tested here is of that generation), and as with virtually all of Ducati’s R-bikes, it was intended as a homologation special to conform to World Superbike rules.  Ducati has released a number of R-bikes over the years, with some notables being the 888SP2, 996R, 999R, and 1098R, all of which went on to significant use and success in the racing world.  The “R” moniker isn’t used exclusively for homologation machines, as you can walk into your Ducati dealer and buy a lovely Monster R at this very moment, but the Superbikes that wear the badge have always tended toward the extreme.

The bike's motor begins life as the standard two-cylinder 1199S lump, but since this bike has racing intentions, Ducati equipped the R with titanium connecting rods and a lighter flywheel, which lets the bike build revs in a manner more closely associated with 4-cylinder bikes (a twin has massive pistons to turn over, remember) with the rev limiter raised from 11,500 to 12,000 rpm.  The engine makes 195-hp at 10,750 rpm and 97.3 lb/ft of torque at 9000 rpm.  At any speed, the bike never wants for power, the low-end torque between 3000 to 7000 rpm providing a visceral grunt virtually unknown to the V4s with which the R competes.

Nicky Hayden showing how it's done.  (Image: GPextra.com.)

Ducati also equipped the Panigale R with numerous chassis upgrades to facilitate fine-tuning in a race paddock, including an adjustable swingarm pivot that allows for several millimeters tunable movement up and down, allowing racers to tune for squat and increased agility (which helps to manage tire wear over a race distance).  This is not a feature with which riders who stick to the roads will ever likely experiment, but it speaks to the racing intentions of the machine.  The bike also gets all manner of carbon fiber goodies, which not only look wonderful (the Italians do matte-finished CF better than anyone) but also save some weight.

To that point, the R tips the scales at 417-pounds wet (meaning full of fluids), which makes it one of the lightest liter-bikes on the market.  The ultra-lightweight forged and machined three-spoke Marchesini wheels and Brembo M50 calipers also add to the significant weight reduction.

The Panigale R also happens to be achingly beautiful, the rolling embodiment of Italian design, powerful and taught and nipped and tucked, an expensive bike that looks expensive.  And did I mention it’s red?  I read an interview once with Flavio Manzoni, Ferrari’s Chief Designer, who happens to collect Ducati motorcycles.  When asked why he collected Ducati bikes rather than Ferrari cars, he replied to the effect of, “Ducatis are Ferraris for people who can’t afford Ferraris.”  I entirely get it (though I'm suspect of Flavio’s veracity about his financial capabilities).  The Panigale R looks exotic sitting still, every component and weld and brake-line fastener lovely and purposeful and exotic.  As a garage queen, it is nonpareil. 

All the info you need and none you don't (except for a gas guage).

On startup, the Panigale R whines its high-tension starter whine then erupts with a bark.  Ducati ships the R with a stock Panigale exhaust, but also includes a full Termignini race systems with a dedicated ECU mapping (the bike you see here was thus equipped).  (Note:  The current year's R bikes ship with an Akropovic race exhaust rather than the Termi.)  To say that it’s loud does an injustice to decibel sensors; this bike will wound a rider not wearing appropriate hearing protection.  But oh, what a sound!  Hikers who have the misfortune to be hiking in Yellowstone at the moment the supervolcano erupts will hear a similar sound as their lives come to an end, a howling, barking, gravely gargle that ebbs and flows with rage and tension; Sam Elliot has likely already signed a retainer to voice the Panigale R in an upcoming Pixar “Cars” movie.  It’s unlike any motorcycle I’ve ever heard.

The electronics are everything you'd expect from a top-spec superbike these days, and Ducati's LCD screen is bright and readable in all manner of light.  (The way the background flexes from black to white depending on ambient light is both cool and useful.) The Panigale R comes with the latest gizmos that Ducati and its OEM partners can conjure, all with the express intent of both making you feel comfortable going faster but also preserving the rider and the bike.  For fun, I opened the throttle more fully than prudent at one mid-corner and the DTC EVO system (think really fancy traction control) lit up the dashboard with all manner of blinky lights while it modulated traction and wheelspin to save me from myself.  The bike never slowed, never jerked, just slid the rear Pirelli Diablo Supercorsa SP tire enough for me to feel it in my ass, then rocketed out of the corner with massive speed.

The sounds planets make when the smash together in the cosmos.

As mentioned, it’s not a particularly pleasant motorcycle to ride slow.  (Ed: The next sentence was originally “So don’t ride slow!” but our lawyers made us take that out.)  Even in Sport mode (rather than the type-A Race mode), the R’s fueling at lower revolutions is unhappy and bitchy, and low-speed handling is ponderous at best.  Plan your rides accordingly, because this bike wants a track or at the very least a winding country road, where it comes alive.  Once there, the race-tuning begins to make sense, the bike becoming flickable through transitions, aided not only by the low curb-weight but by the Öhlins suspension front and back, which provides immense feedback and progressive damping.  The wide, clip-on handlebars aid turn-in and the rider geometry makes steering with your knees on the tank almost telepathic.  The windscreen even does an admirable job of directing the wind at speeds north of 120 mph (or so, um, I guess, cough, cough).  While the Panigale R isn’t as comfortable as, say, the Aprilia RSV4 Factory or BMW S1000RR, it’s not at all an uncomfortable perch (with the proviso that comfort is absolutely relative on superbikes in general).

The Panigale R isn’t for the faint of heart when it comes to pulling out your checkbook.  At a list price of $35,000, the R is almost ten grand more expensive than the 1299S model it sits above in the lineup.  That extra dough gets a bunch of extras, though, and perhaps even more importantly a whole lot of exclusivity.  And since the 1199/1299 line is the end to the era of Ducati twin-cylinder bikes, with the inevitable four-cylinder superbikes arriving soon, collectability is certainly an element with the R.  It’s special, in the way that taming any lightly-broken beast is special.

The Ducati Panigale R rewards commitment and skill; it’s the diametric opposite of the bike for beginners, and maybe most importantly it’s the kind of motorcycle that allows you to scratch your inner Nicky Hayden fantasies.  And I would be massively fibbing if I didn't admit to that being one of the reasons I still wrap my middle-aged self around these kinds of rocketships.  Get one while you can.