The Mercedes-Benz CLK 63 AMG Black Series will go down in history perhaps as the pinnacle of the glorious and historic German brand at it's time. The brilliant Jeremy Clarkson was having an internal civil war of thoughts on what should be his personal choice for the 2008 Car of the Year. He ended up choosing the Chevrolet Corvette ZR-1. Despite the fact that I am a pretentious, biased asshole and I have never driven either one, I will still venture to say that his silly British brain must have been clogged with shephard's pie or liver and onions, or whatever it is that English people eat on a regular basis. Chunder.
If you are in the market for a supercar, now is the time to make your purchase. With depreciation values hitting the high-end car market the hardest, you can get yourself the car you never thought you could afford at a price that's absolutely outrageous instead of grotesquely unfathomable.
After eating a legendary breakfast consisting of an 18 ounce T-Bone steak, half a dozen fried eggs, half a loaf of bread and 2 pints of chocolate milk, I turned up the heat to a comatose inducing 74 degrees and flopped onto my couch, laptop by my side. My food coma kicked in per usual but between nod-outs I browsed Craigslist for cars. I have decided that I will not be purchasing an Acura, for in my opinion they have a shoddy quality that conveys a po-dunk, bottom of the barrel, scrappy vibe that I will not be associated with.
I came across the car of my dreams, the CLK 63 AMG Black Series, in black for a very affordable $85,000 American fiat currency. The list price on the car is $155,000, meaning the car has depreciated almost 40% in less than a year (this is the 2008 model) in only 4000 miles. This means that for every 100 miles the owner has driven this freakishly fast and powerful machine, the car lost 1% of it's value. This is an astronomical amount; nothing could possibly compare.
Let's look at at the stats. It weighs 3880 lbs and achieves 507 bhp at 6800 rpm from it's 6.3 liter natrually aspirated, specially tuned AMG V8, meaing it has about 295 bhp per ton, or 82 bhp/liter. That's enough to propel even my fat ass norde to 60mph in 4.2 seconds, 60-100 in 7.4, and it will top out at 186. The car sits on 19 inch forged alloy wheels, MacPhearson struts in the front and has a multi-link rear suspension, and carbon composite disc brakes all around to help slow the beast. I am certain that one could pull more than 2 G's under braking, assuming you have the driving skills to get the brakes up to proper operating temperature. Gear changes are taken care of via a 7 speed, semi-automatic gearbox with the flappy paddles on the wheel. Up on the right, down on the left, you know what it is. The flappy paddles are almost absolutely necessary because one should never take their eyes off the road on their hands off the wheel for any reason while piloting such a machine of such caliber.
What else is there to say about this car? It is perhaps my favorite of all time. It looks stunning with it's aggressive styling, its flared wheel arches and its fully functional quad exhaust pipes. I would like nothing more than to turn off the launch control and spin the Pirelli P Zero Corsa tyres until the first layer of rubber wears off, giving me some extra needed grip so that I may drive aggresively drive with passion and confidence through the Pennsylvania countryside, where the noisy engine note screams in the wind, capturing the heart of its driver for 1000 years.
This car is based on the Formula 1 Safety Car, that is, the car that deploys under a yellow flag, leading the racecars around the track in a parade until the problem is fixed. I would give up eating for an entire day, or pehaps half a day, to just have a few laps around the world renowed Fugi circuit in Japan. I can imagine bouncing the tach needle against the rev limiter in 7th gear on the backstraight, trying to lock the brakes as I approach the late apex of the first corner, but the brilliant ABS system will not allow it. I feather the throttle in ecstasy through the exit until I bounce off the kerb and stab the throttle to the floor, racing through the gears with just a squeeze of my right hand. 2nd, 3rd, 4th gear! And the sound! The scream of the V8 eminating from the tailpipes as the car stays perfectly balanced and poised as I tear through the midsection of the circuit, composed of long, sweeping, epic corners and tight chicanes. The adrenaline pumps and my heart flutters. The car can sense my every desire for speed as it begs to be pushed, pushed farther towards the limits of what is possible. I am thrown in my seat, left to right and left again as I complete the third sector of the circuit but the sporty leather bucket seats hold me firmly, planted in my seat. I complete the final turn with a perfect balance of grip and speed, so that I hardly understeer at all, and I again stab the throttle fully open, drive accross the kerb on the left, making my tyres rattle like thunder in the perfect, hilly, Japanese countryside.
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