Power, passion in Mercedes-AMG GT S coupe
Mercedes-AMG GT S Coupe is track-ferocious
BOWMANVILLE, Ont. — This Mercedes is not a car. This Mercedes is a machine that draws adrenalin long before the spark of ignition. This Mercedes is not about transportation — it is about having a plan and fusing it with passion.
The 2016 Mercedes-AMG GT S Coupe is undeniably the most gorgeous car to come from Affalterbach since the gull-wing miracle of the SLS AMG — an automobile that altered the axis of the automotive world in 2009. The SLS, spiritual successor to the glorious 1954 300SL Gullwing, captured so much imagination it ought to have its own house of worship.
But the SLS was expensive and not exactly practical. At roughly $250,000, it was something to be savoured by a select few. And while the SLS AMG was monstrously fast, able to outrun many an Aston Martin or Audi, it was big and came with a peculiar personality — part muscle car, part luxury car, part exotic mixed with race car. It was, like a loved one who bottles feelings, something that took time and patience to understand.
One lap around Canadian Tire Motorsport Park, northeast of Toronto, and it’s apparent the $149,900 AMG GT S Coupe is much more heart-on-sleeve, roaring with a teeth-gritting ferocity that panics the trackside starlings this early spring morning.
The AMG GT S is not, of course, meant to be a direct replacement for the retiring SLS AMG, even if it does adopt its front suspension and an improved Getrag seven-speed dualclutch gearbox that executes shifts with sniper-like precision. But where the SLS required a delicate hand and constant attention, the GT merely wants — no, demands — passion. It asks only to be pushed harder at every corner and straight, for any and all reservations or hesitations I might have as a driver to be unpacked, as though thrilled to finally get the chance to go for a good hard run and show off its talent.
Through the off-camber esses of the track’s Moss Corner, the 20-inch rear wheels of the GT maintain a fierce grip. Out of the corner, the approaching runway of the Mario Andretti back straight beckons. Pushing the throttle to the floor ignites the twin turbos nested in the top V of the engine. The 4.0-litre V-8 immediately forces air and fuel into the specially coated cylinders with a fervour that forces me into the supportive leather sport seat.
The rear tires struggle for traction; the back end twitches right, then left. The pressure on my body is more extreme than a jet on takeoff. Trees become a blur as the rear spoiler lifts into place at 120 km/h. I cannot see where needle and number intersect in the instrument dials. I remind myself to breathe.
The digital-numeric speedometer flickers past 200 km/h as the GT crests the incline of the long straight, not feeling light and squirrely as predicted but squat, low and sure, thanks to a 47/53 balance. A dry-sump oil reservoir allows the engine to sit deeper by 55 mm, creating a lower centre of gravity. There is no roll, very little pitch, only a consistent craving for more speed. The GT’s crackling, snorting and bellowing AMG exhaust echoes off the concrete barriers like a monster from Where the Wild Things Are — nothing like a machine crafted by humans.
A touch of the brake pedal clamps six-piston front calipers onto the GT’s iron rotors, eliminating speed so abruptly it hints at what fighter pilots must feel when landing atop aircraft carriers. In fact, the brakes are so aggressive they must be applied smoothly to avoid too much dive entering the corner. “Gently!” I yell into the cockpit. A carbonceramic brake package that costs as much as a Nissan Micra, at $13,750, seems like complete overkill.
Now into turn six, and carrying what feels like too much speed for the long arch of turn eight, the 1,645-kilogram GT with the beautifully long hood and perfectly proportioned rump goes precisely where it’s pointed, as though the brief on this car was “obey the driver, no matter what.” The steering has a lightness and sense of purpose that’s almost intuitive. It’s direct and incredibly accurate, though feedback from the hydraulic system is limited, and the detection of understeer requires the driver’s internal yaw sensors to be on high alert.
Not that understeer is evident until it begins to rain, of course, at which point the 503-horsepower in the AMG GT is rendered almost redundant. But in the dry, with 479 pound-feet of torque available at a very early 1,750 rpm, the AMG GT feels mighty indeed, as though this car was created to show Porsche that its 911 GT3 is not the only machine able to conquer the Everest of sports-coupe desire.
If only one word were available to describe the performance of this AMG GT, it might even be “magical.” Perhaps it’s the front mid-ship engine, connected to a transmission cradled between the rear wheels via a long carbon driveshaft. Maybe it’s because zero to 100 km/h requires 3.8 seconds. Or that top speed is 310 km/h.
The straight-talking personality of the AMG GT reappears in the interior, where an aircraft-inspired cockpit allows the driver to adjust from full Race to Sport settings, but there is also a Comfort mode. Remarkably, the GT’s demeanour changes substantially here, relaxing the suspension and throttle, quieting the exhaust, calming the snug cabin and underscoring its mission: to make office commutes as enjoyable as carving canyon roads, replete with tunnels.
The interior, as visually appealing as the exterior, is beautifully crafted with excellent materials, but isn’t the most ergonomic in the class. The shifter, for example, is stationed well back, requiring some awkward arm positioning. The park button isn’t as classy as the rest of the controls. A touch pad that uses single or multiple finger gestures will take time to master. While places to store life’s carry-ons are limited, the back hatch opens to some usable space that might — might — carry a small golf bag.
This, I suppose, is what happens when a company of means and vision creates something from scratch. The Mercedes-AMG GT S Coupe, arriving this month in dealerships, is what happens when sports-car purists are told to design and build their ultimate sports coupe — sans gull-wing doors.