Brendan Seery

INEVER thought I’d see the day when a Mercedes-Benz could be labelled an automotive bargain. That was because Mercs are, with good reason, perched high in the premium-brands tree and, anchored so firmly there that they are unlikely to be dislodged for a long, long time.

And, no doubt there are those who would take violent issue with me characterising our test Mercedes-Benz GLC 220d as extremely good value for money. At just under R650 000, it is not what you would call cheap but in motoring, as in life, everything is relative. So, compared to its peers in the luxury mid-sized SUV segment, it’s not that costly.

Take the Hyundai Santa Fe, for example. I know it is bigger and a more powerful diesel engine, but the Merc has permanent allwheel-drive, whereas the Hyundai is front-driven. The Merc boasts a silky-smooth 9-speed auto and state-of-the-art infotaintment, communication and safety system. By comparison, the Santa Fe has a tiny reversing camera screen tucked into the rear-view mirror, which is technologically at least five years out of date.

The Hyundai costs an eyewatering R730 000. That’s R80 000 more.

And, despite the Korean maker’s lofty aims for its admittedly wellmade range of cars, it is not in the same perception league as the three-pointed star.

The GLC is the SUV extension to the excellent C Class range. It’s got the macho looks and it says to people: I can afford a Merc and I get out into the great outdoors. With the Mercedes 4Matic transmission and raised ride height, the GLC will certainly be no mug off-road, either. Sorry to harp on: you cannot take a FWD SUV such as a Santa Fe anywhere near a rough road.

The latest Mercedes-Benz creations, both cars and SUVs, have shown a marked improvement in their external design and now all share the Merc family face and slightly rounded lines.

The GLC is clearly a Benz and it is clearly a sibling of the C Class, which means it is handsome in a quiet conservative way, although not quite as conservative as an Audi Q5, for example.

It is on the inside where the German engineers have clearly spent some time. The interior has been improved noticeably from the previous model, particularly in the area of instrumentation. The white on black dials are models of clarity and all the better for dumping the old Merc’s silver bling in metal and plastic.

Although the GLC is, like all current Merc products, different when it comes to ergonomics and driver interfaces, it still mostly works well once you are used to it.... but setting the radio is a nightmare.

The main oddity is the automatic transmission selector, which is on an indicator-like stalk on the right side of the steering column. A button on the end, when pressed, sticks the system in park, and selecting forward or reverse is as easy as moving it up and down. If you don’t spend a lot of time in Mercs, you might occasionally forget and try to use it as an indicator, flicking the transmission into neutral.

I did that a few times but then had a word with myself and, after that, all went smoothly.

There are two shift paddles on the sides of the steering wheel so you can manually sort out things if you are feeling sporty.

The GLC is no slouch: Merc says it will hit 100km/h in 8.3 seconds and I reckon you’ll still break 9 even in our rarefied highveld air. The 4-cylinder, 2.1-litre turbodiesel puts out 125kW, which gives a decent step off from the start but a satisfying shove in the back when overtaking. The autobox shifts cleanly in comfort and eco modes and with a lot more alacrity, although still smoothly, with the system in sport mode.

You do notice that the engine is a diesel because it is not the quietest around.

On our normal highway fuel consumption run, the GLC was giving just over 5 litres per 100km, which probably means most drivers should see about 6l/100km on the highway at the national speed limit, and between 8 and 9l/100km in the city. Both figures show the merits of a small-capacity diesel engine quite clearly.

The GLC is meant for those who want the Merc badge – and it does carry more cachet than a Hyundai one – but who want to occasionally venture into the bush. This is by no means an expedition vehicle, but you will have the security of knowing you’re not going to get stranded when your FWD so-called SUV encounters a little bit of a surprise, in the form of loose gravel or slush around the corner, or when it tries to negotiate a steep rocky track.

For most, though, the badge will be enough.

And, if they think about it, they can be even more smug because it’s cheaper than a Santa Fe.