Full of character (in a good way)

If you can cope with the attention, the G-Class is a glorious mix of big personality and massive practicality. By Mark Walton

I hate falling in love with expensive cars. Because everyone says, ‘Well, of course you love the Ferrari F8 Tributo, it’s £200,000!’ It’s much more interesting when you say, ‘Keep your Tributo! I choose the Honda Jazz!’ It suggests you’re really knowledgable and discerning, like you really know what you’re talking about.

I’ve fallen in love with my £106,000 G-Wagen. Okay, I’m shallow. I didn’t mean to love it so much – the first week it arrived, I thought, ‘Eugh, how gaudy and pumped-up and over the top. This is a car for bullies and extroverts and Premier League football players who just want to flaunt their obscene wealth.’ Then I drove it around for a while and decided it was perfect.

I’d like to think that’s because I appreciate amazing engineering, not because I’m flash. And the G350d is beautifully engineered – you know the stories: hand-built in Graz; over 100 man-hours to assemble; Mercedes going the extra mile to homologate the indicator pods; blah blah blah. But it really does feel premium and solid and built to last. And while the exterior suggests old-fashioned, leaf-sprung farm vehicle, in reality the ride, the handling, the 3.0-litre straight six – it’s all surprisingly sophisticated and easy to live with.

Once you get used to the gigantic dimensions, the 350d is lovely to drive and a dream on long journeys. Instead of a lowly cockpit it has a bridge, like a ship.

Of course, you could say these things about a lot of cars; what makes the G stand out is its excess of character. Now, I appreciate that ‘character’ is what TVR owners used to call it when their Cerbera broke down. And it’s true, some of the G-Wagen’s quirks can be a little irritating, like the way you have to REALLY SLAM the doors every time, to get them to latch properly. How many times over the last six months have I had to tell passengers, ‘No, sorry, you have to really slam… sorry, it’s still not closed… try again, really slam the door… no, REALLY SLAM!!’

But overall, those stiff, thumb-latch door handles, the ladder-climb up to the boxy interior, that bolt-upright windscreen, the sound of that silky engine… when you drive a G, you know for certain at every moment that you’re absolutely not driving a BMW X5 or Volvo XC90.

And yes, it does have a swagger that none of those other cars has – more so even than a royal Range Rover. People turn and look – and that’s not because it’s new or unusual any more. It’s true, ours was the only G in town; but I think people were just responding to its presence in the street.

It’s the SUV version of a

Lamborghini – pure excessive theatre. And I say that knowing that Lamborghini does actually build an SUV. The Urus is mass-market and conventional compared to the G.

Now, the big question – one I’ve asked myself a lot – is where the dividing line lies between ‘swagger’ and ‘gaudy, pumped up, over-thetop car for bullies, extroverts and Premier League football players’. Tricky. Driving it around I feel great, but I’ve often thought I must look like a right tosser.

And that’s what I’ve learned about owning a G-Wagen the last eight months: the key question you need to ask yourself before you buy one is, ‘Do I care what other people think?’ If you don’t then go ahead – I reckon it’s a car you’ll own forever.

Count the cost

Cost new £106,300 Part exchange

£81,625 Cost per mile 25.3p Cost per mile including depreciation £3.42

How gaudy, I thought. Then I drove it around for a while and decided it was perfect