Sleazy rider

Deep down, I quite fancy myself as a CL500 owner. I know, I know, you see me more as a raw, unbridled, "young Brando" type but still, a CL Merc is an irresistible indulgence, a tantalising fantasy of how one's automotive third age might pan out. It is a "summer on the Cap, nights at the baccarat tables, lunch on the terrace at Alain Ducasse" kind of car, and I could definitely see myself living that life (if we ignore for a moment the impediments of a wife, two children, a mortgage and no fixed income).

It is, then, a car for the care-free, high-rolling, international roue. Or is it, as is the case of the two examples round my way, the wheels of choice for the Lebanese restaurant-chain owner with a penchant for Eastern European ladies, or the IT-software entrepreneur who has just upgraded from a 3-series coupe and paved over his front garden to park it?

A CL can be all these things to all these - admittedly not especially appealing - men. So what is it that lures them to a CL instead of, say, a 911, an Aston or a Bentley?

CL buyers won't be after a sports car, that is for sure, which rules out the first two. The CL500 cossets and wafts, but is of little use if you want to out-run an Elise (and part of me can't help thinking that, for [pound]80k, a car ought to be able to do both). Brake suddenly and the body pitches forwards; floor the throttle and there is a pause as the considerable molecular weight that surrounds you gathers itself to muster forward propulsion. Imagine pushing a wheelbarrow full of jelly and you'll get the idea. That said, it is colossally fast (heaven knows what the CL600 must be like), and, personally, I would always trade a little body control for a nice ride. Still, it's better just to point the CL towards a motorway, slip into cruise control, put on a little Wagner and have someone wake you up when you get to Wigan (though what a CL would be doing in Wigan is a moot point).

The Bentley is a closer rival, but its rear seats are preposterously cramped and, of course, there is the small matter of the extra [pound]40k you'll need to buy one. Mercedes owners aren't so rich that things like value for money don't matter.

Something CL owners clearly do share is a pathological urge to exhibit the success they have achieved in life. (Bitter? Me?) And what better way is there than spending between [pound]80,000 (for the V8) and [pound]107,000 (for the V12 version) on an S-class with two fewer doors?

They also know quality when they see it. Refreshingly for a premium German car, there's no ruched leather.

Mercedes has instead gone for the Hercule Poirot look, with piano wood and chrome trim and an Art Deco-ish clock in the centre of the dash. It is a lovely place to be and, matched with that phenomenal ride, helps to make any journey as relaxing as floating in amniotic fluid (I have a good memory), all except for the incessant beeping noises. I've no idea what I was doing wrong - it wasn't my seatbelt, or that I had the fog lights on. Perhaps it was just that the CL could tell I wasn't the right sort to take its wheel, either that or it was a Slovakian prostitute alert.

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