They just did, but don't look for a whole new world from the driver's seat. Underneath that sleek CLS shell lie the bones of the Mercedes E-class, so if you've driven any E500 made since 2003, the short story is that this CLS500 will mostly be a memory refresh.
For those of us who haven't, the story is longer. First, about the "500," this is a rare instance of a Mercedes name actually corresponding to engine size (5.0 liters). At 302 horsepower - mediocre output for such a size - it's far from the strongest V8 around and holds no acceleration advantage. That may change if Mercedes phases out this 24-valver for the new 32-valve, bigger-still 5.5-liter V8 from the new S-class, which would easily make this the king. Want to wait a while longer for 382 horsepower?
Not that the CLS is starving for speed. As the biggest existing V8 already, it packs a 339 pounds-feet whack of torque that really punts the car down the street as soon as you touch that pedal. It makes refreshingly rousing noises, too, at a time when BMW is making every effort to silence theirs. And don't ask how, but on top of it all, I somehow broke 20 miles to the gallon.
Maybe this was the work of "the world's first 7-speed automatic transmission." Once you hit five or six, there's little or no reason to care about more (unless you work for Mercedes marketing), but at least the cornucopia of cogs didn't create confusion. With ratios ranging from 4.38 to 0.73, the transmission knows how to choose between them, skipping over gears as necessary and staying under the driver's radar. Another plus: unlike older Benzes, it won't dull off-the-line response by starting off in second gear, unless you make it so by knocking the lever over into Comfort mode.
Comfort happens to be in high supply all around. Computer-controlled air springs (which let you pump the car up/down to one of two ride heights) collaborate with the CLS's four-link front / five-link rear suspensions to reliably cushion every blow from the road, with the slight firmness you'd expect from a Mercedes. It also feels as silent and stable at speed as an Autobahn-built car should, even if the thin 18-inch tires do crank up the volume quite a bit on coarse surfaces.
I can't say I felt much difference in ride quality between the three settings on that semi-active Airmatic suspension, though. And stepping back to the transmission, its manual mode, like Lexus's, is largely fake - the gear you choose is merely the highest gear it will shift up to - hence why you can put it in "6" while going 5 MPH. Carving a mountain road in the CLS isn't the most rewarding experience either, partly because it weighs two tons and the only trick it knows is understeer (the CLS's front tires are an inch narrower than the rears) and partly because its steering feel falls short of Infiniti and Audi, to say nothing about BMW. All of which point to the CLS not being a driver's car. Which it isn't.
And whether Mercedes wants to be sporty or not is fine, so long as they pick one path and excel. But the CLS carried over a big bag of unwelcome traits from the E-class that affects all kinds of driving. Starting with that steering, it's a conventional variable-assist hydraulic type with typical luxury car lightness at low speeds (it's faster than the one in the E-class). But once you gain some momentum, the level of effort can sometimes spike up suddenly and unnaturally; it first caught me off guard on a slightly curvy freeway on-ramp. (Mercedes literature states "less assist above 60 MPH"; it seems to vary below that as well.) Quirks like this breed tolerance eventually, affection never.
"Sensotronic" braking, while capable of halting the car in very short distances (and features Automatic Brake Drying to prep the pads in the rain) comprises the greater offense, and makes a fine counterargument to the belief that everything electronic is better. Even when you concentrate to apply steady pressure to the pedal, the pads bite with undue tenacity, causing a forward lurch among all occupants. It also makes for an odd contrast with the also-electronic throttle pedal, which asks for fairly deep shoves of the foot before bothering to respond.
Driving at low speeds reveals the CLS at its worst. There you are creeping along with your boring steering and weird throttle, annoying yourself with brake-induced body pitching every few seconds, and at this point you also notice a few nasty quirks like an oversupply of transmission shifting and engine braking.
So we've got a fancy-pants sedan with an appropriately luxurious engine, high-tech transmission, and exquisite suspension that doesn't know how to go, turn, or stop. It's the perfect car for those rocket scientists who never quite mastered arithmetic.
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