C-CLASS GROUPIE
‘I am a young executive. No cuffs than mine are cleaner;
I have a Slimline brief-case and I use the firm’s Cortina.’
Substitute the Cortina with any of these five premium D-segment offerings and, despite being penned 40 years ago, the first two lines of Sir John Betjeman’s poem Executive still strike a chord in a country which remains uniquely disposed towards company car ownership schemes.
Read the rest of the poem and it’s clear, moreover, that all that’s really changed since 1974 is a GL, GLS and GT Saturday morning golf club gravel pecking-order replaced by performance badging now devalued to the status of mere trim level.
Hence a non-M-powered BMW 320d M Sport, a non-AMG-powered Mercedes-Benz C220 BlueTEC AMG Line, a no-more-powerful-than-standard Lexus IS 300h F Sport and an Audi A5 Sportback 2.0 TDI SE Technik (presumably because an S line variant with faux RS badging wasn’t available) are here joined by an innocent Infiniti Q50 2.2D Auto Premium.
Replace the letters in a box of Scrabble tiles with diverse automotive brand styling cues before tripping over en route to the table, and there’s every danger you’ll find yourself staring down at a Clotted Cream Infiniti Q50. The whole, rounded off with a quick blast of a blowtorch, could, of course, gel superbly. But it just doesn’t.
Though somewhat long in the tooth now, the Audi still looks pretty enough. It’s not as svelte as the A7, but that elegant, gently sinuous, A5-defining crease running the full length of the profile above the door handles remains second only to that of the Maserati Khamsin in my lexicon of favourite unbroken lines.
Happily, catwalk-worthy BMW couture is back. Despite pedestrian impact legislation forcing bonnets ever higher, the nose still gives great groundhog and the front is very elegant indeed, with a wonderful three dimensional depth to the kidney grille. With flanks mercifully free of over-much pressed metal peregrination and the back a simple, generic BMW stern, the whole is entirely handsome.
Finished in Incredibly White, our Lexus long-termer strikes me as easily the finest eye candy here, even if the front does try a little too hard. The razor-sharp daytime running lights separated from the complex main headlamp cluster look marvellous, But I’m not so crazy about a grille reminiscent of Cheri Blair preparing for a self-fund-raiser with an application of chrome lipstick.
Clearly a deliberate sop to those who wish to travel first class but are fiscally pinned back in premium economy, everything about the new Mercedes yells S-class left in the boil wash a tad too long. All of these machines would snug into pretty much the same sized cardboard box, but the C-class looks as if it would occupy rather more overall volume than any other, particularly astern. Road presence through bulk rather than bravado?
The Infiniti interior is the original curate’s egg. Bafflingly, the centre console boasts twin touch screens. The lower is the sharpest, best looking and most touch sensitive I’ve ever come across, whilst the upper is positively bohemian by comparison. Such a set-up threatens jaded operator confusion at every turn, and I can only assume the designers opted for this conceit for the same reason that a dog licks its balls…
An otherwise acceptable driving position is marred by a ridge running along the base of the backrest which, now I’m aware of it, is a constant source of irritation; a plank in the back of the pants.
All looks predictably tidy and well executed aboard the Audi. Manual seat adjustment poses no problems but, alas, manual transmission certainly does. With the steering wheel already offset to the right of the seat, the over-intrusive transmission tunnel forces the pedals even further out of kilter, leaving the driver ready for action at a distinct diagonal. Lob in a helm that won’t adjust far enough south into the equation, and it’s just impossible to get truly comfortable behind the wheel.
Sorry, but the 3 Series interior simply doesn’t deliver on the promise of the exterior. The flat, slightly lifeless instrument binnacle, unappealing switchgear and muddy blue-on-blue sat’ nav’ screen presentation are starting to feel somewhat drab, whilst the electric indicator operation, fiddly auto gear lever and complex multimedia screen access are constant ergonomic irritations. And manual seat adjustment’s a nightmare…
Pull the lever to adjust the seat height, and the whole shooting match simply rockets south like a V2 out of fuel. You must then somehow get your weight off it, holding your rump in mid-air at the height you wish the feebly-sprung seat to attain. Absurd. There are less taxing aerobics involved in visiting a public lavatory with which you’d rather not have any actual contact.
Brushed satin replacing brash chrome, the Lexus fields my favourite interior here. Fabulous build quality is complimented by neat little details such as touch-sensitive sliding air-conditioning controls, a sliding instrument binnacle dial and windows that slow at the point of closure to up the posh quotient. Bags of innovation, flair and attention to detail backed up with a pleasingly unique visual modernity. It is, moreover, an extremely cosseting driving environment with the most comfortable seat, and steering wheel for that matter, here.
First impressions of the Mercedes interior certainly deliver the intended opulence, and the driving position’s fine, though you do need to hike the seat up to get a respectable view out. Save for a piano black-finished centre console wider and more limpid than an East Sussex hammer pond, however, I feel the ensemble leans more towards A-class than S-class, and I’ve already discussed that in reference to the GLA.
The rotating knob controlling Mercedes’ admirable COMAND Online system is here complimented by a new touch pad system built into what used to simply be a wrist rest for same. Inexplicably, the two control systems do almost exactly the same job but seem randomly interlinked, making it occasionally necessary to use both to fulfil a function once operable through the dial alone.
I spent so long in assorted lay-bys trying to establish if the tandem installation improves on its predecessor in any way whatsoever that I have so far been offered guest membership of at least three dogging websites.
Sadly, short of the ability to draw individual navigation destination letters onto the pad with my useless left hand as an alternative to dial input (imagine a negative image of a spider, abdomen dipped in ink, on the move after 8 pints of Magner’s cider and you’ll get the picture), I came up empty handed.
The only machine here not to plod the predictable path of segment-core 2.0 litre diesel power is the IS 300h. The IS did once house a 2.2 litre diesel, but only for about as long as takes to fall off a horse. Despite the fact that it was respectably lusty and smoother than a freshly buttered banister, it was canned the instant hybrid drive was installed in the IS for the first time.
Lexus’ meld of 2.5 litre, 178bhp petrol engine and 141bhp electric motor still works better than any other non-hypercar hybrid system available, and is notably smooth, quite and pleasingly accelerative around town. If, however, you spank the map in the expected manner of machines in this segment, matters become marginally less wholesome.
Despite engineering efforts to more closely match engine revs and acceleration in the manner of a conventional automatic, under heavy throttle the CVT box still can’t help but moo the engine straight to the point of peak power output, the noise of heifer branding unabated thereafter ’til the car catches up. Less enthusiastic throttle input is rewarded by a kinder aural experience, but this is an F Sport badged car, making such behaviour feel somewhat contradictory.
The biggest disappointment, however, is in fuel economy. Quoting 60+, our long termer is registering less than 38mpg. Ultra low CO2, NOx and particulate emissions are both VED band-friendly and entirely laudable, but they don’t reward Mr Slimline-Briefcase with cash back at the pumps…
I’m not alone in having expressed a mild lack of gruntle at the perceived refinement inadequacies of Mercedes’ 2134cc turbodiesel, also powering the Q50. Truth is, though, after time spent in the Lexus, every diesel here seems somewhat intrusive.
The Mercedes unit may seem a tad raucous at tickover and, indeed, vibrates sufficiently to set the head of an open rear door aquiver like a damp spaniel on a 200 bird shoot, but compared to the Infiniti installation, it’s a blob of mercury oozing over a mirror.
About as refined as Sir Les Patterson, the Q50’s mahogany engine mount bushings send so much vibration through the cabin I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that the car sells exclusively to unfulfilled housewives who, bored of sitting atop their washing machines during the spin cycle, seek adventure of a new and different kind.
Audi’s 1968cc unit is smoother than both, yet does still transmit a fair degree of consistent high frequency vibration through the controls when under way, leaving the 1995cc of BMW turbodiesel to thrum away in the least intrusive manner of the four.
On the move, whatever modest on-paper performance disparity extant between these familiar units is all but washed away, the Lexus compensating for a serious dearth of engine torque with eager assistance from an electric motor which develops 221lb ft from, well, zero rpm. In truth, none of these cars ever feels especially rapid but, the lightest car here, the BMW feels consistently quickest through the gears, with neither Mercedes nor Infiniti appearing to benefit much from the engagement of more sporting drive modes.
Indeed, such tomfoolery in the Q50 merely goads the gearbox into offering up unpleasant snatch in an abundance more usually associated with the arches behind King’s Cross station.
The Infiniti’s ride, acceptably on a decent surface, rapidly falls apart to become fretful and indecisive if challenged in any way. Meanwhile, of three steering weights advertised on screen, ‘Light’ is strangely unavailable, and ‘Standard’ is already sufficiently heavy, inert and insensitive to make ‘Heavy’ a choice fit only for Cro-Magnon man. In all, so corrupted does the system feel that you’ve more chance of threading a needle wearing oven gloves than you have of placing this car accurately in a corner. I quickly tired of trying.
The A5’s steering toes the traditional Audi line, ticking the accuracy box but spoiling the ballot paper somewhat when asked to vote on involvement. The ride, however, is a disaster, steadfastly refusing to settle down at any velocity.
At lower speeds it feels like riding a jellyfish trapped in the surf; the poor thing sloshes about all over the place, as if several key suspension mounting nuts have not been adequately tightened, or, indeed, simply omitted altogether. The only front wheel drive car here, the Sportback is far more willing to smear into understeer than any of these rivals, and there’s no pleasure in pressing hard for dynamic details. Floats like a butterfly, stings like a butterfly.
The IS 300h’s lowered, F Sport suspension generates an over-tough ride for a car capable of such quiet, oleaginous and otherwise comfortable movement, I’d have the standard model on 15″ wheels.
Though the second heaviest car here and hardly the last word in agility (you do feel that weight when pressing on), the Lexus puts both Infiniti and Audi to shame with superior body control and respectable steering delivering handling that never quite lives up to the promise of that styling. It takes time to acclimatise to the brakes, which, incorporating regeneration, are particularly tricky to modulate smoothly at low speed.
I’ve driven the 3.5 litre V6 armed IS 350 on a circuit in Japan and thought it a worthy dynamic match for the 3 Series; proper fun. What a shame we’ll never see the likes in the UK.
On the move, the BMW is, quite simply, a joy. Dynamically, it’s peerless in this company. Allied to adaptive M Sport suspension, configurable drive modes are there for the asking, but why bother? This is, after all, only a 2.0 litre diesel and all is just dandy if left well alone in Comfort mode.
The steering’s fabulous, ride quality first class, body control superb, and the 320d remains wonderfully planted at all times. The incessant tingle of road surface information doesn’t equate to a hard ride in the least, even retaining admirable pliancy when you engage more sporting modes. It handles with such ruthless poise, precision and adjustability that –but for the size of envelope around you- you’ll quickly forget you’re aboard a family saloon.
The Mercedes’ new Agility Select system works in tandem with the optional AirMATIC suspension to allow tailoring of suspension, steering and powertrain through Comfort, ECO, Sport, Sport+ and Individual modes. Use the rocker switch and all systems beef up in tandem, but visit yet another lay-by to unearth the Individual setting and tailor each one in turn.
This I would advocate, because whilst Sport+ gets the powertrain about as enthused as it’s ever going to be, the added weigh to the steering feels somewhat artificial, akin to a pair of small sandbags hung off opposing spokes. Left to its own devices, the steering lacks nothing for accuracy and is perfectly pleasing to use, though I have yet to unearth the degree of feel over which others have enthused.
The ride, meanwhile, is a mixed bag. Clearly engineered with comfort as a priority, the C-class never feels as consistently planted as the BMW and lacks parity with latter’s flat, fluid progress by some margin.
There’s a slightly unusual background quality to the air suspension set-up here; the unwarranted bounce of the over-inflated children’s sleep-over mattress. Mercedes is proud of the weight savings inherent in the use of five times more aluminium than that in the previous C-class, but one can’t help wondering if it is that very lack of mass which dictates that the car never quite settles into the sublimely confident stride of its larger, S-class sibling.
It is comfortable in the cruise, but a little let down by gently disappointing levels of straight line body control which dialling in sporting driving modes does little to shackle, simply adding occasional rough surface judder.
It’s almost as if Mercedes could not bring itself to entirely plump for comfort as a USP and, thus, has fallen between the two stools of ride comfort and dynamic prowess. The C-class may be hustled along at a respectable lick, but don’t for one moment expect to enjoy the experience as you will in a 3 Series.
The Infiniti bafflingly unresolved in both design and engineering terms, and the Audi representing a rare fall from grace from the German juggernaut, we’re left with Mercedes, BMW and Lexus on the podium.
There’s much to admire about the IS300h, particularly when travelling in stooge mode. For me, however, the sophistication of the powertrain does not yet equate to a harder-charging driving experience appropriate to the design flair on display, yet alone fuel consumption parity with a run-of-the-mill turbodiesel.
For accommodation and the opulence of the environment, the new C-class leaves the 3 Series deep in the shade. On the move, however, the tables are turned more than somewhat and, if I’m allowed to wear a blindfold whilst driving, I’ll take the BMW.