KEY POINTS:
How to qualify the Mercedes-Benz CLK 63 AMG Black Series? Think of it as a supercar - only a lot more special. Black is the label reserved by AMG for its most track-oriented models and has been used only once, on a limited-edition version of the SLK roadster.
The Black is a dead-ringer for the wide-bodied CLK previously used as Formula One's safety car.
But it's no mere dress-up - the 6.2-litre V8 engine has been fettled to 378kW (standard car 354kW), that outrageous body kit includes carbon-fibre bits and a functioning rear diffuser to suck it towards the ground at racing speeds, and a lot of stuff has been torn out to keep the weight down, including electric motors for seats and steering wheel adjustment, the rear accommodation and curtain airbags.
Mercedes-Benz New Zealand has, however, sneaked a few luxuries back in, such as sat-nav, cellphone wiring and - what else? - a cupholder.
How do you justify the $88,100 premium over the standard CLK 63 AMG, which has more equipment and is a mere 0.5 seconds slower to 100km/h?
The truth is, no one has to. The CLK is nothing like as raw as the Black and isn't anywhere near as exclusive or desirable.
With just eight Black Series models coming to New Zealand, those with a hint of madness in their eyes and the wherewithal in their pockets will be forming an orderly queue. It makes the most ridiculous noise, even at start-up - little wonder kids all over Auckland had their camera phones prepped by the time I rumbled down the road.
It's automatic, as are all AMGs, but don't think it's an unresponsive softy.
The so-called AMG-Speedshift still has three models, including full paddle-shift manual, and 630Nm to play with, which is plenty to move the tail sideways even if you're going at 120km/h in a straight line - so I'm told.
The Black rides on "threaded" suspension that you can adjust with tools to set the car up for particular racetracks. Pretty serious stuff.
In truth, a hopelessly wet weekend stopped play in the Black and it's probably just as well.
It has the full gamut of electronic driver aids, but there's little that can contain 378kW and a rear-drive chassis.
You want to hear that racing exhaust note at high revs - it pops and crackles on over-run - but as soon as you plant the throttle the rear tyres have a tenuous connection with terra firma, even at three-figure speeds. It's exciting and I was glad to give it back in one piece. It's beautifully balanced but simply brutal.
As it's a CLK, it should be quite practical. And it is, sort of. It rides well and has a big, 435-litre boot.
But it's probably not as practical as you think. The massive body kit means steep vehicle entrances and narrow streets take on a menacing aspect, and visibility isn't great because you drop down so far into the racing seats. Lifting yourself out of them all the time is a pain, too. No parking radar, either.
Listen to me - pathetic. Forget about commuting or parking because this is an ultra-exclusive, full-blown supercar and don't you forget it. Having driven it in anger, I certainly won't.
