Get moving

By ALASTAIR SLOANE

Newsletters from the American Society of Procrastinators are always out of date.

That's the idea, see. One, in 1978, had a story about Jimmy Carter winning the 1976 presidency. Another, in 1981, mourned the "recent" death of Elvis Presley. A 1993 newsletter said that America and its allies had been fighting a war in the Gulf.

The society is what it says it is. Complaints about dated material and the irregularity of newsletters make the editor happy.

Becoming a member can take time. I joined in 1978, posting my application from Sacramento, California, to Radio City, New York.

A letter acknowledging it arrived in New Zealand in 1979. It said that donations to the society were welcome, "if you get round to sending them".

Later that year a fancy "certificate of membership" arrived. The editor said it would normally be accompanied by the latest newsletter, only this time he couldn't lay his hands on one. He promised to post it.

It arrived in 1980 with a letter saying that an even later newsletter would soon follow.

It did, about eight months on, with a letter saying that the very, very latest newsletter had been delayed.

Lots of editorial stuff had gone missing for the moment and would I meantime like a copy of the society's inaugural newsletter for my files?

And so it went on, each issue old, useless, but bags of fun. Haven't heard from the society for some years now. Probably get back to me one day.

My whacky old mate Patrick Daniel Clancy joined, too. He liked what the society stood for. We called him Banjo, after Australian bush poet Banjo Patterson's Clancy of the Overflow. Get it?

Banjo drove a 240 Volvo. Never more than about 60km/h and almost always alone. He liked it because he'd read that it was safe. He didn't know much about cars and hated paying for petrol and fixing flat tyres. But he liked gadgets.

One of the society's newsletters had a column on motoring tips.

They were dated, like everything else about the group, and mostly dealt with V8 engines. Banjo liked the story about a new-fangled pump thingy that pumped up flat tyres in an instant. One end screwed into one spark plug and the other on to the tyre valve. The car's engine was the compressor.

The story didn't say that the contraption had been around for decades. Typically, the newsletter presented it as breakthrough technology.

Last I heard, Banjo had sold the Volvo and bought an old 253V8 Holden. The society's V8 motoring tips must have made an impression. Either that or he's come into money to pay for petrol.

The society, Banjo and the pump thingy came to mind the other day on the road to the chateau in the $222,000 E55 Mercedes-Benz, the go-fast model from specialist AMG that rides 10mm lower than the standard E-Class.

This car doesn't have a spare tyre. Tucked away in the boot is a compressed air/pump thingy that uses a compound to seal and inflate a punctured tyre. It's an emergency, get-home measure.

Banjo would love that. He'd like the car's V8 engine too, a 5.5-litre supercharged unit pushing out 350kW (476bhp) at 6100rpm and 700Nm of torque between 2650 and 4500rpm.

He'd like the way the car carries its occupants along on a wave of torque. He'd like the fly-by-wire brake technology, the chassis, the variable air suspension, the body control as it glides over bumps in the road like a limousine before firming up sportscar-like to sweep flat through corners. And the three driver-adjustable damper settings.

The steering, too, is a delight: accurate, communicative, requiring few driver inputs. Banjo wouldn't worry about that.

But the car's top speed would scare him. So would the slingshot-like mid-range oomph, constantly on tap from the supercharger. It redefines the process of overtaking on New Zealand roads.

The engine in the E55 is electronically restricted to 250km/h, or 155mph. Remove the restrictor and the car will probably run beyond 300km/h, or 190mph. But doing so will make AMG cranky.

What makes AMG and its owners happy is the car's economy. Real-world fuel usage between Auckland and the chateau hovered between 11.4 and 12.6 litres/100km. On the way back it recorded between 9.9 and 11.6 litres/100km.

The only downside on the journey was a disconcerting rippling of the lightweight aluminium bonnet in disturbed air, created when the E55 and oncoming trucks met at a closing speed of around 200km/h.

Mercedes-Benz later tested the car and tightened a tension device in the bonnet. Banjo would have liked that gadget, too.

On reflection, the go-fast $230,000 Audi RS6 Avant stationwagon would probably be more to his liking, because of its load area. Its road-hugging quattro four-wheel-drive system would also do nicely. Banjo went all to pieces when the tail-end of a rear-drive car tucked out.

Like the E55, the RS6 is electronically confined to a top speed of 250km/h. It is powered by a twin-turbocharged 4.2-litre V8 producing 330kW (450bhp) between 5700 and 6400rpm and 560Nm of torque between 1900 and 5600rpm. Tests overseas show that it will run to 300km/h without the limiter.

The RS6 has a firmer ride than the E55. Its steering isn't as accurate, in that it requires more input from the driver at slow and fast speeds. But the traction from all four wheels is hugely impressive, especially in the wet. It gets up and goes from zero to about 50km/h quicker than some supercars.

It's also one of the best-built cars around. Audi is known for its fit and finish. It is precise, unlike the American Society of Procrastinators.