Accept that performance is as much about accessibility as outright pace, and the SLR might just have more of it than any other car. It’s stupifyingly rapid. It will hit 60mph in 3.8sec and 100mph in 7.6sec, 150mph in 16.4sec and pile on to over 190mph at Bruntingthorpe simply by pumping the double-hinged throttle and gripping the steering wheel. In the supercar hierarchy, that puts the SLR on almost exactly the same level as the Porsche Carrera GT, and a little behind the Ferrari Enzo.
Traction is probably the SLR’s best trick. With 51 per cent of its mass over the rear wheels, it has the ability to pour more power through its 295-section rear tyres than any front-engined car we’ve ever driven. Its natural cruising speed, the point at which the car seems happiest, is about 165mph.
You’d expect something special from a stiff carbon tub suspended by double wishbones at each corner combined with McLaren brains working on the damper tuning, and the SLR doesn’t disappoint. The ride is firm, but its relative compliancy is the key to its success.
Its undoing is a lack of insulation. Suspension noise is so pronounced that it can convince you the car isn’t riding well, when the opposite is true. Every impact is heard, but not necessarily felt.
The steering is less successful. With just 2.2 turns lock-to-lock it’s a fast rack, especially off-centre. Only the smallest inputs are required to tip the SLR into a turn. This, combined with the fact that you sit so close to the rear axle and have a huge bonnet poking out in front of you, makes for a strange cornering posture.
Time and familiarity will diminish much of that intimidation, and after a few hours we were happy switching the traction control off (this is the only Benz where off really means off) and hurling it around. It naturally understeers, and the way the steering column rattles and kicks back under extreme load confirms it as a true Merc.