They rarely come up for sale, which is one reason why they command the price of a small fleet of C-Classes when they do. This 9940-mile example went on sale at Historics of Brooklands’ 26 November auction, which is how we’ve got the chance for an irresistible refresh of this extraordinary Benz.
The Mercedes didn’t sell when it first went on sale on the 26th November. It recieved an offer of around 200k, but is currently at Mercedes-Benz world, where it'll be on display for another week. A few prospective buyers are still sniffing around at the moment, and a lot of interest has been shown, according to a Historics of Brooklands spokesman. The 2004 Mercedes-Benz CLK DTM AMG is expected to be sold in the next few weeks, though.
The CLK DTM AMG is best defined by that middle bundle of letters, short for Deutsche Tourenwagen Masters. Yes, this is almost a DTM race car for the road, a fat-arched, aero-optimised, tarmac-skimming, kilogram-trimmed journey compactor. Inspired by the 2003 DTM championship-winning CLK of Bernd Schneider, its 574bhp borders on the absurd even today. It delivers ridiculous performance, too: 62mph can be yours in 3.9sec, almost 200mph is achievable, and its big-wheeled tyres will pull 1.35g. Yet it will idle quietly at a traffic light and doesn’t get grumpy during such tedious entrapments. But if you want to fly across the surface of the earth while retaining contact with it, just sink the alloy action pedal on the right.
Before that, though, you’ll discover that much of the base CLK’s manners survive intact. It’s quietly civilised. The automatic transmission is low effort, as is the steering, and the muscular ride rarely jolts. Keep the speed sane and you could find yourself wondering how this car’s interior qualified for such an extreme makeover. It includes the removal of the rear seats in favour of a carbonfibre-walled, carpet-floored well with a carbonfibre B-pillar crossbrace, as well as a carbonfibre centre console and door cards.
A five-point harness trusses you into a semi-enclosing race seat to face a small, subtly elliptical suede-edged wheel pimpled with buttons resembling intercom controls. They actually cycle the trip computer and appear to have come from the local electrical store, as do the centre console’s trio of metal toggles for chassis dynamics and transmission modes. This is a car whose modifications have been driven by pragmatism rather than aesthetics, an honesty of approach that’s all the more satisfying when you discover what it will do.
Wake you up, is what. No more than a mild stabbing of the throttle sends the Merc lunging cheetah-like at the horizon, its supercharged 5.4-litre V8 mixing bass thunder with rasping blare and the repeated need, if you’re in manual, to pluck at a paddle for the next gear. Of which there are only five, although this relative scarcity makes it a lot easier to know where you are compared with today’s eight and nine-speeders. And you won’t be thinking there’s a hole in the torque curve. This car bores a hole in the air like a soundbarrier-cracking jet.