2006 Mercedes CLS 500

I love luxury cars.

The Mercedes Benz CLS 500 is clearly a luxury car.

Prepare yourself for a shock: I love the CLS 500.

If you, like me, enjoy supple leather interiors, refined exhaust notes that hint at jet pack levels of acceleration, and driver controls that accommodate every level of urgency from comfortable cruising to frenzied flailing, I recommend you drive one.

CLS 500 grade: A

Sorry for doing this to you.

Murdered out Prius....

2001 Toyota Tacoma: A Blast From The Past

One of the best vehicles I've ever owned was a 1983 Toyota 4X4 pickup. That little monster, in white with tan interior, furiously flung mud and rocks across half of King County without a single hiccup. The only weakness in the drive train popped up on the street, where it chewed up and spit out a head gasket in sadly inglorious two wheel drive.

I've loved other Toyota trucks since, but that first one really set the mold. That's why I was so excited to deliver a Tacoma today.

This 2001 Tacoma SR5 4X4 was a 4 cylinder 5 speed with white paint and a tan interior. Sure, it was an extended cab with bucket seats and A/C, but I could see past these improvements and if I squinted hard enough catch a glimmer of the tractor-like durability of my old sweetheart.

I loved this Tacoma. It wasn't fast, it didn't corner or stop worth a damn, and it sure isn't fuel efficient. But this truck is pure, simple fun. No, I didn't get a chance to engage 4 Lo or throw rooster tails of goo across the woods, but this little truck clearly conveyed its willingness to do so while stubbornly rumbling through the afternoon traffic of Bellevue.

Yes, a 2001 Tacoma is further removed from my 1983's simplistic perfection, but the compromise of comfort over minimalism is worth the trade. The bucket seats are light years beyond a 1983 era bench in comfort, the modern HVAC is far more effective than the 'asthmatic huffing through a straw' worthlessness of the old rig, and an available extended cab is a welcome improvement to leg room.

In short, I want one.

2001 Tacoma grade: A

2001 Mercedes CLK430

This is one of my favorite body styles of all time. The gentle curve from head to tail lights, the elegant chunkiness, and the rugged visual simplicity conspire to generate a truly beautiful vehicle to my eye.

This specific specimen, this 4.3 liter V8 equipped convertible with automatic transmission and every available option should therefore have captured my heart. It didn't.

The gas pedal was heavy and stubborn.

The brakes were vague and confidence sapping.

The seats were hard and flat.

I can see the argument for this vehicle from a visual perspective, but as far as things that I want to live with on a daily commute, I believe I'd rather have cholera.

Mercedes CLK430 grade: F

2010 Toyota Tundra

Hi, my name is Matt, and I drove a Tundra.

Here is where you respond with, "Hi, Matt" and we discuss why I'll never drive another Tundra again.

The 2010 full size Toyota pickup known as the Tundra is terrible.

Let me back up.

I can say nice things about this thing. I love the V8's power band. I love any Toyota truck's looks in white. Since those are the two things I like, I can now move forward to everything else.

The full size Tundra has a large interior swathed in inexpensive materials, which make sense in a truck that costs only $20,000. Being that this one was nearly $40,000 though, it was shocking. The seats are uncomfortable, the leg room constricting, and the plastics on the dash and door panels clearly share their origin with the blister packs your childhood GI Joe's came in. Ugh.

Then there's the brakes. Maybe the one I drove was the exception, and I'm willing to entertain that possibility. But not until my face peels off the windshield. Seriously, Toyota, brake pedals are not switches, they need more positions between off and locked up with all four tires smoking in the left lane of the freeway.

Luckily, I couldn't see the accidents I'd caused behind me. The visibility from the driver's seat is horrible. The hood, fenders and bed all slope away from view, and in a truck as big as a Tundra, you need to see corners for a point of reference when driving:

1. on the road

2. in a parking lot

3. off road

4. on planet earth

After driving a Tundra around for 45 minutes, I clambered out and handed the keys enthusiastically to the unfortunate owner. Then I climbed into a 2008 Ford F450 Crewcab Diesel Dually. All those letters and numbers add up to one very large vehicle, by the way. One big enough to tow 20,000 some odd pounds. Large enough to terrify Prius owners. I climbed into the rig and couldn't believe the difference. The interior was awesome (all controls and buttons were easily reached and made of fine materials), the controls smooth and controllable, and the corners visible. I drove the F450 back on the reverse route and was cleansed.

Toyota Tundra grade: F

Yesterday was good.

Yesterday I drove a 2007 Jaguar XJ and a Maserati Gran Sport. For a car geek like myself, this is not dissimilar to my buddy Justin Barksdale meeting Derek Jeter and Ichiro Suzuki. Essentially, I got to shake hands with greatness, but they were great in different ways.

By contrast, the two cars I drove yesterday couldn't be less alike. The Jag (my second 20 mile jaunt in an XJ in two days) was relaxed and comfortable. It was clearly designed to deliver me to my destination without drama. Yes, it accelerates quickly, and the car is capable of being sporty, but it always feels as though it's trying to run while wearing a three piece suit. 

The Maserati, on the other hand, wants to be driven as though one's hair is on fire. Yes, it has a semi-automatic transmission (the clutch is computer controlled, unlike automatic transmissions with paddle shifters), and yes the car weighs 3400 some odd pounds, but from behind the finely stitched leather wrapping the steering wheel, you can clearly sense the passion of its design. I climbed into the Maserati and drove it 300 feet to a stop sign, where I turned left and goosed the throttle. With no hesitation, the car ripped from idle to red line while screaming from the top of its Italian designed lungs and I grabbed second gear while holding the slide and preparing for lift off. Yes, you could argue that on paper the Maserati is all wrong, but in the moment, while tearing the fabric of the space time continuum, there is nowhere I'd rather be. The steering wheel is perfectly placed and weighted, the flappy paddles are exactly the correct distance from your fingertips when rocketing towards 60  miles per hour sideways, and the pedals are responsive to the point of telepathy. In essence, the car not only responds with immediacy to your every desire, it is designed in such a way that you become at one with its finely refined magnificence.

And here is where the two cars merge by comparison: refinement. Both the Maserati and Jaguar are immeasurably perfected. On paper they can be beaten by less expensive cars; whether measured by 0-60 times, lateral G's, or trinkets and baubles (neither car is class leading in available options). But unlike the BMW 745i, the Jaguar XJ replaces 400 seat adjustment options with 4. And those 4 options are perfect. The Nissan GTR has a finely tuned, computer controlled, and precision engineered AWD system that plants power to the ground with clinical efficiency, but the Maserati rockets forward with passionate immediacy delivered by only the smoke spewing rear tires. This is Smokey and the Bandit style smoke spewing rear tires. It brings childhood fantasies to life.

Yes, the Jag and Maserati seem to fall short to their competition by all measurable standards. But so does a well wrought beer like the Arrogant Bastard Ale when compared to Coors Light. It is in the experiencing of these refined products that one is reminded of their superiority.

Refinement, it seems, is worth the cost.

Maserati Grade: A+