We recently opined that there's
no godly reason to buy a G63 AMG. The styling's antiquated, it's utterly
terrifying to drive and it's horribly expensive. Truly, horribly expensive
- Mercedes has announced today that the G350 Bluetec will start from £82,945,
and the G63 AMG from... Wait for it... £123,115. One hundred and twenty three
THOUSAND pounds...
But that hasn't stopped swathes of you commenting that you
still want one. Badly. So we thought you deserved a bit of a G-Class history
lesson (it stopped being the G-Wagen in 1998, by the way)...
Darling of oligarchs, arms dealers and Richard Hammond, MB's
wheeled prison has, unsurprisingly, very military roots. More surprisingly,
it's not actually a dyed-in-the-wool Benz.
Back in the seventies, the Shah of Iran suggested to Mercedes that it might be a nice if it built an SUV (née 4x4). MB promptly hopped into bed with Austrian military vehicle manufacturer, Steyr-Daimler-Puch, and started creating the "Geländewagen" (German for cross-country vehicle) for civilian and military use.
A development program rumbled through most of the seventies, including excursions to German coalfields, the Sahara desert, and the Arctic Circle. And Steyr-Daimler-Puch began hand-building the G in the same Graz factory they're made in today, ready for its 1979 launch.
When it arrived on sale you could choose either a short (2400mm) or long (2850mm) wheelbase. The former came in two-door ragtop or wagon flavour, but the big ‘un was only available as a four-door wagon. You could also get both of the estates as windowless two-door vans, called Kastenwagen.
Underneath, they were sturdy old Hectors. The cubic body sits on top of a ladder chassis, under which SP fitted three fully locking differentials. Engine-wise, the lineup was all Mercedes. You could pick from a selection of three petrols (a 2.0-litre and 2.3-litre four-pot or a 2.8-litre six) and three diesels (a 2.4-litre four-cylinder diesel, or a 2.5-litre and 3.0-litre five-pot). Incidentally, all of the units appeared in one of James' favourites, the Mercedes W123.
Back in the seventies, the Shah of Iran suggested to Mercedes that it might be a nice if it built an SUV (née 4x4). MB promptly hopped into bed with Austrian military vehicle manufacturer, Steyr-Daimler-Puch, and started creating the "Geländewagen" (German for cross-country vehicle) for civilian and military use.
A development program rumbled through most of the seventies, including excursions to German coalfields, the Sahara desert, and the Arctic Circle. And Steyr-Daimler-Puch began hand-building the G in the same Graz factory they're made in today, ready for its 1979 launch.
When it arrived on sale you could choose either a short (2400mm) or long (2850mm) wheelbase. The former came in two-door ragtop or wagon flavour, but the big ‘un was only available as a four-door wagon. You could also get both of the estates as windowless two-door vans, called Kastenwagen.
Underneath, they were sturdy old Hectors. The cubic body sits on top of a ladder chassis, under which SP fitted three fully locking differentials. Engine-wise, the lineup was all Mercedes. You could pick from a selection of three petrols (a 2.0-litre and 2.3-litre four-pot or a 2.8-litre six) and three diesels (a 2.4-litre four-cylinder diesel, or a 2.5-litre and 3.0-litre five-pot). Incidentally, all of the units appeared in one of James' favourites, the Mercedes W123.
The amalgam of military underwear and German oily bits was a
successful one, and it soon found favour with the military - in its career,
it's seen service with 63 armies, and Mercedes has had to promise NATO that
it'll carry on building them till 2025. But there was a problem. When MB
started developing the G, the man they thought would buy it had straw in his
mouth, not a plum. And even though it offered some concessions to comfort with
its civilian versions, utilitarian innards and prosthetic-limb beige was still
very much par for the course, despite a comparatively high price tag.
This would all have been fine if the luxo-SUV hadn't just been invented by Range Rover. Obviously, MB wanted in, but instead of developing an all-new model to take on the RR, it threw some its saloon-car spec into the G.
The first major refinements came in 1981 and included an auto' box and air conditioning; a year later it got comfier front seats lifted from Benz's car line-up, auxiliary heating and wider tyres. Having generated some column inches with a Paris-Dakar rally win in ‘83, MB kept piling in the kit; by '87 it was fitting the G with electric windows, a power antenna and luggage covers.
In 1989 it got its first full pimp out - to celebrate the G's tenth anniversary, in came permanent four-wheel drive, wood trim, ABS, a top-spec interior and three electronically-locking differentials.
But in 2004, everything changed. The post '90 Gs were definitely luxurious, but they weren't quick, and its esoteric customer base started noticing. Mercedes' solution was simple - hand it over to in-house tuners, AMG. Subsequently, its squeezed in a 5.4-litre supercharged V8, 5.5-litre twin-turbo V8 and now there's the latest offering - a 6.0-litre twin-turbo V12, which produces 612hp and 737lb ft. In a car with a Cd of 0.53. That's the same as a 1969 Ford Torino convertible.
But clinging on to its antiquated styling, refusing to compromise on its off-road ability and stuffing it with Mercedes finery - and AMG power - has somehow kept the G alive, visually unchanged, for the last 33 years. And despite everything we're rather pleased it exists. Because it really, truly, shouldn't, even if it can do this.
source: http://www.topgear.com/uk/car-news/mercedes-benz-g-class-history-2012-05-15This would all have been fine if the luxo-SUV hadn't just been invented by Range Rover. Obviously, MB wanted in, but instead of developing an all-new model to take on the RR, it threw some its saloon-car spec into the G.
The first major refinements came in 1981 and included an auto' box and air conditioning; a year later it got comfier front seats lifted from Benz's car line-up, auxiliary heating and wider tyres. Having generated some column inches with a Paris-Dakar rally win in ‘83, MB kept piling in the kit; by '87 it was fitting the G with electric windows, a power antenna and luggage covers.
In 1989 it got its first full pimp out - to celebrate the G's tenth anniversary, in came permanent four-wheel drive, wood trim, ABS, a top-spec interior and three electronically-locking differentials.
But in 2004, everything changed. The post '90 Gs were definitely luxurious, but they weren't quick, and its esoteric customer base started noticing. Mercedes' solution was simple - hand it over to in-house tuners, AMG. Subsequently, its squeezed in a 5.4-litre supercharged V8, 5.5-litre twin-turbo V8 and now there's the latest offering - a 6.0-litre twin-turbo V12, which produces 612hp and 737lb ft. In a car with a Cd of 0.53. That's the same as a 1969 Ford Torino convertible.
But clinging on to its antiquated styling, refusing to compromise on its off-road ability and stuffing it with Mercedes finery - and AMG power - has somehow kept the G alive, visually unchanged, for the last 33 years. And despite everything we're rather pleased it exists. Because it really, truly, shouldn't, even if it can do this.
by Matthew Jones
http://www.boscheuropean.com
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