Dan Neil takes a Mercedes CLK 63 out for a spin on the Autobahn.
The early morning sky is gray, the traffic is light. I have the top down and it’s rather windy in the cockpit. Actually, at a buck-55, it’s like being inside God’s own novelty whistle.
No question about it. Fast feels good. No matter what else you may think about high-performance automobiles — that they are reprehensible gas guzzlers, that they are compensations for guys who shower with their shorts on — no one can reasonably dispute speed’s pure, gleeful joy. If movement is action, fast feels like you’re accomplishing something. Fast is the kinesthetic equivalent of beautiful.