Freitag,
29. März 2024
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Stuttgart to Innsbruck
Security is airtight. A serious man named Wolf ("Like zee animal," he says without smiling) checks us in at the front gate. We trade our passports for I.D. badges and get a pass for our Challenger -- not that anyone would confuse our bright Orange Julius with any of the cars we'll be seeing today.
Where are we? We're in Stuttgart, Germany, entering a towering, tongue-twisting compound known as Daimler Konzernzentrale Mercedes-Benz Werk Unterturkheim.
In 2006, Unterturkheim became the site of Daimler AG's administrative headquarters and is part of a sprawling industrial complex that first came online in 1904, making it one of the company's most historic locations. It's the Stuttgart region's biggest employer, with more than 23,000 employees on site. Unterturkheim is the center of development, production, and shipment of engines, transmissions, and axles for Mercedes-Benz cars, producing vital components for more than one million vehicles a year.
Daimler runs its Maybach, AMG, smart, Freightliner, Mitsubishi FUSO commercial truck (85-percent owned by Daimler), Detroit diesel and associated business like Mercedes-Benz bank and Mercedes-Benz financial from Unterturkheim. And of course, up until recently, Chrysler, formerly the second half of the Daimler name.
It's an impressive operation situated smack dab in the middle of Stuttgart, not some distant, sleepy HQ, away from the action. It's a crowded, bustling epicenter alive with activity. In one of the buildings is company founder Gottlieb Daimler's original garage. Across the street is the new Mercedes-Benz Museum -- all seven stories of it -- crammed with every major achievement by the three-pointed star. Scattered everywhere are Benzes of every shape and size, including a few camouflaged development cars we can't really talk about (they have our passport numbers and we're still within "range").
But none of these is the reason we've gathered in the security office at seven in the morning. No, we're here for Mercedes-Benz's famous vertical test track.
Along with everything else they do at Unterturkheim, Mercedes-Benz also performs vehicle testing -- lots of it. Just behind the front gates and under the major Stuttgart freeway overpass that bisects the compound is a winding, multi-use test track. It is everything you've seen in decades'-worth of Mercedes commercials -- miles of roadway composed of every possible surface imaginable -- from uneven cobblestones and weathered asphalt to expansion-jointed freeway concrete and exhaust scraping sections of broken tarmac. It is the kind of track lesser automakers dream of -- all on a scale that lends instant credibility to the brand. As we pull in, the day's testing day has already begun; everything from A-Class subcompacts and G-Wagen SUVs to Freightliner commercial vans and full size buses is running the course.
From there, we head to the crown jewel of the track, a section of 90-degree banked oval -- yes, folks, this sucker gets vertical. For some perspective, the banking on NASCAR's Bristol, Tennessee, circuit is a maximum 36 degrees.
Wolf hands us off to another serious colleague, a silver-haired test driver who speaks not a word of English. We immediately pile into his ML-Class SUV for a sighting lap -- photographer Brian and videographer Terren are looking for vantage points.Angus and I are trying to get a feel for what it's like to drive like Spiderman. It's only after he mumbles something about 90 kilometers and points out the stretches of tarmac to avoid on the return route that it dawns on us -- we're actually going to get to drive the Challenger on this thing. This will be interesting.
To be clear, this is nothing like the banking at Brooklands, where we were earlier this week. Though cracked and pitted, any reasonable healthy person devoid of an inner-ear disorder can amble up and down the gentle curvature of the legendary British circuit. Not so at Unterturkheim. Stand next to it and it may not look so impressive -- particularly to a generation raised on skateboard ramps and snowboard parks -- but then try scaling it. Unless your name is Peter Parker, you won't get more than halfway up at walking speed. While a running start gets you further -- you're in for an ugly landing.
With the Challenger wired up for video (we'll have all the action for you soon!), Angus disappears with a roar down the track. Ten minutes later, he pulls back in with an ear-to-ear grin and a cryptic bit of advice. "Too many of those will make you nauseous," he says before checking the footage.
Now it's my turn. I strap in and try to remember the lap with the test driver. Apparently the key with banked tracks is to avoid the natural inclination to turn the steering wheel. The road ahead arcs quickly to the right -- but because the track is banked so steeply -- the car shouldn't need any steering input. It should behave as though you're driving straight into a continuous bowl. I bring the Challenger rapidly up to speed, easy to do with the 425-hp HEMI under the hood.
At 50 mph, the right half of the car suddenly falls away and takes the pit of my stomach with it. It feels as though the Challenger is hanging by the driver-side door, but there's no sensation of sliding toward the bottom of the track -- in fact, the car feels even more stable than it did on approach. With the suspension fully loaded, I can feel the g forces start to work on my head and neck. Keeping my head up and eyes looking straight out the windshield requires extra effort, but I'm rewarded with a concave horizon -- no sky, just the onrushing road ahead. I relax my deathgrip on the wheel as the horizon straightens out, and I go for two more laps. By the end of the third lap, which I take at nearly 70 mph, I understand what Angus means. I'm feeling queasy. Still, it's easier than I thought it would be.
When I pull back into the staging area, Wolfman and Angus are talking about the rest of the day's activities. MacKenzie has told him about our plans to find the Challenger's maximum velocity on the A81 to Wurzburg. Wolf's scowling a bit. "I've just heard there is a big accident that direction. Plus, I don't think you have enough unrestricted roadway for your attempt," he shrugs. He recommends hitting the A7 around Ulm after a lunch stop in the old town of Dinkelsbuhl. "It will be less crowded with tourists than Rothenburg," he advises.
We turn in our badges, shake hands with the Wolf, and head on our way.
Dinkelsbuhl is indeed everything the Wolf said it would be -- quaint, picturesque, and less crowded than Germany's more popular medieval towns -- though there are still a surprising number of tourists, including several Americans. As we pull in through the gates of this walled city, a family of four in shorts and T-shirts points at us and marches right over. Dad is particularly amazed. "I read about the car and this trip on the way over," he says, referring to the introduction printed in our latest issue.
While snapping a few shots in front of the huge Gothic church in the city center, we attract the attention of another group of American tourists -- this time middle-schoolers. They can't seem to figure out what the Challenger is doing here. In fact, they can't even figure out what it is.
"What is it?" asks one bespectacled female.
"Duh, that's the 2009 Camaro!"exclaims a pimply faced redhead, between flashes of his digital camera. "It's not even on sale yet -- but you know I'm getting one!" he continues.
The German locals seem a little more in the know. We draw curious looks and inquiries whenever we stop. While we're parked for lunch at a local cafe, a few neighborhood kids lay down their bikes to stare. My German is nicht so gut, but what they say needs no translation. "Chall-en-jar, Es Ar Tay Acht," one of the boys sounds out. "Ooh, Americanische musclekar!," he exclaims to his buddies. They murmur in appreciation.
Ten minutes later, as we're finishing up our kaffe, we're greeted by loud bass bumping out of a lowered Renault Megane. As we turn to look, out steps a skinny dude in a sleeveless T-shirt, sucking on a limp cigarette. With the latest track by Madonna and JT bouncing off the old buildings and city walls, he wordlessly snaps a few camera phone pics before hopping back in his car, turning up the volume, and roaring down the street -- looking just as tough as he possibly can. It's so bizarre, we can't stop laughing as we pack up and head for Ulm.
Reaching terminal velocity in the Challenger could be tricky -- it's not the car we're worried about, it's the weather. Dark storm clouds are gathering ahead, and there is a quite a bit of traffic heading down this stretch of unrestricted autobahn. We have no choice; this is our last day in Germany.
We're shooting for the highest mile per hour we can safely pull on these smooth two-lane highways. Yesterday, on the way to Stuttgart, we managed an indicated 157 mph -- and that was on a slight incline. We hear the Challenger will do 166 mph under ideal conditions, impressive for such a heavy car with old-school aerodynamics.
We test this theory the moment signs indicate unrestricted speed limit (a single line of tire tread across a white circle). The only reason we can attempt this is because of the social phenomenon known as German lane discipline. Unlike most drivers in the rest of the world, Germans pay attention to their mirrors and use the left lane only for passing. Even when they are passing, if they see faster traffic coming up from behind, they will pull to the right as soon as possible. At least that is the theory; we find out nearly immediately though that it is not always the case. The big problem appears to be the high volume of commercial truck traffic on the A7. The speed difference between cars and trucks means that, despite the good driving etiquette, we're constantly on the brakes to avoid cars pulling into our lane to make a pass. Apparently, Germans don't like being stuck behind trucks either.
In the few open sections we do encounter, the SRT8 easily pulls to140 mph. It's an exhilarating, yet effortless sensation; plant the throttle and 6.1 liters of bellowing American iron turn the roadside vegetation into a massive green blur. That sound is what sets the scalp tingling, but it's what doesn't happen that is ultimately more impressive. As the speedo cracks 120, then 130, and 140, only the wind noise and engine pitch increase.
Aside from that, there are no other sensations you're doing over twice the legal U.S. speed limit. No lightness in the steering wheel, no lifting sensation, nary a trace of instability. Bridging the gap to 150 and beyond takes a little longer, but there is still no dropoff in stability -- which is very impressive. Even lifting the throttle at 150 for the inevitable VW Polo that has pulled into our lane at 80 mph is no big deal. The only bit of uneasiness occurs during transition to the brakes. The Challenger's brake pedal has a long travel, with little feel at first. It's initially disconcerting, but after a few hard and fast stops, the Brembos become easy to predict and modulate.
"She's got great tires," critiques Angus, "but she's still a heavy car -- and that works for and against her at speed."
Even so, we manage to hit 150 mph several times near Ulm, despite the increasing traffic. We even touch 159 (indicated by the digital speedo), before a light rain starts to fall.
Undaunted, we exit and try again on the northbound A7, hoping for less traffic. But it's no good; despite several impressive stretches at 140 mph -- akin to supercruising in a jet fighter -- we never go faster than that 159. As conditions turn from drizzling to pelting, limiting visibility and slowing traffic considerably, Angus decides to pull the plug. "That'll have to do, boys," he says as we turn toward autobahn-restricted Austria.
Photographer Brian is not amused. "This is modern Germany -- where you can only drive a fast car on the autobahn at 159 mph. What a buncha bull," he sneers in mock disgust. No, 159 isn't 166, but it's still damn good given the conditions. We'll see how she handles the curves when we make a run down the famous Stelvio pass tomorrow. Stay tuned.
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