Mercedes-Benz 250CE – From Rush Hour with Love

Monday morning, London, rush hour. Arguably not the greatest time and place to be thinking of conducting a road test of a fifty-year-old car. But bear with me, this will all make sense. (And yes, before you ask, this all happened before those cheeky scamps from Blue put the city on lockdown…)

A potent infusion of strong black coffee at the Hoxton headquarters of the Classic Car Club is a necessary eye-opener at the bleary dawn of the week, as their cavernous lair requires a certain amount of alertness in order to take it all in. Every corner hides another shimmering retro treat, and this is a hidden garage with a lot of corners… although I’m not here to pore over the ’77 911 Carrera or the race-rep Dolomite Sprint, splendid as they are. No, I have a very specific target in mind: the 1970 Mercedes-Benz 250CE. A pleasingly rakish piece of design, it is in many respects the ideal choice for modern urban motoring. While it’s hard at first to narrow down your choices when presented with a vast garage of desirable classics, a seventies Merc just ticks all of the boxes; aside from the fact that these cars are very much in the ascendant these days, both in value and desirability, it’s the irresistible combination of crisp, timeless lines and proven sturdy mechanicals (as one would find underpinning every other taxi in developing countries across the globe) which makes it a supremely logical commuter choice.

The W114/W115 generation of Mercedes has a well-deserved reputation for being built like tanks. Launched in 1968, the revered Paul Bracq took care of the styling, and the model is broadly noted for its uncanny ability to span a wide range of socio-economic points and means of utility – from taxis to limousines and everything in between – while all looking fundamentally similar. This was Mercedes’ first post-war model to feature a clean-sheet chassis rather than borrowing from previous models, and its innovative setup of semi-trailing rear arms and ball-joint front end would endure until the 1980s. While the saloons enjoyed a plethora of engine options, most notably the diesels which seem to go on forever, the coupé variant was offered with just the 2.5- and 2.8-litre petrol motors; these coupés were cheaper than the SL range, offering a slightly different proposition as they were hard-tops rather than convertibles – but the pillarless windows meant you could pretend. Interestingly, however, these roguish urban gadabouts never really captured the public imagination in period – at least to the extent that the current ratio of survivors might have you think. While 1,852,008 saloons were built, there were only 67,048 coupés, 42,379 of which were 250s. This car, then, is a rare treat.

It was a pioneering one in its day too. The first production Mercedes-Benz model to use Bosch D-Jetronic fully electronic fuel injection, the first to feature a centre console inside, and the first to sport the now-iconic ribbed tail-lights (from 1974 – this ’70 has smoothies). So it’s a strong candidate on paper – but can any car really make rush-hour London bearable? All cities naturally evolve around their transport systems, and in the case of the urban layout of the USA, for example, they were able to plan the cities around wide, ordered roads; in Europe, the rapidly swelling cities grew on top of the increasingly inadequate existing road network, narrow and meandering and ever-more unsuitable. Ergo, London in a car is a pain in the backside. Too many other cars. Angry bus drivers. Cyclists playing by their own rules. Malfunctioning traffic lights. Unexpected roadworks. Noise. Fumes. Potholes. Stress. Everyone is angry.

Everyone, that is, except me. You see, it’s impossible to be stressed in a car like this. While all about are losing their heads, I just feel like James Dean, wafting through my own personal urban wonderland. There are few machines as inherently feelgood as this one.

This 250CE is left-hand drive (it lived in Germany for its first ten years, before being imported to Britain in 1980), but the layout requires very little mental recalibration in the metropolis as the glasshouse is so large, particularly in comparison to modern cars’ swollen pillars; I swim through the city like a fish, all around me in perfect clarity. The smooth 3-speed auto box can’t really be described as sporty – or even particularly attentive, to be honest – but it’s spot-on for city driving, as I’m just lazily, languorously rippling through the streets, an elbow out of the pillarless window at all times, steering caddishly with my right palm. The car shrinks around me, its massive white steering wheel an absurd caricature in the cosy cabin.

Pedestrians turn to proffer admiring glances as I trundle down Old Street – a couple outside an Italian café even raise their coffee cups in salute. A cab driver waves me out as I head toward Cheapside (when does that ever happen?) and on into the spiritual heart of the London/Mercedes axis, the City: here, the men still wear red braces and the women broad pinstripes, and each one probably has an investment-grade Benz in the garage at the country pad. They all offer knowing nods.

Heading down past the vast waterfront properties of Victoria Embankment, tourist territory approaches as I close in on Parliament Square, the hordes of camera-toting visitors momentarily distracted from Big Ben by the sight of this splendid bottle-green Coupé. Continuing along the north side of the Thames, I cross the river at Chelsea Bridge and swing the Merc’s imposing nose into the verdant lusciousness of Battersea Park. I’ve travelled a grand total of seven miles so far, and it’s taken the best part of two hours. And you know what? That doesn’t matter a jot. I feel supremely relaxed. The cuddly but inexplicable woolly seat covers are a factor here, but by no means a vital ingredient. This car, on an elemental level, exists to cosset and soothe, and does so magnificently.

The 250CE is, by pretty much any measurable value, the perfect city car. In spite of the 148bhp on tap from its 2.5-litre straight-six, it’s not especially quick – but it really doesn’t need to be. It just gets on with the job of oozing along like a swan on a millpond. The turning circle is tight, and the front end easily placed thanks to the prominent top corners of the wings, all of which is helpful… but more important than any of that is the fact that it looks brilliant in the reflections of shop windows as I saunter past. A flawless urban cruiser, and effortlessly stylish. It totally reframes the concept of the rush hour.