Convertible Mercedes C300

“Are we really about to do this?” is the thought shared between my friends Jake, Liz, and me just moments after we got approved to test drive test drive a couple year old convertible Mercedes-Benz C300 in bright blue with a sticker price that’s just a smidge over $37,000 at a family friend’s used car dealership called Huber Automotive. The primary reason for this is that this is more than likely the most expensive car any of us have been in (we’re sophomores in college, give us a break). I have the feeling of pure excitement. “Holy dip, I’m really about to drive around in a drop-top coupe Merc,” is the thought that keeps going through my mind. I get in and am instantly greeted by a fairly nice interior, easily one of the best I have ever been in. Although there is quite a lot of plastic throughout, it somehow does not feel cheap and chintzy like other interiors that have been made almost solely out of plastic have been. The fact that all three of us can all have our asses warmed simultaneously by the hefty leather seats only adds to wonderment of the blue Benz.

A seemingly wonderful feature that pleasantly greets me almost immediately upon getting in is the plastic arm that extends from the pillar just behind me to deliver a seatbelt to my hand, almost like a nice, tiny little butler. I presume this is because of the typical Mercedes driver attitude; “I drive a Mercedes and simply cannot be bothered to reach all the way around to retrieve my own seatbelt.” Then, suddenly, the car starts jerking me and touching me in nonconsensual ways; once I buckle up and close the door the electronic butler that just handed me the seatbelt now wants nothing more than to strangle me with it. The mechanism that just handed it to me retracts back into its cubie hole in the side pillar and does not allow any slack in the belt whatsoever. Annoyingly, quite a large part of the car, specifically the expectations that the C300 instills in you, just falls on its face.

Let me say a quick disclaimer before I really get started; this is a fine car, and I mean that in the best possible sense. The C300 is objectively a good car. It is good to drive and will probably be reliable and sound for years to come; it is a reasonably good looking, intelligent, engineering feat that anyone would be fortunate to have. It drives more than well enough for anyone who would actually consider buying the thing. The Merc does have different driving modes like comfort, eco, sport, and so on, although I never noticed the sport mode doing anything; it’s a nice touch. It also rides excellently; there were moments where we drove through potholes big enough to made by a medium sized meteor, and the Merc took it like a champ; nothing ever squeaked or rattled, and the ride remained consistently level yet smooth. And do not get me started on the stereo; the Burmeister system is a gift from the sound gods of wherever Burmeister is based, with clear vocals, no hint of tininess, and deep bass. It really sounds wonderful. Now, disclaimer over, let’s get to the little niggles, as well as the elephant in the room.

Where were we? Oh yeah, where it falls on its face. The infotainment is beyond a headache that some simple practice and getting used to will remedy, this is a crippling migraine that makes me want to use the hey-look-at-me origami folding roof as a guillotine (I DON’T WANT TO HAVE TO PROGRAM A SPACE SHUTTLE EVERYTIME I CHANGE THE RADIO STATION!) While we are on the topic of the infotainment, I did eventually out the this in sport mode, as I said earlier, but not until after I may or may not have launched the missiles from a nuclear submarine. The point is that the entire thing is needlessly complicated and just frustrating in general. The rest of the controls in the interior are nearly as confusing, they lay out is similar to the layout you would expect to find in a fighter jet; just random buttons everywhere, it’s a Mercedes for Christ’s sake you’d think they would pay more attention to the luxurious and ease-of-use side of things. That being said, the button to drop the roof is smack dab in the middle of everything, so at least we know what they were paying attention to.

Now the real problem with this car is its personality. Imagine a stereotypical Karen, you know, the “I need to speak to the manager” person, only in this case, they are also a semi-successful club promoter and in the midst of a midlife crisis. You know, the kind of person who is in their mid-40’s or early 50’s and still have a tinder, the kind of person that clearly peaked in high school and is still trapped with the same mentality that earned them prom royalty status. The Merc C300 is dripping of golf course culture and a “I’m better than you” attitude. This car is so much better suited to cruising in Beverly Hills at night to a wine testing event, being driven by someone with an orange spray tan and a short but obnoxious hairdo than being driven in the boonies in Ohio by some college kids, which may have amplified the character even more.

The reason I said earlier that it drove good enough for anyone who would actually buy it is because nobody who buys this gives a toss about the way it drives. People who buy this car buy it because it says Mercedes in fifty thousand different places, and it is more than willing to remove its top for you. If it said “Ford C300”, nobody would buy it. In the end, I left the convertible C300 with a realization: the roof is better left up, that way nobody can see you driving it.

Not a complete sentence [BE1]