11 photos
From Issue Three of the Gear Patrol Magazine.
Discounted domestic shipping + 15% off in the GP store for new subscribers.
Since 1979, Mercedes-Benz has manufactured the G-Class, a go-anywhere, do-anything SUV with the aerodynamics of a studio apartment and the looks of a German bank vault. In the G-Class you sit upright, as though you’re in the cockpit of an ultra-luxurious, over-engineered backhoe. And I mean that as a compliment — the feeling one gets behind the wheel of a G-Class is unlike any other vehicular sensation out there. The entire vehicle range is extremely proficient off-road, too: it has high ground clearance, prodigious torque and locking differentials. So, especially when you’re in a high-performance version, like the G63, with its twin-turbo V8 and snarly exhaust; or the twin-turbo V12-powered G65, you feel different, powerful, important.
People who don’t have the glamorous pleasure of driving or owning the G-Class deflect their insecurities with remarks like, “Oh, it’s just a German Hummer,” or simply, “It’s too big.” I pity their diffidence. Every last one of those folks needs a reality check. The G-Class is so goddamn awesome. Any argument against it is sucked into its skyscraper-vertical front intakes, spit out its side exhaust, and trounced beneath its oversized, expensive tires.
And yet, Mercedes-Benz thought it might not be extreme enough.
After all, the “regular” G-Class is only half a foot taller than the average male. Its approach angle is only 36 degrees. It only has 8.1 inches of ground clearance. It doesn’t even weigh a full three tons.
No matter that the G-class has been the envy of off-roaders for decades. So what if it’s now such a blatant, ostentatious signifier of wealth that it’s standard issue in music videos? So what if it’s a voracious rock climber in a bespoke suit?