So why couldn’t I get on with it? Well, it’s all to do with
the noise. The SLK250 CDI’s pace is unquestionable. It fires off the line with
maximum twist from just 1,600rpm and before you know it, you’re doing naughty
speeds and glancing in your mirrors like a paranoid with a dodgy tick, hoping
the rozzers aren’t watching your every move.
But, as I found out, just because your diesel sports car can
mix it with the big boys in a straight line doesn’t make it an intoxicating
drive. Diesel engines are all about keeping cash in your pocket – even if it
takes 10,000 miles for their premium over petrol models to be nullified. And
so, to expect a spine tingling soundtrack from a motor with ‘third generation,
common-rail, direct fuel injection’ is as foolhardy as expecting it to redline
at 7,000rpm. It’s just not going to happen.
Mercedes’ 250 CDI engine is a lightweight, torque
heavyweight and its inclusion in the SLK range challenges people’s perceptions
of what a sports car can and can’t be. But it’s a task too big even for the
truly superb, four-cylinder biturbo motor.
A sports car allows you to bask in the texture of an engine’s
voice. Roof down motoring doesn’t get any better than when your every move is
backed by the rich sound of pure mechanical opera. But on the occasions when I
did hang onto the SLK250 CDI’s gears and eek out every last drop of
performance, I instantly regretted it because the rugged, diesely drone was
unescapable. Worse still, when the SLK’s roof is down you hear everything a
pedestrian would, which really does make you think twice about ‘dropping the
hammer’ again. That’s just not how a sports car should make you feel.
The SLK’s four-pot and V6 petrols produce a sound that’ll
have people spinning on the spot and you grinning like a mentalist. All the
diesel engine does is let people know you’re as bothered about fuel economy as
style – and that’s just not very cool, is it?
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