"What It’s Like to Own an E63 AMG Wagon"
04-25-2013, 03:10 PM
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"What It’s Like to Own an E63 AMG Wagon"
Below is an article I found written by a fellow AMG MB owner Doug Demuro. Couldn't stop laughing because I can totally relate.
Below is an excerpt from the original which can be found here: http://plays-with-cars.kinja.com/wha...agon-476609580
I’ve already written extensively about my E63 AMG Wagon elsewhere. So rather than write another review, I’ll take you through a typical day during the period in my life when I owned a 507-horsepower station wagon with rear-facing child seats.
8:15am: Wake up. This would usually be a problem, since I live 15 miles from work and have to be in by 9. But remember: I have an E63 AMG Wagon.
8:30am: Get gas. The tank was empty because I used the car the prior night to visit my girlfriend, who lives four miles away.
8:45am: Arrive at work 20 minutes early. If any Atlanta-area police officers read Jalopnik, this isn’t because I broke any laws. Traffic just happened to be light. Especially on the shoulder.
8:50am: Enter elevator. I worked at Porsche’s corporate headquarters. An executive steps in behind me. “What are you driving these days, Doug?” My response prompts a head nod and an unspoken “What the hell are we paying this guy?”
Noon: Go for lunch. My colleagues pile into the AMG Wagon. Two think it’s funny sit in the rear-facing third row. Unfortunately, putting adults back there is like Hakeem Olajuwon doing push-ups in the parcel shelf of an SL550. Despite the space restrictions, they ride in back anyway. Because when was the last time you got to sit in a rear-facing third row?
1pm: Return from lunch. Pull up at a stop light next to an E63 AMG sedan. The driver glances over, then returns to his phone conversation. Ahh, AMG camaraderie.
6:30pm: Leave work. Meet up with friends to visit the quarter-mile Atlanta Dragway an hour from the city in rural Commerce, Georgia. On the way, stop for gas. Again. No one says anything about my car. This is contrary to when I owned a Lotus, and men would walk up to excitedly tell me about the time their sister’s husband’s mom owned a Corvette in 1987.
7:30pm: Arrive at dragstrip. During second run, fuel is low again. Stop for gas about an eighth-mile down the strip. Still run a 14.
8:30pm: Everyone who was making fun of “the station wagon” now loves it. Except for the guy in the ’69 Camaro with slicks who keeps losing to it. He gets especially mad when a friend rides in the wagon’s rear-facing third row and waves to him as we pull away.
9:30pm: Leave dragstrip. In the parking lot, the wagon’s “check engine” light goes on. The navigation screen flickers. Tomorrow, I’ll visit the dealership, where I’ll be subject to a $1,500 repair bill. But first, I have to get gas.
Below is an excerpt from the original which can be found here: http://plays-with-cars.kinja.com/wha...agon-476609580
I’ve already written extensively about my E63 AMG Wagon elsewhere. So rather than write another review, I’ll take you through a typical day during the period in my life when I owned a 507-horsepower station wagon with rear-facing child seats.
8:15am: Wake up. This would usually be a problem, since I live 15 miles from work and have to be in by 9. But remember: I have an E63 AMG Wagon.
8:30am: Get gas. The tank was empty because I used the car the prior night to visit my girlfriend, who lives four miles away.
8:45am: Arrive at work 20 minutes early. If any Atlanta-area police officers read Jalopnik, this isn’t because I broke any laws. Traffic just happened to be light. Especially on the shoulder.
8:50am: Enter elevator. I worked at Porsche’s corporate headquarters. An executive steps in behind me. “What are you driving these days, Doug?” My response prompts a head nod and an unspoken “What the hell are we paying this guy?”
Noon: Go for lunch. My colleagues pile into the AMG Wagon. Two think it’s funny sit in the rear-facing third row. Unfortunately, putting adults back there is like Hakeem Olajuwon doing push-ups in the parcel shelf of an SL550. Despite the space restrictions, they ride in back anyway. Because when was the last time you got to sit in a rear-facing third row?
1pm: Return from lunch. Pull up at a stop light next to an E63 AMG sedan. The driver glances over, then returns to his phone conversation. Ahh, AMG camaraderie.
6:30pm: Leave work. Meet up with friends to visit the quarter-mile Atlanta Dragway an hour from the city in rural Commerce, Georgia. On the way, stop for gas. Again. No one says anything about my car. This is contrary to when I owned a Lotus, and men would walk up to excitedly tell me about the time their sister’s husband’s mom owned a Corvette in 1987.
7:30pm: Arrive at dragstrip. During second run, fuel is low again. Stop for gas about an eighth-mile down the strip. Still run a 14.
8:30pm: Everyone who was making fun of “the station wagon” now loves it. Except for the guy in the ’69 Camaro with slicks who keeps losing to it. He gets especially mad when a friend rides in the wagon’s rear-facing third row and waves to him as we pull away.
9:30pm: Leave dragstrip. In the parking lot, the wagon’s “check engine” light goes on. The navigation screen flickers. Tomorrow, I’ll visit the dealership, where I’ll be subject to a $1,500 repair bill. But first, I have to get gas.
