We review the Mercedes G-Class from price to economy and all its features
We go across Britain without using roads
YOU can’t wait. I can’t wait. Jeremy Clarkson makes his big-budget TV comeback tomorrow.
Expect supercars, gunfights, camels, explosions and much “c**k-a**ing” about in a tent.
As Jezza says: “It’s the same family. We’ve just moved house.”
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=la-awpQd-ec&w=433&h=300]
But for all the amazing, mental things Jezza, May and Hammond have done over the years, even those three amigos have never driven coast to coast across Britain without using public roads.
No one has. Until now.
I drove from Cromarty Firth on Scotland’s east coast to the third hole at Ullapool Golf Club on the west coast. In a German tank.
they are built for extreme off-road abuse
That’s 70 miles properly off-road, through rivers and muddy bogs, across the spectacular Scottish Highlands. One of the most epic landscapes on Earth. And it probably won’t happen again.
As you well know, trying to get a family to agree on anything, to eat the same meal, or to watch the same movie, is nigh on impossible.
So to persuade 11 grumpy landowners with shotguns to wave politely and let me tear across their back gardens is a small miracle.
You’re more likely to drive around the moon in a Prius. But we did it. In the legendary Mercedes G-Class. Natural habitat: Chelsea.
Key Facts
- Price: £88,800
- Engine: 3-litre V6 turbo diesel
- Power: 245hp, 600Nm, permanent 4WD
- 0-62mph: 8.9secs
- Top speed: 119mph
- Economy: 28mpg
- Emissions: CO2, 261g/km
We passed the Fyrish Monument — built by Hector Munro to celebrate thumping Hyder Ali in 1781. Google it, it’s an incredible story. One son was later eaten by a tiger, another by a shark. We passed mountain-top wind farms.
We passed Loch Morie, the water source for Dalmore whisky.
We passed the Perrins estate, of Lea & Perrins fame.
We passed salmon rivers, rare grouse, wild deer and a horny eagle that took a shine to our drone.
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We passed Alladale, where they want to reintroduce wolves and bears. Real ones, not the Hofmeister variety in yellow coats. We climbed to 1,991ft and back down again.
But fear not, my friends, I was safe, warm and cosy in my big, lush red G. My honey G. And I had wifi. Of course, 95 per cent of all G-Wagons are celebrity “whips” and never leave the city.
Which makes me sad because they are built for extreme off-road abuse. They have won Paris-Dakar twice. They like to crawl up 45-degree slopes, that’s 1:1, one metre up and one metre along. They like to swim in 60cm of water.
And they are armed with three diff locks to drag themselves through a hippo’s bedroom. Traction from a single wheel is enough to drive this beast forward.
My G350d averaged just 9mpg “coast to coast” but if you can afford £89,000 to buy one who cares, right? Unless you’re somewhere really remote and really lost . . .
Eventually, we passed the glacial flats, the stunning Rhidorroch Loch and we arrived at Ullapool. And the golf club. Sorry about those little scuffs on the green.
What a grand tour. What a privilege.
LONG before Top Gear — and long before telly — this legend drove up Ben Nevis in a Model T, using dynamite to blow up peatland in his path. It was 1911 and the chap was called Henry Alexander Jr, the son of Scotland’s first Ford dealer.
