Our President commutes in the back of a Cadillac. Finally, Maserati needs to round off the hard edges of the ride. It's like sitting for a back rub from a Soviet shot-putter. This used to be enough horsepower to post land speed records, to win Indy. A staggering 516 pound-feet is available from 2650 rpm. The brake-by wire pedal feel is not perfect, but honestly it is better than most cars that are a decade newer. Still, computerized shocks and air springs what else? Most newer cars have some menu, button, or other procedure required to get the full advertised power output from the car.
DoorsFilter selectedDoorsList, null ; doorsFilter. Vehicle showcases, rants, how-to's, and top five tips are common here, so stay tuned by subscribing. They star in television commercials and sell through one or three dealers near you. The E55 is the supercar for Lutherans. And I often say that any time I drive one of my cars after a period of driving other cars, I immediately fall back in love with the car all over again. SeatingFilter selectedSeatingList, null ; seatingFilter.
The ride is firm—that's 469 horsepower, remember—and the brakes touchy but unfailing. NewUsedFilter selectedNewUsedList, null ; newUsedFilter. According to various magazines, the official time slip for this car should be 12. You might, which is why we've parked on these pages a trio of Europe's finest left-lane huggers. The E55 is an exhilarating machine and a faultless choice, but as in The Matrix, you'll enjoy life more if you accept the domination of the computers. A 60-mph time of 5. Apparently everyone does these days.
In some ways, the best of the 4-door sedan factory muscle cars was the previous 2000 E55 version. Who needs 500hp in a family sedan? I have driven many cars, and the E55 is one of the best highway cars I have ever driven. The body is screwed down, the stance unflappable even over roiling pavement. Great family car that can fly like a jet. It's got the hardware, too, sprayed forzo Italiano red with a bellicose, back-firing snarl for a voice. That is true on a sunny summer day, but even moreso on this overcast trip with nearly constant rain, and a lot of left over dirt from the salt deposited on the road no less than a week ago.
Anything newer, or with a higher resale value, would make the driver a bit more nervous when the 18 wheeler catches a gust of wind, his tires cross over that white line, and the left over salt, grit, grime, and rocks are thrown into the air at 70mph. But the murky interior is about restraint. I will get another one later on, probably for a better price. The Maserati beguiled us in soft light, serenaded us with divine music, and whipped us till we giggled. For starters, too many tiramisus have found their way into the suspension.
It's all black, as if a coal shaft had collapsed around you. . Back-bench riders get a little less usable space than in the Jaguar and Maserati, mainly since there's no room for feet under the machinery-packed front seats. Turn the stability control to off, and the computer instead just raises the threshold of intervention. The Jag is a suave courier pouch for those preferring to ship themselves in more stately comfort.
Serious drivers, don't be ashamed to drive on. What is Europe good for? Drivers also objected to the ever-present moans of the supercharger, which at full throttle sound like a Dirt Devil plugged into 220. Even the wood trim is stained the color of soot. The personal tailoring includes power adjustments for the pedals the only vehicle here to offer that and a power tilting and telescoping steering column. The only draw back was the maintenance from the dealer was pricey, and oh yeah the tires will need to be replaced every 10 to 12,000 miles.
I am forced to hear an obnoxious chime in most newer cars if I do this. Select a downshift with the steering-wheel buttons, and the computer up-changes automatically. City crawling in the Quattroporte did prove more refined, the transmission slurring more easily through stoplight rollouts and light-throttle gearchanges that flummoxed the Coupé. It doesn't care if I wear my seatbelt. Still, it makes its 394 prancing horses and surprisingly thick midrange torque sans supercharger, plain atmosphere swirling down the intakes through a sculpture of clasping fingers.
Jay Leno's collection makes perfect sense to me, if I had his finances, I'd probably have a similar collection. The supercharger squashes the atmosphere up to 13. It has the transmission brainpower to quickly learn your mood and hold the upshifts before the next corner, a laudable quality since the 4. Europe is good for that, plus frilly food and some old churches and stuff. Eventually, the tires screech their situation directly to your ears. Regular readers of this rag can supply him a fast answer: fast cars.
The has more lascivious curves than a Fellini fantasy. Four pairs of aluminum control arms do the dancing. Meanwhile, let's meet the familiars. It's a risky move, marrying a sports-car gearbox to a luxury limo. The only things not working on this car are the home-link garage door system and the automatic unlocking device built into the driver's door. And the car was filthy after this trip.