I despise our office parking garage. There are usually no spots available on the lower levels, so you have to drive up six or seven floors, slowing for frequent speed bumps and construction workers who seem to spend half the summer drilling holes in the floor and the other half filling them. Plus, there's almost always one of Ann Arbor's many Prius-driving hippies crawling in front of you at about 4 mph so as to stay in EV mode. Well, I had my delicious revenge the morning I pulled through the garage in the Mercedes C63 AMG. Leaving the 7-speed automatic in first gear, I roared up each ramp, and then sent backfires ricocheting off the walls as I slowed for turns.
The C63 is lots of fun outside the parking garage, too. I found myself exploding out of stoplights with tire-spinning gusto I usually reserve for muscle cars, which of course, is what the C63 is. There weren't any curves on my commute that could come close to challenging the car's beefy suspension and brakes, but I'll take Mike's word that they were up to track duty.
I remain somewhat underwhelmed by the C-class's interior. I know Benzes are traditionally more about quality and solidity than flash and glamour, but does it need to be so darn somber in there? The seats though, are quite nice, and have some of the biggest side bolsters I've ever seen, so huge that they sometimes constricted my (short) arms as I reached for the steering wheel.