Only diesel will do: 2000 miles in six days with Mercedes E450D

When a flight isn’t available, only a big diesel will do – and they don’t get much better than this How often do any of us use our cars for the exact purpose they were designed for? I’d wager the answer is ‘not very’. As I creep off LeShuttle and into the French daylight, I think about the death of the big diesel estate. Audi and BMW have dropped their mile-munching load luggers from sale in the UK, and you can sort of understand why. Great Britain isn’t a large island, after all, so who really needs the ability to haul a wardrobe from Plymouth to Inverness on one tank? Well, I do – but not on our poky little rock in the sea. I’ve got a full tank of Rudolf’s finest, it’s 790 miles to the northern tip of Denmark and I’m behind the wheel of a Mercedes-Benz E450d Estate. And I’m wearing sunglasses. Hit it. I probably ought to explain what I’m doing. Every September, the motoring journalists of Europe flock to the bleak but charming seaside town of Tversted as part of the judging process for Car of the Year. I’ve flown to the Tannistest for the past few years, but airline schedules have changed, so if I’d tried the same thing this year I’d have found myself at a loose end at Amsterdam’s Schiphol airport for eight hours. So I’ve chosen to drive and to do so in a car that was designed to crush continents. France goes as quickly as it comes and I cross into Belgium, a land of average speed cameras that turn flowing motorway traffic into a single blob, making the feeling of making progress impossible. As I reach Brussels, the traffic gets even worse, slowing to a crawl through mile after mile of roadworks. In anything else I’d be seriously annoyed. Cocooned in the E-Class, though, I’m miraculously unbothered. It’s immediately clear to me that one of this car’s biggest talents is the ability it has to disconnect you from the annoyances of the road, cosseting you in a cathedral of luxury as you float along on the air suspension. Even at low speeds the ride is impressive, taking in nasty potholes as if they weren’t there at all, while the lightness of the control weights does a stellar job of keeping me at ease. Brussels is cleared and normal progress resumes, the quietness, the velvety ride and the multifunction massage seats turning what would have been a drag across the Low Countries into something of a blur. I cross the border somewhere near the old Zolder Formula 1 track, passing into a short and utterly unremarkable section of the Netherlands. Before long I’m in Germany. I know this partly because of the signs but mostly because a BMW M6 Cabriolet has just blasted past me at approximately Mach 2. It’s an invitation that looks awfully tempting, despite my aim to use as little fuel as I can. At present, a litre of diesel will cost you €2.40 (£2.03) out here. I check the trip computer and see the Mercedes has been barely sipping since crossing the Channel, having averaged an impressive 48mpg. It would be nice to keep this up, I think – and then I remember how rare it is that I find myself on an unrestricted autobahn and decide to plant my right foot. Unfortunately, this Sunday afternoon is surprisingly busy and I don’t really find the space to stretch my legs as I waft past the gargantuan steelworks of Duisburg. However, as the sun sets past Osnabrück, the traffic begins to thin out. I select Sport mode, feel the air suspension hunker down to its lowest setting and get childish with the throttle. The way the E450d gains speed is oddly sedate. There are no kicks to the head from gearshifts or moments of stasis: it just gently pushes you onwards at a seemingly constant rate of acceleration with a level of serenity that completely belies the serious speeds at which you soon find yourself. The turbocharged 3.0-litre straight six up front is a real masterpiece, generating a staggering 553lb ft of torque from just above idle all the way up to 2800rpm and allowing the car to simply surge forward. As 367bhp propels me towards Dinklage, I realise that driving quickly on an unrestricted autobahn is possibly one of the most exhilarating experiences this side of base jumping. As I approach 140mph, I feel like I’m looking a mile down the road, my saucer-sized eyes searching for even the slightest hint that someone might pull into lane three. Middle-lane hogs are a nuisance in the UK; over here they’re a genuine threat to your life. As I’m using all of my brain function to ensure the road ahead remains clear, the one thing I don’t have to worry about is the car itself. It remains unbelievably planted at high speed, the steering wheel rock-solid in my white-knuckled hands, and the only real signs that I’m doing more than double the UK speed limit are the animalistic yet slightly muted howl of the wind and the speed at which things are approaching through the vast windscreen. I hit the 155mph limiter and back off, the car staying stable under braking as I exit the autobahn and enter my hotel for the night. The next morning, I rise early and make a run for the Danish border, a mere 200 miles north, at a more sedate pace. With the engine sitting at just 1500rpm at my chosen cruising speed of 80mph, the three-pointed star at the end of my bonnet leads the way through a grey dawn. I’m making good progress until I hit Hamburg, catching the rush-hour traffic. Frustrating, but at least it gives me plenty of time to admire the incomprehensibly large container ships moored right next to the autobahn. The roads empty again as I approach Denmark, stopping only for an eye-wateringly expensive fill-up at the last fuel station before the border. Even with far more high-speed running than I’d planned for, I’ve still covered almost 600 miles on one tank with range to spare. After a refill, a 225-mile slog up the spine of Jutland awaits. Frankly, the less said about this section the better. This is a very pleasant country, with gently rolling hills and lush green fields, but you do get extremely bored seeing these two things over and over again. Even this car can’t make this trip go past quickly, so it’s a relief when I finally park up on the beach and find road test editor Matt Saunders ready to meet me for dinner. Flash cut to two days later and I’m once again approaching Hamburg, having travelled the length of Denmark twice on a single tank of diesel. This time I don’t bypass the city, instead heading straight into its heart. It’s a busy old place with surprisingly narrow roads once you get into the warehouse district, but the E450d takes it firmly in its stride, the low windscreen scuttle allowing me to easily place the car on the road and the light steering letting me palm my way around the city with ease. I’ve come here to visit Miniatur Wunderland, the world’s largest model railway. As I wander around marvelling at the scale of the place – more than 10 miles of track across 12 layouts, populated by 292,000 figurines, 11,800 cars and 52 flying planes – I get a call from my hotel in Lüneburg, saying that I must be there before 8pm, as that’s when the check-in desk closes. A quick check of Waze tells me that I won’t be there until 8.15pm. Ah. What follows is a mad dash for the historic city. Escaping Hamburg, I find myself on a blissfully quiet stretch of unrestricted autobahn, and once I hit that magic 200kph (124mph) mark I don’t fall below it again until I reach my exit. When did I arrive? 7.53pm. It’s what this car was made for, after all… The next morning, I set off across the countryside at a much more relaxed pace, eager to eke out the last little bit of diesel in the tank. In Comfort mode the E450d will shut down its engine and freewheel along at the speed limit, something that allows me to get all the way to Ralf Schumacher’s karting centre before I need to replenish the tank I’ve covered 659 miles with. That’s 49mpg – impressive stuff. Germany slips by as I cruise the 250 miles to a little town called Dietzhölztal, high in the rolling hills of the Rhenish Massif. The twisting passes around the town reveal a new dimension to the E450d, letting me see its less relaxed side. Obviously it’s no Lotus Elise, but 2140kg has rarely felt so light, and I quickly traverse the hills. The steering is so much better than you would expect, not giving you all that much feel but compensating with wonderful weighting in a rack that’s so well sped, while the four-wheel drive system operates with ruthless efficiency. I’ve decided to visit Dietzhölztal for one reason and one reason only: to check out the recently opened National Auto Museum. It’s possibly the most impressive such museum I’ve ever visited, situated in a former factory and populated by a collection of cars amazing enough to keep me there for days. With everything from a Tatra 77A to a Mercedes-Benz CLK GTR Roadster on show, it’s all I can do to keep my jaw off the floor. Mind sufficiently blown, I head north-west for my overnight halt in Cologne, and when dawn breaks I set my sights on Calais. On my way, I stumble across Europe’s largest open-cast mine, populated by a fleet of 100m-tall excavators that are among the largest vehicles on the planet. They’re so large that they’re officially referred to as landships – a moniker I don’t think would be ill-fitting if applied to the E450d, owing to the ease with which it travels unthinkable distances. I’m watching my fuel gauge all the way back to France, hoping and praying that I can make it on one tank. It’s a little touch and go at times, but some gentle driving means that by the time I reach the Eurotunnel I’ve still got 50 miles of range showing up on the dashboard. Filling up, I reflect on my journey. I’ve covered just shy of 2000 miles across five countries in six days, which is no mean feat. I s there a better car for the job? Based on how relaxed I still feel, I think not. Bravo, Mercedes.