The drunken, knife wielding grandfather of the S 65.
Being hurtled towards anything in its way last week in the S 65 AMG Merc, I began to think about when exactly Hans-Werner, Erhard and their troubled friends started to loosen their grip on reality. When exactly was a Mercedes purr turned into a gurgling lunatic howl? Growing up I just had to accept that Mercedes-Benz would always be scoffed at for their overly large steering wheels and wallowy Church going suspension systems.
