REVIEW | Engineering, not just comfort, sets Mercedes-Benz V300d apart

The relationship between societal status and the consumption of luxury goods is complicated and evolving.

In an age in which more people have been able to afford expensive indicators of wealth, luxury brands have had to accommodate the relentless human need to express difference and to understand the varied ways in which culture affects the way we do this.

Put simply, an English aristocrat, a Texan businessman and a Chinese tech mogul could have very different takes on what constitutes luxury and what suitably represents their status in life.

Some academics have proposed the idea of a “post-luxury” era, in which expressions of status and success are not necessarily related to the things you buy but more to the things you do.

One of the quieter expressions of status is the large family. Having three or more children is a modern phenomenon once ascribed to the poor, but is now again an elitist expression of wealth and status. After all, sending children to nice schools is expensive. Sending several even more so.

In South Africa the traditional means of transport for large families has been a Volkswagen Kombi, with the older models part of local automotive culture and lore. But for those who find the Kombi a trifle utilitarian, there is a luxury manufacturer willing to step in to take your cash.

There wasn’t too much planning involved in the arrival of four delightful children into my life, but that’s the situation, so large vehicles are a fact of life for us.

A long trip to the Kruger National Park in December offered an opportunity to drive the Mercedes-Benz V-Class, the V300d, and having owned a current-generation Kombi the contrast was interesting.

The price difference between the V300d and the range-topping Volkswagen Caravelle is about R700,000 — and while that’s a stack of cash, there’s no doubt you get something tangible beyond the proud three-pointed star on the bonnet.

The main problem with large commercial van-based people movers is that as much as you might love the space and the appointments, you can feel the coarseness of the underlying infrastructure. It manifests as agricultural handling, noisy engines and wind noise, creaks and rattles resulting from the size of the vehicle and the realities of structural rigidity in cars this long, wide and tall.

In the more spartan people mover incarnations, such as base-model VW Transporters and Mercedes-Benz Vito vans, these issues are the sacrifice you make for space and value for money.

In the V300d, however, the effort that has gone into addressing this is the car’s most notable feature. This observation is as much about me as it is the car. It reflects my old-fashioned and incurably ascetic view of what constitutes luxury.

It is something I want to feel, not see. Aesthetic austerity is fine so long as it is coupled with exquisitely careful engineering I can see has been undertaken for the exact purpose for which it is being sold. Think about that — it’s more unusual than you realise in an automotive environment dominated by shared and scalable platforms.

Last, I like a car that appropriately reflects its heritage and provenance. The V300d really does this, though it’s hardly aesthetically austere. The Stuttgart team who built this car have walked a fine line in managing these various interpretations of luxury.

For those who want every last piece of technology, the Benz is there. It is rare that I get into a car and opt for the in-house navigation system over CarPlay. In the V-Class I did. It’s very good.

For those who need to stand out, for whom to experience luxury it is necessary to be observed and seen by others, the V300d comes with striking looks and slabby 19" “Monobloc” wheels that give it a certain “stance”.

Up front, an LED light band surrounds a rather gaping grill and a dark tint completes a menacing, nuggety appeal. It’s not my cup of tea, but that’s not really important.

What we can agree on is that we like to be comfortable and the seven-seat configuration with two individual seats in the second row makes for a superb road-trip car for the larger family.

Six up, we shuffled the rear bench forward a few centimetres to sacrifice some legroom to the luggage. We got it all in, the boot’s clever double layer stacking system allowing us to transport half a ton of luggage without fear of opening the boot at the end of the drive. The ability to dispense with the usual trailer was a genuine boon.

Heavily loaded, the V-Class’s 2l four-cylinder diesel did a good job. The six-cylinder engines of yore are no more, but while 174kW isn’t a number that leaps off the page, 500Nm is a hefty serving or torque that means the Benz’s nine-speed automatic gearbox leans on those newtons at low RPM, even on the long climbs, making for an effortless and efficient cruise.

The car’s ride is one of its most notable characteristics. It is well done and once in the national park and venturing onto gravel roads, the underlying van gave a great sense of robustness and strength without overwhelming the work of the engineers who made the ride just so.

There are far too many toys to mention here, from adjustable interior mood lighting, electric everything, endlessly adjustable seats that warm and cool you on request, superb Burmester sound and all the safety equipment under the sun.

But a few weeks later, that’s not what sticks with me. What sticks with me is the care taken to engineer the car for its purpose.

I liked the efficiency — 8l/100km on the cruise and less than 10l/100km overall. I liked the effortless cruise, if not the outright pace — not really relevant here — and most importantly the calm, the quiet and the sense of being cocooned. I could feel the care and the attention.

To me, that’s luxury. Whether it’s R2.26m of luxury and R700,000 better than the VW is up to you.