Powering down the tarmac at Salinas Airport, amidst the sleek private jets ferrying the elite to Monterey Peninsula’s Car Week, a familiar feeling washes over me. It’s more than just the rich aroma of warm engine oil, aged leather, and classic houndstooth upholstery. It transcends the sight of the Becker cassette stereo’s silver faceplate, vertically mounted in the center console. And it’s even beyond the tactile pleasure of the giant steering wheel, its circumference echoing the rings of Uranus.
It’s the distinct sensation of time bending, of stepping into a moment that bridges past and future.
Nearly a decade ago, coinciding with the launch of The Drive, I had the privilege as an early contributor to get behind the wheel of a V8-powered Mercedes C111 concept car at Pebble Beach and shared my experience. It was a surreal moment, a true space-time distortion, driving a concept conceived in my birth year, embodying a futuristic ideal that never fully materialized. Now, I find myself back, piloting another iteration of this legendary tawny spaceship, rocketing simultaneously forward and backward in my own timeline.
The C111: A Visionary Wedge of Automotive Design
The Benz C111, with only a handful ever produced, was conceived partly as a radical design study. It became an early archetype of the sharp “wedge” styling that would dominate concept car aesthetics throughout the following decade and influence supercar designs for even longer. Its sleek, angular form was meticulously crafted to cheat the wind, pushing the boundaries of aerodynamics to unlock enhanced performance and handling. This was more than just aesthetics; it was about pushing the limits of automotive engineering.
The Revolutionary Wankel Rotary Engine
However, the mercedes c111 was equally, if not more importantly, engineered as a mobile laboratory for the Wankel engine. This innovative combustion engine, conceived in the 1930s, promised a paradigm shift with its potential for greater power, enhanced efficiency, and reduced weight – arriving at a crucial juncture as the automotive industry braced for stricter regulations on fuel economy and emissions. Initially unveiled with a 275-horsepower three-rotor direct fuel-injected Wankel, the ambition to reach a staggering 186 mph (300 km/h) top speed spurred the development of a 350 hp four-rotor variant the following year. This potent four-rotor version is the very car I had the privilege of driving.
Before my drive, a Mercedes Classic Center technician underscored the engine’s significance, stating, “This car was designed around the Wankel engine. So a car with this engine, especially the final four-rotor version, this is the true experience of this car.”
Rediscovering a Legend: The C111 Driving Experience
It’s remarkable how profoundly certain vehicles can etch themselves into one’s automotive consciousness. I’ve been incredibly fortunate to pilot iconic cars that, as a car-obsessed child growing up in 1970s Detroit, were the stuff of Hot Wheels fantasies, bedroom posters, dog-eared magazine articles, and fleeting dreams. From Gary Cooper’s Duesenberg SSJ to a majestic Mercedes 540K, a stylish Facel Vega, and every generation of V12 Lamborghini, the list is extensive. Yet, sliding over the wide, vinyl-clad sill of the benz c111 and maneuvering my legs into the narrow pedal box instantly transported me back to that 2015 experience.
Memories flooded back: the unique vista over the arching fenders, the rearview mirror’s perspective on the similarly curved rear, the precise yet slightly loose action of the dogleg ZF transmission with its shifter-mounted push-button for first gear, the weighty steering, and the rush of warm air from the ventilation.
However, what genuinely surprised me anew was the impeccable chassis balance and handling. The composure and solidity with which everything harmonized, and the sheer power delivery – the silken smoothness of its output. Although respecting the car’s upcoming Concours display limited my exploration of the upper rev ranges, the power delivery was nothing short of astonishing. Its 350 horsepower output rivaled that of Ferraris of its era, all within a structure significantly lighter by several hundred pounds.
Nine years prior, I had barely shifted the V8 c111 out of second gear, constrained by the traffic of 17-Mile Drive and surrounded by priceless collectible cars. Here, on the open runway, I could finally unleash the car, experiencing its eagerness, its composure, and its insatiable appetite for speed. And yes, like all Wankels, its thirst for oil and internal components is also notable.
The Unfulfilled Promise: Legacy of the C111
“With the Wankel engine,” the technician explained, “we could not achieve the durability standards that are required for Mercedes Benz. So this engine project was canceled.”
Concept cars embody possibilities, visions of what could have been. The c111 mercedes benz was specifically conceived as a testbed, a laboratory to explore emergent technologies. Beyond powertrains, it served as the proving ground for Mercedes’ early forays into polymer body panels, turbocharging, and pioneering anti-lock braking systems. It was never intended for mass production, or even limited series production, yet customers clamored for a road-going version, some even offering blank checks for the opportunity to own one. As I pressed the accelerator, I contemplated the alternate reality where the Wankel-powered C111, despite its inherent limitations, had become the supercar icon of its time.
“An engine-out service every 15,000 or 20,000 miles is typical for a Ferrari of that era,” I remarked. “Or even for cars of today with similar technology and performance. It wouldn’t have been unexpected, or a deal-breaker.”
The technician nodded in agreement, then simply shrugged, stating, “Mercedes,” he said, “is not Ferrari.” This simple sentence encapsulates the core difference in brand philosophy.
I’m drawn to cars that exist outside the constraints of time, vehicles so radically different from their contemporaries that they seem to have arrived from another dimension. Outliers like the Citroën DS and the Buckminster Fuller’s Dymaxion come to mind, even Mercedes’ own timeless 300 SL Gullwing. I shared this sentiment with the technician as our drive concluded – the notion that Mercedes once dared to dream beyond Teutonic rationality, that they could have embraced the Wankel and created a revolutionary supercar, and perhaps, might again someday. He nodded in agreement once more, then offered another telling shrug.
