Woman Maths: Mercedes CLK63 AMG Black Series

Look, it isn’t perfect. But perfect cars can be dull and forgettable, two things you could never say about the CLK. I imagine it was dreamt up in some locked AMG lab, a room reserved for the most unhinged engineers. That is not dust on the walls, that is cocaine. Maybe even the same mythical room that forged the Hammer. Two decades apart, the W124 6-litre Hammer and the CLK Black shared the same intent: take a family car, throw money and madness at it, and turn it into something other. Something special.

I am in the hugely fortunate position of living with one of the 500 CLK Blacks. It is a car so good that I am sad only 500 people can own one at any given time. I am 99 per cent confident that at 75,000 miles it is the highest-mileage car in the UK (we only got 25 of the 500), but I can 100 per cent guarantee it is the happiest. It lives a full life. Just this summer it transported my other half, Thomas, to Le Mans and then on to Mille Miglia, where he swapped it for one of the Mercedes Museum’s 300 SLs, but was happy to sink back into those wonderfully comfortable Pole Position Recaros, the holy grail of bucket seats, for the journey home.

I hate to tempt fate here, but nothing has ever gone wrong with it. We are meticulous about its care, but we are with all our cars, and they aren’t all so dependable. It is a trusty steed, with a huge boot, that starts on the button.

But there is another side to it…

Many of you will have watched Jeremy Clarkson’s review of the CLK from 2007. I was studying at the time and couldn’t tear my eyes from the screen (take five minutes and give it a watch). He called it a class-A drug, and I was immediately intoxicated by the idea of it. The first time I drove the car, it lived up to its reputation. It felt a little bit like I was sitting on a bomb. Truly bombastic. It wants to go, it wants to find the apexes and roar off hunting for scraps of road to fling itself into.

People complain about the gearbox, and I understand their point, but what they miss is that it adds to the character of the car. It doesn’t detract, like some do. Yes, it isn’t seamless, but it adds something visceral and alive to the drive. People in the US are going crazy over manual-converted CLK Blacks. I cannot help but roll my eyes. I know I don’t know more than them, but I do know they’ve missed the point… or at least they’ve missed my point.

Then, just as suddenly, it becomes an autobahn cruiser. Thomas at the wheel, me curled up asleep in those soft-cloth Pole Positions. What more could you ask of one car? And I have not even mentioned those voluptuous arches.

So, how much should you pay? Well, this was a big investment for us, and I’ll admit, we keep a close eye on values. In fact, we may have built a spreadsheet tracking every CLK Black in the UK, which I am realising now sounds a bit obsessive/stalkerish when written down.

From what we’ve seen, pristine, low-mileage cars tend to change hands for around £150,000, while higher-mileage examples sit closer to £100,000. At the time of writing, there’s only one currently for sale… but the spreadsheet never lies.

In terms of ownership, the main headaches are sourcing replacement body panels, interior trim, and wheels (seriously, if anyone has a set, get in touch). Beyond that, the only real mechanical watch-out is the M156 head bolts, a known weak point across all models running the M156 V8 engine.

I hate to end on a negative note, so let’s all agree to focus on what really matters: voluptuous arches.

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