An unhappy marriage

During this period Murray found himself alone, sitting in front of groups of up to 14 Mercedes engineers, product planners and ‘experts’ resolving all the issues.

‘Eventually we wrote the spec book and got going. Sure enough, the layout we did was nothing like the Vision SLR. All the major masses were moved, and we lowered the position of the fuel tank. The middle part of the car was carbon fibre – it was very innovative.’

‘We got to do everything, and I mean everything, apart from the styling. We did all the design, the engineering, the packaging work, all the vehicle development, crash-testing and durability. We designed and created the manufacturing facility, the paint shop and the end-of-line testing, and built every car and passed it to sales. That was a fantastic grounding for McLaren Cars.’

Despite his hugely significant personal involvement in the SLR Murray was notably absent when a small group of journalists drove the Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren, as it was called by then, at Spain’s IDIADA proving ground in July 2003. Nor, tellingly, was Murray in South Africa at the car’s press launch in November of the same year. Why, we wondered, was Gordon not around to enlighten the press?

Suspicions raised, a comparison of the Vision SLR and the production version revealed something of the many changes: the wheelbase grew from 2660mm to 2700mm, length increased by 92mm and width by 30mm, while mass swelled from 1999’s predicted 1400kg to a hefty 1693kg. The most dramatic variation came with moving the supercharged 5.4-litre V8 engine as far back as possible so that it sat behind the front axle line to produce a 49:51 per cent weight distribution (Mercedes never revealed the Vision SLR’s weight distribution, but it is estimated to be 55:45). The rearward engine shift also explained the super stretched bonnet and exaggerated, cartoonish proportions – it’s a staggering 2.68 metres from the steering wheel to the tip of the nose, or more than half the car’s 4656mm length – leaving the entire cabin in the second half of the body.

In his book, Murray wrote of the concept car’s appearance, ‘I didn’t like the styling particularly: it was very bling, very Hollywood Boulevard-cruiser type of thing. Didn’t remind me much of the ’55 SLR, which was a lovely shape. And it looked very wrong aerodynamically.’

Clearly, Murray had no control over styling that unashamedly looked to the past, mating design cues from the original 300 SLR: the straked side vents, the 75 degree butterfly doors, and curved rear end. But Gordon, always a fan of active aerodynamics, insisted the concept’s rounded tail be made higher and flatter, while an electronically activated spoiler, reminiscent of the air brakes used on the original SLRs, improved downforce under heavy braking. Tweaking the underside of the car produced a flat underbody, with a purposeful, race-inspired rear diffuser.

In June 2003, to confirm the SLR’s performance credentials – and especially its top speed – Mercedes invited journalists to IDIADA, close to Spain’s Mediterranean coast west of Barcelona. Here, on the 4.7-mile speed bowl – really two 1.25-mile straights connected by long radius banking where the neutral speed in the third lane is 125mph – the 200mph+ supercar could legally and safely be stretched, though we were barred from the top of the four banked lanes.

Two pre-pre-production prototypes were on hand, first to be tested over four laps on a gymkhana course, that included a fast decreasing radius sweeper followed by four laps of the bowl behind a CL55 pace car.

Having negotiated the small and shallow opening (the high sill reminded me of the gullwing 300 SL) under the door’s arc that was centred around the windscreen pillar, it didn’t take long to realise the cabin was cramped. Yes, I’m 6ft 3in tall, but this still came as a surprise, given the size of the SLR. Problem was the fuel tank’s new position, enclosed in the body structure behind the seat, restricted rearward movement, rendering the driving position more WRC than GT.

Why, I wondered, was the starting procedure so complicated? You inserted the key, lifted the lid on the gearlever, before depressing the button that lurked beneath. What followed was a deep V8 idle burble: tickle the urgent accelerator and the side exhausts boomed. By 2003 levels the performance seemed outrageous, a new level of effortless supercar acceleration that didn’t let up on the way to 190mph, a little shy of the unspecified top speed.

I quickly discovered a disconnect between the car’s incredible natural stability and the super-quick steering – just 2.25 turns across the locks – that meant it was difficult to avoid overly aggressive inputs when trying to change direction smoothly, especially when the weighting was too light at the straight ahead. Move off-centre and the steering quickly became excessively heavy. Here, on the low friction test track, the front end wanted to push wide, but with 600bhp+ and near 600lb ft of torque, wagging the tail was all too easy. Worst, the electrohydraulic ceramic disc brakes were also super-sensitive and pedal travel l-o-n-g…until the brakes grabbed over the final few millimetres of movement. We were assured by the engineers that this sensitivity and other modifications would be corrected on the production cars. But then we were also promised there would never be a convertible SLR.

In November 2003 we were assured that the SLRs we drove in South Africa were ‘almost’ production, while the price had climbed £65,000 over the initial prediction to £313,465. Which was quite a lot nearly 20 years ago. Two days’ wheel time did nothing to dampen my original frustrations with a car that seemed almost automotive showbiz, the pointy nose conjuring images of a road legal McLaren F1 racer.

The cabin remained intimate and despite offering four different leather-padded, carbon fibre shelled buckets – Small, Medium and Large with XXL delivering fully individualised seating – I still felt cramped.

Now the steering is heavy and un-Mercedes-like in the swiftness of the rack and I soon realised that I was steering the SLR from the shoulders and not the wrists. And just when you expected the steering to begin loading up, there was a moment in any fast turn-in when the weighting lightened and any feel evaporated. South Africa’s choppy roads induced a hint of tramlining leaving the SLR feeling slightly skittish. In contrast, on very smooth roads the car tracked perfectly, felt incredibly stable and very capable – with 617bhp and 575lb ft of torque between 3250-5000rpm – of destroying big distances. Acceleration? No question Mercedes’ claim of 3.8sec to 100km/h (62mph) and just 10.8secs to 200km/h (124mph) was accurate. That’s in Drive mode. You could also switch over to one of three genuinely manual modes and shift gears via buttons on the steering wheel.

A constant howl from the tyres – the SLR was incredibly sensitive to road surfaces – that fought with the supercharger’s whine when the throttle was open meant the car was never quiet. Mercedes admitted McLaren’s dietary regimen precluded adding the 100kg of sound deadening that would have diminished the tyre noise. The lack of weight transfer, terrific body control and sure-footed and responsive handling meant the SLR stayed flat and composed. On roads where 125mph was commonplace, the SLR destroyed sweepers at more than double the marked speed, with no hint of front end push nor any suggestion of lift-off oversteer. Except below 20mph when any serious right foot prod induced an instant loss of traction, despite the ESP. The ride, taut, but never harsh, lacked true compliance, but somehow suited the car’s destiny as a long distance blaster.

What of the brakes? What brakes? The pedal moved over-centre through an elongated travel before suddenly grabbing while simultaneously squealing. The electrohydraulic system meant sensors measured pedal travel, not hydraulic pressure, demanding the driver adjust to the inconsistent relationship between pedal travel distance and pressure. Hit them hard and, once through the vagueness and lack of progression, they hauled the car down repeatedly from high speeds without any trace of fade. One, surely unintended effect of the airbrake, was a complete lack of rear visibility in any aggressive stop. The engineers insisted that drivers would become acclimatised to the brakes. I never did.

At launch Mercedes claimed two years’ worth of firm orders at a planned 500 SLRs a year, through the seven-year production cycle. But, much like the original 300 SL, demand proved disappointing. Despite the addition of a 722 Special edition (no need to explain the name) in 2006 and a convertible in 2007, when production ceased at the end of 2009, Woking had assembled only 2157 cars, over 1300 short of target.

Mercedes saw the SLR as an everyday supercar, complete with a boot with space enough for two golf bags. Perhaps. Given the ill-conceived proportions that created a contrived appearance, the significant flaws in steering, brakes, ride and noise levels, the SLR was too compromised ever to become a classic.

Not even the genius of Gordon Murray was enough to overcome the compromises involved in turning the Vision SLR into a production car that was always going to be more GT than sports car. I would have stayed away too.