Stepping onto the Salinas Airport tarmac, amidst the sleek silhouettes of private jets flown in for Monterey Car Week, a familiar sensation washes over me. It’s a potent cocktail of sensory inputs – the rich aroma of warm engine oil mingling with aged leather and classic houndstooth fabric, the tactile pleasure of the Becker cassette stereo’s knurled knobs, the satisfying notches of the oversized steering wheel beneath my fingers.
But beyond these tangible details, there’s something more profound at play. It’s the distinct feeling of transcending time itself.
Almost a decade ago, coinciding with the launch of The Drive, I had the privilege of experiencing the V8-powered Mercedes C111 concept car firsthand at Pebble Beach. It was a truly mind-bending encounter, piloting a vehicle conceived in my birth year, a futuristic vision that, in many ways, never fully materialized. Now, I find myself back in the driver’s seat of another iteration of this iconic, tawny spaceship, once again blurring the lines between past, present, and future in my personal automotive timeline.
The Mercedes-Benz C111, a project limited to a mere dozen examples, was born as a multifaceted endeavor. Primarily, it served as a design laboratory, pioneering the sharp, aerodynamic “wedge” styling that would define concept car aesthetics and influence supercar designs for decades to come. Its sleek, wind-cheating form was meticulously crafted to maximize performance and handling through advanced aerodynamics.
However, the C111’s significance extended far beyond just aesthetics. It was also conceived as a mobile testbed for the revolutionary Wankel engine, a rotary combustion engine developed in the 1930s. This engine promised a compelling combination of enhanced power, improved efficiency, and reduced weight, arriving at a crucial juncture when the automotive industry was beginning to grapple with tightening regulations on fuel consumption and emissions. The initial C111 debuted with a potent 275-horsepower three-rotor direct fuel-injected Wankel engine. Driven by the ambition to reach a staggering 186 mph (300 km/h) top speed, Mercedes-Benz soon unveiled a more formidable four-rotor variant producing 350 hp – the very car I was about to experience.
“This car was engineered from the ground up around the Wankel engine,” explained a Mercedes Classic Center technician prior to my drive. “Therefore, to truly understand the C111, especially the definitive four-rotor version, is to experience it with this engine.”
It’s remarkable how deeply certain automobiles can embed themselves within one’s automotive consciousness. Throughout my career, I’ve been privileged to drive legendary machines that, as a car-obsessed child growing up in 1970s Detroit, were the stuff of Hot Wheels fantasies, bedroom posters, and dog-eared magazine articles. From Gary Cooper’s magnificent Duesenberg SSJ to the opulent Mercedes 540K, the uniquely French Facel Vega, and every iteration of Lamborghini’s iconic V12 lineage, I’ve sampled automotive royalty. Yet, sliding over the C111’s wide, vinyl-clad sill and maneuvering my feet into the narrow confines of the pedal box instantly transported me back to that initial 2015 drive.
The distinctive view over the dramatically arched fenders, the equally curvaceous rear haunches dominating the rearview mirror, the precise yet slightly yielding action of the dogleg ZF transmission with its shifter-mounted push-button for engaging first gear, the substantial heft of the steering, and the warm air emanating from the ventilation system – these sensations flooded back with vivid clarity.
However, what truly surprised me on this second encounter was the C111’s exceptional chassis balance and handling composure, the effortless synergy of all its components, and the sheer potency of its power delivery. While the car’s impending Concours d’Elegance appearance limited my exploration of the upper reaches of the rev range, the power delivery was nothing short of breathtaking. Its 350 horsepower output rivaled that of contemporary Ferraris, yet the C111 boasted a significantly lighter structure, tipping the scales several hundred pounds less.
During my previous experience nine years prior, I had barely shifted the V8-powered C111 beyond second gear, navigating the crowded 17-Mile Drive amidst a breathtaking array of multi-million dollar classic cars. But here, on the expansive runway, I could finally unleash the C111’s potential, experiencing its eagerness, its refined power delivery, and its insatiable appetite for speed. Of course, like all Wankel engines, it also has a well-documented thirst for oil and internal component replacements.
“The primary obstacle with the Wankel engine was achieving the stringent durability standards that Mercedes-Benz demands,” the technician revealed. “Ultimately, this factor led to the cancellation of the engine project.”
Concept cars, by their very nature, represent unfulfilled possibilities – a glimpse into what might have been. And the C111 served as a crucial laboratory for Mercedes-Benz, a platform to rigorously test emerging technologies. Beyond its innovative powertrains, it became the proving ground for early applications of polymer body panels, turbocharging systems, and anti-lock braking technology. While never intended for mass production, or even limited series production as an exclusive road car, the C111 ignited fervent desire among enthusiasts. Customers reportedly offered blank checks, imploring Mercedes-Benz to bring it to market. As I pressed the accelerator, the question lingered: What if the Wankel-powered C111, despite its inherent engineering challenges, had become the supercar icon it was destined to be?
“Scheduled engine-out services every 15,000 or 20,000 miles were commonplace for Ferraris of that era,” I remarked. “Even by modern standards, for a car boasting this level of technology and performance, such maintenance intervals wouldn’t be considered unreasonable, certainly not a deal-breaker.”
The technician nodded in agreement, then offered a telling shrug. “Mercedes,” he simply stated, “is not Ferrari.”
My passion lies with cars that transcend their era, vehicles so radically different from their contemporaries that they seem almost to have materialized from another dimension. This pantheon includes outliers like the revolutionary Citroën DS and Buckminster Fuller’s visionary Dymaxion car. It even encompasses Mercedes’ own iconic 300 SL Gullwing. I shared this sentiment with the technician as our drive concluded – the notion that Mercedes-Benz once dared to dream beyond its traditionally pragmatic approach, that it briefly considered abandoning its Teutonic rationality to create a Wankel-powered supercar. Perhaps, I mused, that spirit of audacious innovation might one day resurface. He nodded once more in agreement, then offered another enigmatic shrug.
