“I’m sorry. Say that again.” I yelled into the mouthpiece, pressing the phone hard up against one ear while plugging the other ear with my spare hand as I stepped out of a noisy event, laughing at the absurdity of what sounded like just another practical joke that my boss likes to play on me after eating too many Krispy Kremes.

“I thought I heard you say that you wanted me to fly 16 hours to Frankfurt, catch a 1 hour and 20 min train ride to Stuttgart, meet up with someone from Mercedes Benz Singapore and drive 2 and a half hours to Boxberg just to attend an 8 hour event.” I said with a chuckle. “Oh, and then go home that afternoon?” I ended with a booming laugh. “Yes.” Was all I heard from the other end of the line, said in the most final tone and wiping the smile clean off my face.

“When?” I asked, now with a nervous timbre in my voice. “This Friday. It’s for the AMG driving experience” “Sure.” I cut in, faster than an up shift at 7,500 RPM. “Let me just dust off my driving shoes.”

One thing you learn in this business is that certain letters do not go together. Like ‘A-M-G’ and ‘N-O’. You just say yes regardless of how ridiculous it may seem or how confused you may be. It is the guiding philosophy that the bespoke tuners have employed, no matter how absurd, when handling their customer’s personal requests, so the least we could do is return the favor. Besides, history has proven that it will always work out for the best. Always.

Held in the Bosch proving grounds in Boxberg, Germany, the AMG driver training is a mechanical orgy of power and performance that aims to teach AMG owners how to squeeze out every last drop of potential from their hand-built engines and tailored suspensions. It costs 1,140 Euros and is offered to a maximum of 40 participants. It is not exclusive to Mercedes Benz or AMG owners, but it does help.

Accommodation and meals are included in the price, of course, as is the unlimited use of AMG vehicles, including the awesome, race-ready, AMG SLK55 Black series that is currently used in the Asia cup. This is an event for grown ups that refuse to grow up. None of this patronizing crap you get in some driving schools – this is balls-out, throttle-to-the-firewall, when-in-doubt-go-flat-out type of driving exercises that can smoke up a good set of rubber faster than you could finish a cigarette.

I’m picturing the moment; locked in the perfect four wheel drift, smoke bellowing out of the rear wheels, clipping the final apex with one hand out the window and taking all the spoils that go along with victory. There are no prizes, really, but glory itself is already a generous enough reward. So are those addicting lateral g’s.

A full day at the Bosch proving grounds with AMG is guaranteed to scratch even the most severe itch for speed. It is the only driving event in the world that I have been to where participants are allowed to drive themselves around the high speed bowl. I have been to more than a few driving clinics, and have been around a speed bowl many times, but always as a jealous passenger.

The AMG training course is different; it is dedicated to giving each participant a thorough understanding of the physics of driving and knowing the limitations of the car, driver and conditions. AMG believe that the only way to do that is behind the wheel. No amount of theory could duplicate the feeling of entering a banked curve at 230 km/h and watching the horizon through your windshield start tilting 33 degrees. You begin to appreciate the speed. You respect it. And can finally understand why two men dedicated their lives to engineering a car that could really handle it.

I’m pulling 250 km/h just before entering the North side of the oval, which is restricted to 160 km/h. I brush the brakes gently, careful not to unsettle the balance and enter the curve at 180 km/h. I’m fully committed now – this would not be a good time to pull any sudden moves, like a dab of brakes or an abrupt lift off the throttle. The CL 63, with its staggering 507 hp, 630 nm of torque and a wind tunneled designed, AMG body kit, slices through the wind effortlessly, while those very clever styling cues direct the flow of cool air into the engine and brakes, allowing me to power out beautifully and hit the south side banking at 230 km/h.

Everything changes at speed. Your braking distances are multiplied exponentially. If it takes you 40 meters to stop from 100 km/h., don’t expect that to simply double to 80 meters when you are doing 200 km/h. It doesn’t work that way. To demonstrate, Patrick Simon, our instructor and 2-time champion of the Porsche Carrera cup, as well as a couple of Formula championships in Germany and some endurance races in the Nurburgring, asks us to bring our cars up to 100 km/h, 120, and finally 150km/h and then apply maximum braking once we see the red light.

You don’t just see the difference when braking at those different speeds – you feel it. You cannot cheat physics, but according to AMG, you can maximize it. This is probably why 2-time World Champion for Mclaren F1, Mika Hakkinen, said, “The most important feature of a sports car is the brake system”

Just about any bag of bolts can come to a stop with enough caliper pressure. The trick here is, to stop safely and in a straight line, especially when conditions are changing during your braking.

The next exercise was set up to simulate uneven surfaces of different grip levels. The testing surface was a combination of asphalt and painted asphalt, which looked a lot like an oversized chessboard; this would be comparable to having two wheels on the grass and two wheels on the road, which would be quite common on a highway during emergency braking when you are taking evasive action. They also turned the sprinklers on and asked us to switch off the ESP. The object here was not to brag to us how advanced AMG and Mercedes Benz cars are, but to learn how to control a car without the aid of fancy electronics. Only then will you become a better driver and appreciate the genius behind the electronic safety systems that come standard in every Mercedes Benz model.

After learning cornering techniques and getting plenty of sideways action on a wide skid pad that was set up to duplicate the very technical Sachs corner in Hockenheim, we slipped behind the wheel of something a little more comfortable – the AMG SLK 55 Black Series. Complete with roll-cage, six-point racing harness, racing seats, carbon-fiber roof and stripped of all the pansy stuff like leather and wood. This was a real man’s car. You almost expected a patch of hair to sprout from the hood.

“This is a little unfriendly competition.” Says our burly instructor, who looks more like a pro-wrestler than a Carrera cup champion. “All day you have been chatting to each other, laughing, exchanging email addresses etc. Now its war. The man next to you is not your friend – he is competition.” He finishes off in a thick German drawl.

The object was to go around an oval course, two at a time, starting from different points of the track. “You must do three laps. By the end of the third, you must come to a complete stop within the box of cones. You must now learn to drive and count at the same time. This is not so easy, yes?” Two by two, the field take each other on. National pride is at stake, as well as basic dignity. It’s a knock out format, where only one will survive. After countless runs, I hear the sweet sound of the instructor’s announcement over the radio. “The winner of this round gets to challenge James in the final race.”

I had made it as far as the last stage, my only hurdle now was the one they called the Flying Dutchman. You would have thought that world peace depended on the outcome. I started to hyperventilate a bit. ESP switched off, I hear the count...3, 2… everything from now becomes vague. I pin the throttle to the firewall like I was putting out a cigarette with my foot. I need to lift off a bit, as 520 nm of tree-stump pulling torque overwhelms the rear wheels and lights them up like a match being tossed on a donut soaked in petrol.

I gain some traction but the first corner is wet. I ease off slowly but still carry too much speed inducing a little under steer. The beautiful thing about this car is you can just as easily steer it with your right foot. I tease the pedal and flick the rear out slightly just to correct my line. I’m absolutely ‘on it’ on the exit. I call up all those 400 horses, and revel in the aural pleasure of those forged pistons and connecting rods thumping away, passing through one of the most finely tuned exhausts in the world, creating a cacophony of sounds that would make Mozart himself weep.


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