“The R is for Race,” I’m told. I’m sitting deep in a 2019 Mercedes AMG GT R, painted in striking Green Hell Magno matte green, and staring out over one of the longest hoods I’ve ever seen. Mercedes-AMG developed the GT line to go toe-to-toe with the Porsche 911, and the $163k GT R is designed to put the smartypants 911 GT3 in its place. On looks alone, I’d say the GT R has the GT3 beat. To say I am excited about this test drive is an understatement.
But there is another car on my mind. Just an hour ago, I had my first drive of the 2019 Aston Martin Vantage, a car that’s also painted a target on the GT3’s substantial rear-end. I found the $150k Vantage to be one of the most emotionally exciting cars I’ve ever driven and a compelling alternative to the GT3. I loved the Vantage’s unfiltered road feel, but a key component to the Vantage’s allure was its AMG-built, rip-snorting 503 hp 4.0L V8. The AMG GT R has a very similar 577 hp 4.0L V8 stuffed under its hood. Which supercar will I prefer?
I am ready to put the GT R through the wringer, but then Mike—the friendly Mercedes representative who will accompany me on my test drive—drops a bomb. “The police are all over the Pebble Beach roads right now. We’ve had a few customers pulled over already. I’ll try and find some places for you to experience the GT R’s performance, but please watch out.” Well, this is going to be a tense test drive!
I inspect the rows of buttons lining the GT R’s transmission tunnel and try to understand their functions. Each button is a little color screen, displaying an icon that indicates the current setting of some system in the car. From what I can tell from the unfamiliar icons, I’m currently in the car’s comfort mode, with the suspension, gearbox and engine all in their calmest settings. This seems to be a fine way to start my drive.
Even though the GT R is roughly the same length as a 911 and three inches longer than a Vantage, it feels like a much bigger car from the driver’s seat. The GT R’s enlarged fenders fill the road. Its long green hood meets the windscreen at chest height (relative to my seating position) and seems to extend forever ahead of me. (This is a consequence of building a mid-engine car with the engine ahead of the driver.) The outward visibility is compromised by the way the wing mirrors are tucked in close to the A-pillars, creating broad blindspots that block my view of cross-traffic at intersections. The GT R feels imposing to drive in the tight confines of Pebble Beach.
And yet, once I’ve merged onto 17 Mile Drive, I find the GT R to be reasonably easy and comfortable to drive at slow speeds. Its long wheelbase and compliant (for a sports car) suspension avoid the Vantage’s choppy ride over broken roads. The moderately paced steering—a characteristic common to autobahn bred cars—is easy to use. The GT R’s V8 is better isolated from the cabin, so its voice is more hushed than a Vantage’s V8 or the 991 GT3’s flat-6. Versus either of the competitors, the GT R strikes me as a more civil car.
But nobody buys an AMG GT R because it’s semi-civil in the city; they buy it because it is shaped like a cruise missile and promises an equally explosive punch. So we switch the GT R into Sport+ mode to open up the taps. The suspension tightens, the steering firms, throttle response sharpens, and the exhaust opens.
I use half throttle to test the GT R’s newfound anger, but I have to immediately brake because of a rapidly approaching school zone. A cacophony of burbles and cracks emit from the twin tailpipes as we pass the school. Great timing, Mike…
Eventually, we find a few empty straightaways along the Pacific coast where I can use the GT R’s full acceleration. I blitz from 10 mph to 75 mph, clicking off seamless upshifts from the 7-speed dual-clutch transmission, and basking in the hearty rising thrum of the potent V8. The soundtrack is serious, like an AMG DTM race car that’s been equipped with mufflers. The acceleration is fast, but there is no squeal from the tires or jolt from the upshifts. The GT R is an efficient, no nonsense instrument of speed. Just like a Porsche GT3…
The impression stands when I half-heartedly sling the GT R through S turns along the world-famous Spyglass golf course. To no one’s surprise, GT R is unruffled by 25 mph corners taken at 40 mph. There is no point in challenging the GT R in this environment: If I were to test its cornering prowess at 80 mph, I’d just end up collecting a cadre of plaid-panted golfers and an expensive lawsuit. Yes, AMG really has the track-ready Porsche GT3 in its gun sights, and sadly I need a race track—not a road—to fully appreciate either car.
In contrast, the Aston Martin Vantage is a louder, sharper and more exciting car on public roads. Even though its engine is 74 hp weaker than the GT R’s, the Vantage feels every ounce as quick and is much more playful in the corners. It is as if Aston Martin was channeling the old AMG when it engineered the Vantage and the new AMG went off chasing Porsches.
I have one more chance to hoon the GT R before my test drive is over. Turning left from a stop sign, I try a little skid, and I’m permitted some overrotation by the nine-stage traction control. I’d love to loosen the reins by twisting the little yellow traction-control knob in the center of the gray carbon and black leather dashboard, but this is not the right time or place. I am sure the GT R is a drift missile when taken off its leash.
With my test drive complete, I am left scratching my head: What have I learned? I’ve found the GT R to be a fast and capable sports car, but one that is bored by suburban driving. At best, the GT R won’t punish you for its boredom, and it actually quiets down and cruises comfortably in town; in this regard, it has the GT3 and Vantage beat. But like the track-focused GT3, I need a race track to sample and savor the GT R in its full glory.
While I can’t predict which of the GT R, GT3 and Vantage I’d prefer at the track, I can easily and eagerly say that on public roads, the rowdy and feelsome Vantage makes me guffaw the most.
Mike's Steering Column 