They say familiarity breeds contempt, but that isn’t the case with my CTS-V wagon. The V has been mine for over four years, and I’m still loving it and determined to hold on to it for as long as I can!
(Read my other long term CTS-V posts here, here and here.)
Yet, my relationship with the V hasn’t evolved exactly as I’d imagined. I’d dreamt of sporting drives—blasts over the mountains and up the coast. I planned to take it to track days and indulge in skids. But the visions didn’t last long.
Yes, the V wagon was a hoot in the hills, where it charged like a rhino (never hiding its considerable weight) and smashed roads to smithereens. But, the car never felt bulletproof—the LSD was easily overheated—so my track ambitions were tempered.
Two years ago, I had the choice of fortifying the wicked wagon or purchasing a sports car, and I chose the latter. My new Mercedes-AMG GT S is why the CTS-V sits when I have the need for speed and why the wagon is now my fast car to drive slow.
A fast car to drive slow?
Yeah, I’m now that guy—the one younger me never understood—with a gazillion-horsepower super machine who tools around below the speed limit and poses for pictures. I take the V on errands, school runs, and to a few too many Instagram photoshoots. It’s embarrassing, but the edgy V looks so good in the frame!
In my defense, the fast wagon is rewarding to drive slowly. The steering is sublime: Unlike mute, modern steering, the V writes volumes on the road surface and tire work. I eat it up. The manual gearbox is fun to slot through the gears and heal-toe in traffic. (Even if it’s not as tight and crisp as a Cayman GT4’s.) And the magnetic-ride suspension continues to amaze me with its comfort when it’s strolling over potholes and speed bumps.
How about that 6.2L V8? Considering that its output (556 hp) well exceeds my Model 3’s and AMG’s, it’s surprisingly lazy. Unless I’m foot-to-the-floor, the big V8 revs leisurely and pushes along the wagon with an unhurried shove. It takes a kick in the gonads before this rhino tries to run me off the road.
The V8 sure is thirsty, though, and with today’s $6.00/gal fuel prices, it tries to break the bank. Thankfully, I haven’t spent a dime on maintenance or repairs this year. (Then again, the wagon only went 1250 miles this year…)
Several minor items need attention, and I’ll address them at the next oil change. One TPMS sensor died, and the weatherproof sheath around a door wiring bundle cracked.
How has the nine-year-old V aged? Well, the shift boot leather squeaks during shifts, the pedal-box carpet is misaligned, the seat bolsters are scuffed, the suspension creaks in the cold, the tail lights are pulling away from the body, and the hood wears a blotchy repaint. But these are the same troubles I bought the V with. What’s new are a few superficial scrapes and dings from clumsy parking.
When I purchased the V four years ago, I planned to rectify these minor issues. But the path to hell is paved with good intentions, and I’m well on my way to the car underworld.
I got quotes to fix the seat leather and carpet, then never acted. I dreamt of tightening the suspension with new OEM shocks and bushings, but I couldn’t justify the cost. I complained about the slightly sloppy shifter but made excuses about the stock purity of my CTS-V.
The tail lights, though, are a thorn I may pick. They were replaced twice under warranty and pulled away from the body yet again! I am convinced the OEM design is flawed. I might try a crafty fix from the forums. I might…
Early in the pandemic, I was flooded with unprompted offers to buy the CTS-V wagon. The flow has slowed, but car guys still look inquisitively at the V. A part of me is tempted to cash in, stop driving the fast wagon slowly, and upgrade to some track-worthy four door like a CT5-V Blackwing.
But I’d miss the weirdo long roof and hydraulic steering, so I’m holding on to the CTS-V wagon. Because right now, I can’t think of a better family-friendly gonzo machine that I’d rather own.
Mike's Steering Column 