The Mercedes-Benz G-Class, or G-Wagen, is an automotive icon recognized instantly around the globe. While many associate it with military origins, its inception in the early 1970s was actually sparked by a suggestion from the Shah of Iran. This “suggestion,” more likely a royal decree, paved the way for a vehicle that would eventually serve militaries and, much to the surprise of its creators, become a symbol of luxury and excess. By 2002, the four-door G-Wagen finally arrived stateside as the G500, a beacon of aspiration, especially for those seeking to make a bold statement.
The G500 quickly became a favorite among celebrities and those drawn to its imposing presence. This shift towards luxury, however, somewhat overshadowed its rugged roots. Mercedes, of course, wasn’t complaining. Each G-Wagen sold was incredibly profitable, a cash cow built on tooling long since paid for. One might even imagine a G-Wagen ferrying dignitaries to the very speech where Reagan famously called for the Berlin Wall to be torn down – a testament to its enduring and somewhat incongruous journey from military tool to status symbol.
Why the G-Wagen Appeal?
Admittedly, part of the allure of owning a G-Wagen, as I once did with a 2002 G500, is the perceived coolness factor. Looking back, the pursuit of coolness through vehicle ownership can be a bit misguided. As one former colleague bluntly put it, I probably looked “like a total douchebag.” Yet, at the time, the G500 seemed undeniably impressive, a vehicular equivalent of wearing a superhero cape to grade school picture day.
Beyond the fleeting desire for superficial coolness, there were somewhat more practical, though still questionable, justifications for acquiring a G500. Living in Atlanta, a city where snow is a near-mythical event, the rare snowfall of one particular year – which effectively paralyzed my Porsche and the city’s apparently non-existent snowplow fleet – planted the seed. Buying a G500 in early December felt like a preemptive strike against future snow-induced cabin fever.
The most rational, if perhaps excessive, reason for G500 ownership lies in its legendary off-road prowess. Boasting three locking differentials, the G-Wagen is engineered to conquer virtually any terrain – a capability most owners are more likely to test by mounting a Starbucks parking curb. However, fueled by past off-road adventures in a less opulent Land Cruiser, the idea of exploring rough terrain in a G-Wagen held a certain appeal.
Exterior Design: Form Follows… File Cabinet?
The G-Wagen’s styling is polarizing, often likened to a file cabinet due to its unapologetically boxy silhouette. This design, prioritizing function over form, results in right angles and prominent door handles. Given the G-Wagen’s age, it’s debatable whether the file cabinet actually predates its design inspiration.
Despite its utilitarian aesthetic, certain exterior elements of the G-Wagen are undeniably satisfying. The solid “thunk” of the doors closing exudes a sense of robustness, equally reassuring to military personnel and luxury shoppers.
The spare tire cover is another standout feature, eschewing flimsy materials for a substantial, body-colored metal casing proudly displaying “Mercedes-Benz.” This detail serves as a subtle message to those trailing behind in traffic, ensuring they have something to read while stuck in your considerable wake – visibility over a G-Wagen is not a given for other drivers.
However, the most distinctive exterior element is the front turn signals. Positioned atop the front fenders, separate from the headlights, they serve as a constant reminder of the G-Wagen’s hardcore, originally turn-signal-optional nature. On AMG models, these turn signals are adorned with miniature brush guards, a seemingly paradoxical addition, akin to bringing a baseball glove to a professional baseball game – perhaps justifiable only by the “you never know” logic prevalent among AMG owners.
Stepping Inside the G-Wagen
Despite its military-grade exterior, the G-Wagen’s interior is surprisingly conventional. Once you manage the climb into the cabin – a significant step up, requiring a running start for shorter individuals – the interior largely resembles that of any other Mercedes-Benz of the era. The rewarding door latch sound is a consistent perk, regardless of height.
Subtle nods to its military heritage remain within the cabin. The passenger-side dashboard grab handle is exceptionally sturdy, possibly structural. The turn signal stalk demands a firm push, perhaps requiring the strength of a German soldier. However, this is largely inconsequential, as G-Wagen drivers are not widely known for their enthusiastic turn signal usage.
Mercedes has attempted to soften the military vibe for civilian models. The grab handle, for example, incorporates a strip of faux wood – a somewhat quaint touch of “luxury” amidst the otherwise utilitarian design.
Behind the Wheel: A Unique Driving Experience (and Fuel Consumption)
Driving a G-Wagen is an experience unlike any other, and not always in a positive way. While handling and acceleration have their quirks, the most unsettling aspect is the disorienting effect of the vertical side windows.
Imagine driving in the middle lane and attempting a right lane change while being passed on the left. In a G-Wagen, this routine maneuver becomes a source of mild panic. The reflection of the passing car in the passenger-side window creates a confusing visual, disrupting spatial awareness. The hope is simply that the situation resolves itself before requiring any drastic actions, such as, heaven forbid, using a turn signal.
This momentary driving anxiety is often short-lived, quickly replaced by the more pressing concern of refueling. The G-Wagen’s abysmal fuel economy is legendary, and rightfully so. This thirstiness stems from two primary factors: its aerodynamic profile, closely resembling the aforementioned file cabinet, and its substantial weight, comparable to that of a small country. The G-Wagen’s curb weight is nearly triple that of a lightweight sports car, a stark illustration of its mass.
Surprisingly, this heft doesn’t translate to disastrous handling on winding roads. In fact, the G-Wagen exhibits unexpected maneuverability, steering more like a large E-Class sedan than a lumbering houseboat. This is high praise, considering its origins and the era when “entry-level luxury” was epitomized by the excessively long Lincoln Versailles.
However, the weight becomes a significant factor in straight-line driving, especially at speeds above 35 mph. The G-Wagen’s momentum and mass create a heightened sense of responsibility, or perhaps, impending doom. Pedestrians stepping into the road become a serious hazard, and even other vehicles pulling out are met with a sense of unavoidable collision. The brakes, while functional, feel inadequate for the task of halting such immense mass in an emergency.
Downhill driving in a G-Wagen is particularly unnerving, as it gathers speed with an alarming eagerness, as if the accelerator pedal is subtly engaged. AMG versions likely exacerbate these issues, adding sports-car acceleration to the already concerning mix of poor visibility, substantial weight, and limited braking power. At least those AMG models have brush guards for the turn signals, offering a semblance of off-road preparedness, even if fuel stops are more frequent than off-road excursions.
The Verdict: Image vs. Reality, and the Gas Pump Reality
The G-Wagen’s appeal is understandable. It projects an image of rugged capability, exclusivity, and undeniable coolness. However, firsthand ownership reveals a different reality.
Despite its robust reputation, the G-Wagen can be surprisingly fragile. My own example, sourced from Boston, suffered from significant undercarriage rust, resembling a relic recovered from the Titanic. Off-roading aspirations were quickly curtailed, leading to a sale to CarMax, likely followed by the vehicle’s eventual disintegration.
Beyond rust, G-Wagens are prone to various mechanical frailties. Window regulators are known to fail with regularity, incurring significant repair costs. Door locks can exhibit Land Rover-esque unreliability. Any serious off-road use raises concerns about expensive and potentially difficult-to-source repairs. Older, pre-luxury G-Wagens, however, are known for their greater durability and off-road prowess, better suited to challenging terrains.
The perception of “coolness” associated with G-Wagen ownership is also subjective and potentially misconstrued. Personal experience suggests that driving a G-Wagen can be surprisingly self-conscious. While some may relish the image of wealth and perceived arrogance, for others, it can feel like an ill-fitting persona.
Ultimately, individual experiences with a G-Wagen will vary. However, one aspect remains consistently dismal: fuel economy. Regardless of driving style or conditions, achieving anything resembling “better gas mileage” in a 2002 Mercedes-Benz G500 is a futile pursuit. Its thirst for fuel is as unwavering as its iconic, boxy silhouette, making frequent trips to the gas station an unavoidable part of the G-Wagen ownership experience.
Doug DeMuro operates PlaysWithCars.com. He’s owned an E63 AMG wagon, road-tripped across the US in a Lotus without air conditioning, and posted a six-minute lap time on the Circuit de Monaco in a rented Ford Fiesta. One year after becoming Porsche Cars North America’s youngest manager, he quit to become a writer. His parents are very disappointed.
