There’s a certain timeless allure to classic luxury cars, isn’t there? A nostalgic whisper that speaks of an era when vehicles were built with a different kind of dedication, a commitment to engineering and comfort that resonates even today. For me, that whisper was embodied by the 1986 Mercedes-Benz 560SEL. Having enjoyed the smooth ride of a 1988 300SEL, the prospect of experiencing that same refined journey, but with significantly more power, was simply irresistible. The 1986 Mercedes 560SEL wasn’t just a car; it was an upgrade to a legend, a chance to delve deeper into the world of classic Mercedes-Benz luxury.
My previous encounter with the 300SEL had introduced me to the virtues of the M103 Mercedes straight-six engine. This 3.0-liter powerplant, relatively new at the time having debuted in 1985 with the W124 series, was engineered for longevity and a serene driving experience. Equipped with fuel injection, a single overhead camshaft, and 12 valves, it delivered a respectable 177 horsepower, striking a balance between responsiveness and smooth operation. In the 300SEL, and even more so in the lighter 300E, this engine provided adequate performance. However, the 560SEL promised a different level of engagement, a more commanding presence on the road.
The heart of the 1986 Mercedes 560SEL, and its siblings like the 560SL and SEC, was the magnificent 5.6-liter SOHC, 16-valve V8 engine. In US specification, this power unit generated a healthy 238 horsepower. But the horsepower figure only tells part of the story. What truly defined this engine was its robust torque curve, peaking at 288 lb-ft at a relatively low engine speed. This characteristic bestowed upon the 560SEL an almost American V8-like grunt, providing effortless acceleration from virtually any speed. While modern horsepower figures might overshadow 238hp, in the context of the 1980s, particularly considering the comparatively lighter weight of the S-Class of that era, it was genuinely impressive. Driving expectations were also different then; remember, this was still the post-Malaise era where performance benchmarks were gradually being redefined. To put it in perspective, my BMW 320i of the time, with its 101 horsepower, was considered reasonably sprightly.
The performance figures for the 560SEL were certainly noteworthy for its time. A top speed of 142 mph placed it firmly in the upper echelon of performance sedans. Its 0-60 mph time of 7.0 seconds and quarter-mile time of 15.6 seconds were nothing to scoff at. Unlocking this performance, however, required understanding the Mercedes-Benz approach to throttle response, a characteristic that sometimes surprised drivers accustomed to domestic luxury cars.
As noted in discussions about the 300SEL, Mercedes-Benz employed a “kick-down” switch in many of their gasoline-powered automatic transmission vehicles from the 1960s onwards. This switch, located beneath the accelerator pedal, played a crucial role in accessing the car’s full performance potential. The four-speed automatic transmission would typically start in second gear under normal acceleration. However, depressing the accelerator pedal firmly enough to activate the kick-down switch signaled the transmission to start in first gear and execute more aggressive downshifts. Simply “flooring it” without engaging this switch wouldn’t elicit the immediate, forceful response that drivers of Cadillacs or Lincolns might have been accustomed to. This difference in throttle feel and responsiveness, I believe, contributed to some luxury car buyers in the 1980s feeling somewhat underwhelmed by the initial driving experience of Mercedes-Benz and BMW vehicles, ultimately leading some to explore the emerging Lexus brand, which offered a different kind of luxury and responsiveness.
Many Detroit-produced cars of that era favored a light throttle action, designed to create the impression of abundant power, even if the actual performance didn’t always match the sensation. Mercedes-Benz, on the other hand, took a contrasting approach. Their accelerator pedals required more deliberate pressure, offering a heavier feel. This initially might feel less responsive, but it was intentional, designed to provide more nuanced control and to emphasize the reserve of power available when needed. While American cars might feel immediately punchy off the line, the Mercedes-Benz V8 delivered sustained, effortless power at higher speeds, where some American V8s began to lose steam. My own 2016 Lexus seems to have found a middle ground, offering a lighter throttle feel than older Mercedes-Benz models, thanks to drive-by-wire technology, yet still retaining a sense of substance unlike the overly sensitive, almost switch-like throttle in my grandmother’s 1984 Pontiac Bonneville. That Bonneville’s 5.0-liter V8 could chirp the tires with minimal pedal input, but passing power at highway speeds was conspicuously absent.
Fast forward to 2003, and fate led me to a 1986 560SEL, finished in the same sophisticated anthracite grey as the one pictured, at a local “buy here, pay here” car lot. This particular establishment was primarily a tire and battery shop, but they also maintained a selection of used vehicles for sale. I had driven past their lot in a neighboring town numerous times. At the time, they frequently had interesting European imports among their inventory. The 560SEL sat prominently on the grass verge by the roadside, a handwritten “CASH ONLY” sign displayed on its windshield. This immediately piqued my interest. “Cash only” at a BHPH lot often signaled a distressed situation, a potential opportunity for someone willing to take on a project.
Upon closer inspection, the 560SEL presented surprisingly well cosmetically, almost suspiciously so. As someone who enjoys bringing mechanically sound but cosmetically challenged cars back to their former glory, this was a bit unusual. The paint exhibited a deep gloss, indicating prior refinishing work in areas, but still appeared attractive. The light grey leather interior was remarkably clean and intact, complemented by dark, glossy burl wood trim that hadn’t succumbed to fading or cracking. Cosmetically, it seemed to require little more than a thorough cleaning. The lot owner was approachable and chatty. He explained that he had acquired the Mercedes-Benz from a local BMW/Mercedes-Benz dealership (which had since closed) as a trade-in they didn’t want, approximately four years prior. Intriguingly, he had sold the 560SEL twice from his BHPH lot, and it had been repossessed both times.
This most recent time it had returned with a fresh set of issues: squealing brakes, weak heating, a missing stereo, and an intermittently illuminated antilock brake system (ABS) warning light. He had addressed the front brakes with new pads and rotors, but the remaining problems exceeded his willingness to invest further. He had received an estimate of $1000 or more for an ABS unit replacement. Instead of stating a price, he asked me to make a cash offer, “as is,” emphasizing that potential buyers were either requesting repairs or seeking financing. I offered $2,500 in cash, and he readily accepted. For him, this sale was likely pure profit. After two previous sales with substantial BHPH down payments and numerous high-interest monthly installments, he had probably already recouped his investment and then some.
I was confident that the missing radio was a straightforward fix with aftermarket options from Crutchfield. The weak heat, based on past experience with Mercedes-Benz vehicles, I suspected could be resolved with a new duovalve – a common issue, it seemed. The ABS warning light was a concern, but I reasoned that cars had been driven for decades without ABS. If a cost-effective repair wasn’t feasible, I was prepared to drive it as is and employ a discreet piece of black electrical tape to subdue the persistent warning light. The neatly arranged row of lights on the dashboard seemed almost designed for such a “solution.”
The glove compartment contained a trove of service records, including the stamped maintenance booklet, documenting regular dealer servicing up to approximately 90,000 miles, before its BHPH chapter. Installing a new radio from Crutchfield proved to be indeed hassle-free. And, as hoped, replacing the duovalve restored the heating system to full, toasty functionality. The ABS light, however, remained a frequent visitor, typically triggered by bumps in the road. The brakes themselves felt strong, and I never actually encountered a situation that would have engaged the ABS. The car consistently stopped quickly and smoothly.
However, a noticeable roaring sound had emerged, more pronounced at lower speeds around town and seemingly exacerbated in curves. This noise became my primary focus for investigation. Online research suggested worn wheel bearings as a likely culprit. Intriguingly, I also discovered that worn wheel bearings could indeed trigger the ABS warning light. The theory was that excessive play in the worn bearings could induce subtle, unsynchronized wheel movements, confusing the ABS sensors into thinking a malfunction was occurring.
I consulted my local tire and oil shop about replacing the wheel bearings. They were willing to undertake the work, and thankfully, the 1986 Mercedes 560SEL utilized the older, more affordable replaceable bearing type, not the integrated hub assemblies common in modern cars. Even today, these bearings remain remarkably inexpensive, costing only around $5 each from parts suppliers like Rock Auto.
Replacing the wheel bearings transformed the 560SEL. The roaring noise vanished completely, replaced by a newfound silence. And, remarkably, the ABS light never reappeared. The worn wheel bearings had been the source of both issues all along.
I enjoyed driving the 560SEL for approximately two years, adding about 30,000 miles to the odometer, reaching around 160,000 miles in total. Its excellent mechanical and cosmetic condition allowed me to trade it in at a new car dealership for a reasonable value when my next automotive acquisition presented itself. Beyond routine maintenance and a set of Michelin tires, I recall performing little else in terms of repairs. An unfortunate encounter with a tree in a poorly lit driveway resulted in no discernible damage to the robust Mercedes-Benz bumper. I also experienced my first and only tire blowout in this car, caused by running over a piece of someone else’s exhaust pipe on the road, which sliced open the passenger-side rear tire.
My subsequent car was a departure from the Mercedes-Benz lineage, but it proved to be another enjoyable vehicle and remained within my family with a relative for a considerable period, approximately twelve years. But it’s the memory of the 1986 Mercedes 560SEL, with its blend of power, luxury, and surprising resilience, that continues to stand out as a truly rewarding classic car experience.
