Here we go again. Mercedes-Benz has unleashed the AMG PureSpeed—a car so ludicrously over the top, it doesn’t just throw the rulebook out the window; it sets it on fire, dumps it in a bin, and then laughs as the bin explodes. This is the first model in their Mythos series, and by the looks of it, they’re not messing around. No roof, no windscreen, no common sense—just pure, unadulterated madness.
It’s essentially a two-seater rocket designed to make you question not only the laws of physics but also why anyone thought this was a good idea in the first place. And where better to unveil it than the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix? A place where restraint and subtlety go to die.
“Design That’ll Punch You in the Face”
Let’s talk about the looks. It’s low, wide, and angry—a shark with wheels that seems just as likely to bite you as it is to drive you to the shops (not that you’d ever take this thing to Tesco). Inspired by the AMG ONE hypercar, it’s got all the aerodynamic trickery of a Formula 1 car but with the added insanity of exposing you to the elements. Imagine strapping yourself to the front of a jet fighter, and you’re halfway there.
The details are borderline absurd. The HALO system—borrowed from Formula 1—replaces the A-pillar. Yes, you’re protected, but you’ll look like you’re driving around inside a carbon-fibre birdcage. Oh, and it lights up, because why wouldn’t it? Subtlety is for peasants.
And then there are the helmets—custom-made, colour-matched, and fitted with intercoms so you and your passenger can scream at each other over the roar of the wind. They even connect to your phone, so you can take calls while travelling at 200 mph, because clearly, texting and driving wasn’t dangerous enough.
“Power? Oh, It’s Got That in Spades.”
Under the bonnet is AMG’s legendary 4.0-litre V8 biturbo engine, producing 585 horsepower and 800 Nm of torque. That’s enough to launch this missile from 0 to 100 km/h in 3.6 seconds. Top speed? A rather pointless 315 km/h, given that at anything above 50, your face will feel like it’s being peeled off by an industrial-strength hairdryer.
The engine’s growl isn’t just heard—it’s felt. It’s the kind of noise that makes small children cry, dogs howl, and petrolheads weep with joy. Combine that with a lightning-fast 9-speed gearbox and fully variable all-wheel drive, and you’ve got a car that handles like a dream—assuming your dream involves being catapulted through time and space.
“Luxury? Sort Of.”
Inside, you get leather, carbon fibre, and an IWC clock that costs more than your average hatchback. There’s also a Burmester sound system with enough wattage to host a music festival, though good luck hearing it over the V8 symphony and the gale-force winds.
Comfort? Well, the seats are heated, but you’re still sitting in a car with no roof or windows, so unless you’re into frostbite, best stick to sunny climates. And if it rains? Mercedes thoughtfully includes a weather cover—a glorified poncho for your £500,000 toy.
“Is It a Car or a Death Wish?”
This isn’t just a car; it’s an experience. A monument to excess. A middle finger to practicality. Sure, it’s limited to 250 units, so the chances of seeing one on the road are about the same as winning the lottery. But if you do manage to get your hands on one, you’ll be the envy of every car enthusiast—and the mortal enemy of every cyclist, dog walker, and environmentalist within earshot.
So, should you buy one? Absolutely. Will you regret it? Probably. But hey, life’s too short to drive boring cars—or ones with roofs, apparently.
