Big sedans sized for four fat-cats. Big engines dishing out 400ish horses. Big price tags ganged near $100,000. And, most important, BIG egos in the driver’s seat. See, regular sensible rich people have plenty of roomy luxurious sedans to choose from with window-stickers around $80 grand. Therefore, we hoi polloi can only assume the high-rollers forking over a $CK note for one of these are trying to tell the world something. Maybe they’re letting their subordinates at The Firm know “the corner office is mine for keeps”; maybe they’re marking their neighborhood as the alpha dog on the block; or maybe they’re showing the boys at The Club who’s Mr.Big without visiting the steam room. Whatever the message, we decided to sample the best means of enunciating it in English, Italian, Japanese, and German.
Selecting the best $100K sedans from those first three countries was easy. From Japan, there’s the freshly minted ne-plus-ultra Lexus. Invoking V-12 nomenclature, the LS 600hL marries a direct-injected 5.0 liter V-8 with Hybrid Synergy Drive to produce 438 combined horsepower (tops in this test) with the convenience of 444 miles of city driving range between fill-ups (who cares about gas mileage in this realm?). Standard techno-toys include intuitive park assist, fully adaptive LED headlamps, a 19-speaker Mark Levinson audio system, and all-wheel drive with a Torsen center differential.
From Old Blighty comes Jaguar’s all-alluminum Super V8-the stretch-limo version of the supercharged XJR and the polar opposite of the Lexus. Sure, similar tech is available here, including radar cruise control, voice control, and a touch-screen nav/computer, but this car, mildly restyled inside and out for 2008, is all about olde worlde charm. It’s stuffed to brimming with the sort of inlaid wood and leather furniture that decorates St. Andrews Hall.
Italy’s exotic entry is the Maserati Quattroporte. Introduced for 2004 with perhaps a bit too much Ferrari DNA, it finally gets a civilized six-speed automatic, though masochists can still choose the herky-jerky robotized manual Duo-Select option. We went for the Sport GT version, with its more athletic 20-inch footwear, but this car is all about having it your way. There are three model series available with myriad paint, leather, and wood trim choices.
Germany’s entry was tougher to pick. BMW’s Alpina B7 was an option, but the current 7 Series is on its way out and recruiting voter/drivers willing to contend with its cantankerous iDrive was difficult, so it was axed. Audi’s Lambo-V-10-powered S8 is another compelling choice, but its 59/41-percent front/rear weight distribution and all-wheel drive mute the handling a bit, and its bodywork is perhaps conservative to a fault. So we invited the tech-savvy and slightly outré Mercedes-Benz S550. New for 2007, it pushes the tech envelope with a seven-speed automatic and options like Night-View Assist and Distronic cruise control that’ll brake to a stop and accelerate off again automatically in traffic.
So with that introduction to the players, lets strap on an attitude and hit the highways to see which of these bucks-up bruisers gives our ego the biggest boost.
Our quest started off in southern Orange County with a long freeway slog offering plenty of time to soak up the ambiance of each car, fiddle with the controls, and sample the sound systems. It didn’t take many miles for these cars to imprint their unique personalities on us. Thanks to new acoustic glass, an air-tight seal around the hood, and improved sound-dampening materials, the Jaguar’s drawing-room cockpit was noticeably quieter than the others. Yes, quieter even than that of the Lexus, which wears summer-rated Dunlop SP Sport Maxx 101 tires that generate noticeable road noise and go clippity-clop over expansion joints. (The Jag was alone in wearing four-season footwear.) Lexus and Jab both use touch screens to control navigation, while Mercedes and Maserati opt for the mouse-**** approach. The Lexus may be the easiest to work with, because of the large number of auxiliary buttons provided, but these clutter the center stack and console for a busy, less luxurious appearance that’s not helped by the LS 600hL’s strange maroon-hued wood trim. Cruising at 75 MPH, the Lexus’s econo gauge needle rests on the border between “Power” and “Economy” as the 19 Mark Levinson speakers delight the ear with perhaps the sweetest tones in this group.
Mercedes raises the ****-mouse to a high art, placing it under a lovely palm rest and augmenting it with just enough of the right buttons to allow easy direct access to frequently used functions. The S550 presents information in interesting ways, too. The radar cruise, for example, indicates the set speed on the speedometer face and also displays the speed of any cars ahead that are within range, showing you how slow it’ll go if you don’t find a way around them. Lexus and Jag simply light indicators when cars come within range. This technolux approach permeates a mod interior decorated with narrow swaths of wood underlined in chrome. It’s a place you want to hang out in, especially given the chassis’s pleasing balance between hushed ride and just enough road feel. The Maserati, by marked contrast, provides loads of road feel--without undue harshness--even when loping along with the cruise set. Its wood and leather are the Jag’s equal for quality, but rendered as only the Italians could--striped mahogany adorns the doors and center stack, its graining angled up and forward, meeting at the center of the car like arrows pointing ahead. Or select from carbon fiber, piano-black, or five other wood trims. The nicest thing anyone had to say about the nav/computer user-interface is that it represents a quantum improvement over previous Maserati systems (faint praise indeed). This is a car that reveals itself fully only after hours of intimate study of two user manuals.
The rear seats also reflect the car’s personalities. Jaguar pampers with individual climate controls, DVD screens, sunshades, and tray tables ( a twee affectation, they’re unsuitable for either writing or spreading Dijon). The soft, supple seats boast electric recline, heating, and three memory positions each. Lexus and Mercedes each offer an inch or two more legroom in back than the Jag does, but few amenities aside from vanity mirrors and (in the Lexus) a tiny beer-fridge. (Multifunction thrones are available in either). The Benz boasts power side-window sunshades so the paparazzi need never glimpse even a flash of ring bling, but its seats are as firm as a German dominatrix. Maserati offers the smallest rear seat, but by reclining the backrest and raising the front of the cushion, it becomes the most comfortable for sleeping.
Next, we ran each car around a 20-mile loop up and around Mt. Palomar (of observatory fame), an exercise that further cemented our impressions of these disparate carriages. The all-wheel drive Lexus exhibited pigheaded understeer in most corners, often attended by the beep-beep nagging of the stability nanny. Switching it off kills the beeps, but never allows one scintilla of chassis slip angle. And despite being fitted with $3,000 worth of active anti-roll bars, the LS 600hL seemed to roll as much or more than the other cars here, even when set to “sport” mode (it’s borderline nautical in “comfort”). Charging hard up the hill depleted the battery quickly (actually, pressing the gas pedal on any type of road kills the battery quickly), and horsing the CVT through its eight virtual gear ratios with liberal doses of carpet-crushing throttle provoked an unseemly “hybrid system overheat” warning. We didn’t find the hybrid gear worthy of sacrificing a golf-bag’s worth of trunk space for and, after this session, all editors were ready to red-pencil the 600 badge down to a 500.
At first, it feels unseemly hustling the Jag’s fine furniture up mountain switchbacks at speed, until you notice that, like the finest British butlers, it serves masters without complaint. There is body roll, and some tire noise (less than in the Lexus), but this featherweight changes directions willingly. The steering is light but never numb, and the stability control is perhaps the most permissive here. One editor managed to provoke a full four-wheel drift before the brakes pulsed him back in line. Still, the lack of lateral support in the new seats suggests this ain’t the car’s raison d’etre.
Equipped with the $3920 Active Body Control coil/hydraulic semi-active suspension, the S550 corners flat, and its summer tires never squeal. The stability-control system can be switched off, kind of. Tromp on the gas at a corner exit, and it’ll give you one tail wag, but shuts down the party on the second wag. It’s not buzz-kill intrusive even in the fully on mode. Manual shifting can be done via switches on the back of the steering wheel (everyone preferred the Maserati’s fixed paddles), but the S550 seven-speed’s adaptive shift logic is so good—holding lower gears mid-corner or when lifting briefly—the buttons aren’t all that necessary (Maserati’s six-speed has no such sport logic, so you get to work its aluminum paddles a lot.
Of course, the brightest star on Mt. Palomar was our Italian stallion. With a 48/52 percent front/rear weight bias and 20-inch rubber sized accordingly (245/35 front, 285/30 rear), this car corners like a face-wrinkling g-sled. There’s so much grip that the stability-control system is largely unnecessary on dry pavement. The steering is as direct and communicative as a Ferrari 599’s, and bumps and ruts never upset its line in a corner (they do shake the wheel a bit excessively, however). With the second-best weight-to-power ratio in this test and gearing that’s at least 20 percent shorter than the other sedans’, it’s no wonder the 4Porte delivers grin-inducing acceleration even without the spectacular engine note, which just completes the whole sensory extravaganza.
Our final trial was the track-testing session, the results of which make this foursome look like identical cousins. A mere 0.3 second separates them through 90 mph and the quarter mile, though in the handling tests, the Quattroporte pulls well ahead of the crowd braking in a scant 107 feet from 60 mph (versus the Jag’s 134) and circulating the skidpad at 0.91 g (0.08-0.11g ahead of the pack) and completing the figure-eight course roughly a second and 0.04 g ahead of the others. The last test result, which we wouldn’t bother noting if not for the presence of a greener-than-thou hybrid, is fuel economy. The Lexus managed 14.9 mpg versus 11.7-12.9 for the others—just 15 percent above average.
In the end, the Lexus strikes us as ideal for CEOs who’ve made their fortunes plundering the earth’s resources and want to appear to be making amends. It said little to us beyond “Forgive me; I’m not quite the guzzler I appear to be.” Its smugness irked us almost as much as its undeserved 600 badge. We’d all sooner drive the tire-smoking LS 460L for $33K less, so the 600 finishes fourth. The Jaguar Super V8 says “I’m a ladder-climbing establishment type who’s made it.” We respect that, we enjoyed thrashing and cruising in this supercharged boudoir, and we appreciate its (relative) value pricing, so it finishes third. The Mercedes-Benz S550 is arguably the best car here by all objective measures. It’s suave-looking inside and out, performs admirably, pushes the technological envelope enough to remain relevant for years, command valet respect nationwide and says, “This plutocrat isn’t afraid of the future.”
But the one car that every voter desperately wanted to mortgage his soul to own was the Maserati. “I think that is the best-handling sedan I’ve ever driven,” gushed St. Antoine on climbing out atop Mt. Palomar—tall praise from someone with over two decades’ experience evaluating sport sedans. Nobody could argue. We all know this car will drive its owner crazy reaching for a CD changer mounted below the steering column, waiting forever for the nav system to calculate a route, cranking the engine three times as long as in any other car to start, listening to a squeak in the driver’s should belt, etc. None of that matters when this car is shouting, “I’m so special I had this gorgeous car tailor-made for me and you’re damned lucky just to catch a glimpse of it.” It made use feel like F1 glamour-****** and we physically ached to see it go. If you can swing $116,500 plus some options, look no further for the feel-big sedan of our time.

Charging hard up the hill depleted the battery quickly (actually, pressing the gas pedal on any type of road kills the battery quickly), and horsing the CVT through its eight virtual gear ratios with liberal doses of carpet-crushing throttle provoked an unseemly “hybrid system overheat” warning. We didn’t find the hybrid gear worthy of sacrificing a golf-bag’s worth of trunk space for and, after this session, all editors were ready to red-pencil the 600 badge down to a 500.

In the end, the Lexus strikes us as ideal for CEOs who’ve made their fortunes plundering the earth’s resources and want to appear to be making amends. It said little to us beyond “Forgive me; I’m not quite the guzzler I appear to be.” Its smugness irked us almost as much as its undeserved 600 badge. We’d all sooner drive the tire-smoking LS 460L for $33K less, so the 600 finishes fourth.