What It Was Like Driving The New Electric Mercedes G-Wagen And Its Primitive Predecessors

I’m deep in a muddy bath, in a Languedoc vineyard with hilltop views of the Mediterranean Sea in southern France. But what sounds like a Cialis ad has a purpose, once my brain is leached of the local Syrah, Grenache and Mourvèdre: Driving all three vintages of the redesigned 2025 Mercedes G-Class, to decide which pairs best with varying tastes. This being a G-Class, there’s not a two-buck-Chuck in the bunch. 

That includes the electric mouthful called the “G 580 with EQ Technology.” I cannonball this 3.5-ton SUV into 34 inches of mucky water, fast growing deeper in all-day rain. That fording limit is nearly six inches deeper than the base G 550, which trades its V-8 for Mercedes’ stronger 3.0-liter, 48-volt mild hybrid V-6 with 443 horsepower (up 27 hp); or the madcap AMG G 63 with the 48-volt torque filler, and a stand-pat 577 horsepower and 627 pound-feet of peak torque from a 4.0-liter bi-turbo V-8. 

As Mercedes intended, the tank-turning, electric showboat G 580 wears the off-road crown, at least if a DC charger is part of your personal wilderness. To be fair, gas stations don’t sprout like wildflowers in Denali or Yellowstone, and roughly 240 miles of electric range would cover days of low-speed overlanding. (The EPA hasn’t provided an official range estimate). Yet its roly-poly handling makes the G 580 the least satisfying choice on pavement, aside from green bona fides that could make it a dream SUV for the Oscars, Met Gala or other high-profile arrivals. Even if Mercedes’ 45-year-old design icon can’t fit as many celebrities as its Sprinter van, it’s a hell of a lot better looking.

In many ways, the source of the G-Wagen’s power has historically been the least interesting thing about it, despite today’s mystifying preference for extravagantly muscled AMG versions. Actually, it’s not that mystifying: The AMG costs the most. As an impatient Kardashian would huff to a salesman, “Why didn’t you tell me that in the first place?”

As longer memories will affirm, it wasn’t always this way.

Envisioned in 1974 prototypes as an unpretentious civilian and military workhorse, with Austrian production from Daimler Steyr Puch beginning in 1979, the G-Class has accommodated a grab bag of engines over 45 years: Four, five, six, eight or 12 cylinders, gasoline or diesel. Among vintage charmers I drive from Mercedes’ classic collection, I fall for the least powerful. A 1980 230 G with a 90-horsepower, 2.3-liter carbureted four-banger; and a wagon-bodied, 1989 300 GD softtop cabriolet with 88 horses from a five-cylinder inline diesel. Both shift their way through Montpelier streets with four-speed manuals.

From our more-recent era of G-Class excess, the rare AMG G 65 V-12 is on hand for drives. The insane portal-axled 6×6 and 4×4 Squared models, and a one-of-99 Maybach G 650 Landaulet, are unfortunately here only as static display teases.

Point being, G-Classes have been great with all sorts of engines, and for 2025, even with an EV in the mix, anyone considering one can plop in whichever powertrain strikes their fancy, and not feel they’ve chosen wrong. Some journalist colleagues sneezed at the G 550 (technically we drove the Euro version, called the G 500), the familiar reflexive allergy to the loss of any V-8. No matter that the six-cylinder version is stronger, faster and should deliver roughly 15-percent better fuel economy than the previous model’s sailor-swilling 14 mpg. Yet some colleagues voiced vague demerits over the engine’s lack of “character.” Translation: Its petrol-burning farts just aren’t juicy enough. 

I actually found the six-cylinder’s 443-hp punch well-suited to an SUV cruiser that will spend most days easing into luxury docks. Especially for roughly $35,000 to $40,000 less than the AMG or G 580 Edition One. If you’re feeling insecure about saving that much money, put a fake AMG badge on it, like everyone else, and call it a day. 

For that G 580, four electric motors, with internal oil cooling and water jackets are paired with inverters in dual housings bolted to the chassis. The motors spin at up to 14,400 rpm. Half shafts shoot nearly 145 horsepower and 215 pound-feet of torque to each Falken Wildpeak-shod wheel, for a hulking 579 horsepower and 859 pound-feet. Slick silicon-carbide mosfets convert stored DC power to three-phase AC for propulsion with a claimed 99-percent efficiency. 

The two-tier, 116 kilowatt-hour battery that I’m dunking like a giant crouton in French soup is secured entirely within the G-Wagen’s steel ladder frame, attached with 50 steel screws. Side rail sections grow taller to make it fit, and to add rigidity due to the elimination of crossbars. That battery is protected against moisture, dirt or shocks by a sandwich of carbon fiber and composite that weighs 127 pounds, which Mercedes says is one-third the mass of a comparable steel skidplate. 

The armored casing is welcome when I point the G 580 up steep, bouldered slopes toward the spinning blades of a windfarm. Benz says the plug-in G can climb 45-degree grades, and tilt sideways up to 35 degrees. Because the EV’s body sits higher than ICE versions (the roof is 0.8 inches taller), approach and departure angles are also improved, through center breakover angle is a touch worse. 

Rivian’s models also boast a four-motor layout. But Mercedes one-ups that with a world’s EV first: Each motor integrates a selectable low-range, roughly 2:1 mechanical gear reduction, multiplying torque for off-road adventure at up to 53 mph. Yes, every electric motor generates full torque at zero rpm anyway. But electric motors don’t do their best work at consistent low speeds, generating excess heat. Allowing motors to spin faster in low range, Mercedes engineers say, holds temperatures in check for better durability.  

A quick word about the G 580’s counterintuitive solid rear-axle design: A 21st-century EV whose De Dion layout dates to 1894. Or, nine years before Henry Ford and a dozen partners plunked down $28,000 to form his namesake company. Practically, the layout allows matched mounting points, so ICE and EV versions can be built on the same assembly line; and helps package the motors while meeting lofty off-road performance targets, including a 9.9-inch ground clearance. 

To assess pros and cons, the Ed. urged me to crawl below decks and get the scoop on whether the lifespan of rear CV joints especially might be compromised by acute articulation angles. With the ground a sloppy mess, Mercedes saved my trousers by transporting a cutaway chassis, cutaway motors and engineers to explain it all. 

The rear De Dion components, including a classic Watts linkage behind the drive unit to control lateral forces, appear about as high-tech as steel porch railings. For the front double-wishbone suspension, an engineer points out sliding extension shafts inside chassis-mounted electric drive units. Those extenders are required to bridge a longer gap to the universal joint and front wheels. Yet at the rear, the dual-joint halfshafts (with no extenders) travel virtually the same distance to a relatively inboard wheel connector. The result? Front or rear, maximum CV joint articulation is essentially a wash. If anything, front CV joints face more stress by having to adjust to lateral forces via steering; rear joints only need to move vertically. My own two cents? Consider how often a typical G-Class’ wheels will be placed in extreme, off-road Twister positions. I’ll wait. 

Back on the trails, we say “auf Wiedersehen” to the G-Class’ familiar trio of dashboard differential locks. Those relatively dawdling diffs are replaced by “virtual differentials” that can send up to 100 percent of torque to any individual wheel in as little as 300 milliseconds. An Intelligent Crawl feature lets the Mercedes climb like a semi-autonomous mountain goat at three selectable speeds, including using brake recuperation to save wear on mechanical brakes. An Off-Road Cockpit array for the lavish dual-screen MBUX infotainment system offers the Transparent Bonnet, a camera view of terrain and front wheels beneath the bumper. It tends toward gimmickry, but does allow drivers to place wheels on obstacles without a human spotter having to jump outside. 

The quad-motor-torque-vectoring setup also teaches this old German Shepherd a new trick: “G-Turn,” which Mercedes appropriately showed in the wilds of the Vegas Strip. 

Rivian decided to not integrate this campground attention-getter, ostensibly due to the Tread Lightly ethos. Mercedes itself debated whether the ability to spin up to two full revolutions was a mere gimmick. It mostly is, but after playing “What Would Brian Boitano Do?” in a muddy field, I’m glad it’s aboard. Pop into low-range Rock mode, squeeze a paddle, hold the steering wheel dead straight (or the system shuts down), and G-Turn drives left wheels forward and right wheels in reverse (or vice-versa) for a cheap thrill. 

The related G-Steer feature does bring practical advantage off-road. The Mercedes can decelerate an inside rear wheel and overdrive an outside wheel to pivot in tight quarters with a turning circle more akin to a Suzuki Sidekick.

As a former serial Wrangler owner, I enjoy crawling over off-road obstacles as much as the next guy. The only thing better is speeding off-road. So the day’s surprise highlight was no contest: Mercedes lets us drive AMG G 63 laps on vertiginous trails at rally-esque speeds (with a pro wingman keeping us safe), including drifting through turns and catching air over a blind jump.

The AMG’s hydraulic suspension, with interlinked dampers that eliminate mechanical anti-roll bars, makes it the most buttoned-down version. Part of the AMG Offroad Package Pro, the system can adjust roll stiffness across a vast spectrum, from a buttoned-down 6,000 newtons per degree in Sport Plus to a lolling 1,500 newtons in Off Road. Taking cues from AMG’s track-centric performers, a Trail mode lets drivers adjust traction across seven levels. AMG engineers also sweated details for Sand and Rock modes, including a Traction Pro feature that Mercedes says can help extricate a G-Class that’s stuck in sand, snow or muck. All cool stuff, I suppose, but let’s also mention “Dust,” which is what these 4×4 performance geegaws will gather in the hands of urbanite owners.

Fortunately, any buyer will appreciate the G-Class’ opulent cabin, and modest exterior changes. For the G 580, that includes a black-capped grille with an icy LED frame. A mildly raised hood clears room for an inverter. Re-profiled A-pillars and air curtain wheel arches look to smooth cinder-block aerodynamics. Most notably, G 580 buyers can choose a squared-off Design Box hung from the rear door, or stick with a traditional spare wheel carrier. The Design Box holds a Level 2 charging cable for hookups at up to 11 kilowatts, with room for odds and ends. DC charging can hit a peak 200 kilowatts, for a 10-to-80 percent refill in 32 minutes: Not as quick as some rivals, but the G 580 is born for home charging in a multi-car garage. 

That obsessive 4×4 focus actually comes back to bite the G 580. A bit like the Hummer EV, Mercedes engineers seem so determined to prove their point off-road, that they compromised on-road performance that will constitute 99.9-percent of the G 580’s daily life.

Despite a 6,801-pound curb-weight handicap, about 1,300 more than a G 550, the electric G dashes to 60 mph in 4.6 seconds. That beats 5.3 seconds for the G 550, and isn’t far off the wicked 4.2-second sprint of the G 63. That’s accompanied (should you choose) by a pseudo-V8 song called G Roar Experience, that’s pretty good by EV Autotune standards. But the sheer mass, tall body, relatively high-mounted battery and soft tuning result in some woozy handling. Compared to either ICE version, there’s excess body roll in corners, and pitch and dive under acceleration and braking. Chuck the G 580 into a fast corner, and there’s an upsetting springboard effect. The primitive solid-axle rear suspension just can’t keep up with the sharper front, and immediately signals its distress. 

In its defense, G 580 buyers won’t be carving corners with Cayennes. The first electric G-Wagen remains swanky, status-y, and quieter than any predecessor. For its intended audience, the merits of electric propulsion will seal the deal. Pricing isn’t set, but expect a G 580 First Edition to hover around $185,000 when it reaches showrooms later this year, versus perhaps $190,000 for the G 63 and $145,000 for a G 550. In other words, a near-loaded G 580 First Edition will cost slightly less than a base-rate AMG model, with more-affordable G 580s to come.

Defying logic, the G-Class has become the world’s ultimate cosplaying SUV. Its outdoorsy talents will mostly be wasted on some the world’s least outdoorsy buyers. Folks for whom “off the beaten path” means strip-mall sushi in Los Angeles. Poke fun if you like, and we certainly will. But I can’t be a hypocrite. From its early gray-market years, I tried to hate the G-Class. Then I drove one, and another, and surrendered to its irresistible design, the undeniable gestalt of the G. Call me shallow. Then give me those dumb-ass refrigerator doors.

[Ed note from Matt even though he didn’t edit this article: Obviously, Lawrence Ulrich is one of the most admired automotive writers in the known universe, having formerly served as the chief auto critic for The New York Times and contributed to MotorTrend, Road & Track, and just about every other place you’ve ever read about cars. We’re excited to have him on the site for the second time. – MH]

Images: Lawrence Ulrich and Mercedes-Benz