Mean streets

Above: Chrysler 300c Touring

Above: Interior

If I had a pound for every time I had been disappointed with the styling of a new car, I wouldn’t have to be writing this for a living. Every time a manufacturer throws out another conservatively-penned, soft-edged four-door Tedium for people who buy grey things, it becomes increasingly obvious that somebody in a meeting got scared and wussed out.

Frankly, it hardly matters if the Chrysler 300C is a good car or not – it’s one of those Big Lessons, like Colin Chapman putting an engine behind the driver or Rickenbacker deciding to electrify a guitar. Cars haven’t got to look boring.

As you can see, the 300C Touring ain’t a pretty car. At five metres long, with a low roofline and a grill like an angry Bentley, its styling has all the delicacy and finesse of a lager-fuelled east-end bar brawl. It’s magnificent.

Sense of security
The high waistline and low roofline give you a real sense of security, but to the detriment of windscreen height; flip the sun visor down and it does indeed block out any nuisance solar activity, as well as buildings, trees and perhaps more crucially, the road.

Still, you won’t mind, because inside is more standard kit than anyone else even comes close to offering. Heated electric leather seats, tyre pressure monitors, parking sensors, Bi-xenon headlights and rain-sensing wipers are all standard; the only extra I’d advise optioning is the Driver’s Pack, which adds Sat Nav and a six-disc cd changer.

The 300C is styled with the delicacy and finesse of an East End bar brawl

It’s a comfortable place to be; the Sat Nav works well despite fiddly controls, the climate is altered via traditional dials instead of nightmarish touch screens and the cruise control behaves itself. The switchgear and plastics are of a high quality, and the soft green instrumentation is easy on the eye at night. Space in the back is plentiful, and the long tailgate aperture makes loading large objects into the ample boot a doddle.

Of the three versions available, Chrysler estimates that 75 per cent of these sold will be this diesel model. Running a 3.0-litre V6, it will hit 60 in a distinctly rapid 7.8 seconds and, given the space, reach 136mph before its barn-like front stops it from accelerating any further. It’s no slouch then.

Around town, the smooth six-cylinder engine is near silent and once up to speed you can’t hear it at all. Only a decisive push on the throttle will prompt an audible note, and even then it doesn’t sound like a diesel – kickdown is immediate and powerful.

Positive and sharp
The 300C uses Mercedes’ five-speed auto transmission instead of the new seven-speed unit, but such is the torque of its engine the extra gears would be largely unnecessary. On the motorway it rides with comfort and refinement; throw it down a b-road and the rack and pinion steering is positive and sharp, with well-controlled body roll and understeer. For a weighty car, it’s certainly not boring to drive – the brakes are sharp and you can feel exactly what they’re doing through the pedal. Economy is pretty good too, given the car’s hefty weight; drive it gently and you’ll get well over 30mpg. It’s not class-leading, but it’s definitely respectable.

And so we come to the price. The Touring CRD starts at £27,275 - add the Drivers Pack and it’ll still come in enough under £30k for you to buy a plane ticket to Chicago to learn how to become a real gangster. It’d like that.

Drawing on the resources and knowledge of Mercedes-Benz, the 300C Touring looks better, has more presence, is more exclusive and costs less than all of its rivals.

Every time you walked out of your house and saw it beating up your neighbour’s cars and taking their lunch money, it’d make you smile – if Al Capone had to take his family on holiday, I’d like to think he’d choose one of these.

ENGINE: 3.0 V6 diesel

PERFORMANCE: 0-60 7.8sec, 136mph

ECONOMY: 34.9 (combined)

PRICE: from £27,275

OUR PICK: This one, with drivers pack

VERDICT: As subtle as a bank robbery, well priced, economical and fast.

Words by Michael Palmer, pictures by Matthew Richardson