The Mercedes-Benz G-Class, or G-Wagen as it’s affectionately known (short for Geländewagen, meaning cross-country vehicle), is an icon. While many believe its origins lie solely with the German military, the story is a bit more nuanced. In the early 1970s, the Shah of Iran, a significant shareholder in Mercedes-Benz at the time, suggested – perhaps more accurately, commissioned – the development of this rugged vehicle. While initially intended for military use, the German armed forces did adopt the G-Wagen, paving the way for its eventual transition into civilian life and luxury status.
Europeans were quick to embrace the G-Wagen as a symbol of wealth and fashion in the 1980s. However, across the Atlantic, Americans had to wait. For years, the G-Wagen was a rare sight in the US, primarily imported by companies like Europa in New Mexico for affluent communities like Aspen. Mercedes-Benz was slow to officially bring the G-Wagen to the American market, but finally, in 2002, the four-door G500 arrived stateside. It quickly became the ultimate status symbol, especially among those seeking to make a bold statement.
The 2002 Mercedes G500, with its boxy silhouette and undeniable presence, became a favorite amongst celebrities and those wanting to project an image of success. From basketball stars to fashion icons, the G500 transcended its utilitarian roots to become a luxury statement. Mercedes-Benz certainly wasn’t complaining; by 2002, the development costs were long recouped, making each G500 sold a highly profitable venture. It’s a testament to its enduring design that the G-Wagen, even in its 2002 G500 iteration, remains instantly recognizable and highly sought after.
Why the G500 Appeal? My Personal Confession
So, why would someone like me, a self-proclaimed car enthusiast, find myself drawn to a 2002 Mercedes G500? The honest truth is, a part of me thought it would make me look cool. Looking back, this is a little embarrassing to admit. Instead of cool, one former colleague aptly described my G500 ownership as making me look “like a total douchebag.” Nevertheless, at the time, the allure was strong. It felt like making a statement, perhaps akin to a child wearing a superhero cape on school picture day.
Beyond the questionable pursuit of coolness, there were two somewhat more practical reasons for my 2002 G500 purchase. Firstly, I lived in Atlanta. Now, Atlanta isn’t exactly known for blizzards. Snowfall is a rare occurrence, averaging around 0.1 inches per year. However, there was one year where Atlanta experienced a significant snowfall. My Porsche, ill-equipped for such conditions, left me stranded. Coupled with the city’s seemingly nonexistent snowplow fleet, I was housebound for days. Driven by cabin fever and a desire for winter driving preparedness, I bought the G500 in early December, convinced that this year would be different.
The arguably most legitimate reason for choosing the 2002 G500 was its legendary off-road prowess. The G-Wagen boasts three locking differentials, making it incredibly capable in challenging terrains. Most owners might only experience this capability when mounting a curb at the local coffee shop, but I envisioned grander adventures. Having previously enjoyed off-roading with an older Land Cruiser, I was eager to explore the G500’s capabilities in more demanding environments. The 2002 Mercedes G500 represented the pinnacle of off-road engineering in my mind, even if its typical habitat was more likely Beverly Hills than the Rubicon Trail.
Exterior Styling: Form Follows Function (and a File Cabinet)
The design of the G-Wagen, and specifically the 2002 Mercedes G500, is undeniably polarizing. Whether you find it aesthetically pleasing largely depends on your appreciation for the visual appeal of a file cabinet. The G-Wagen’s design ethos is rooted in functionality, resulting in a distinctly boxy shape characterized by right angles and prominent door handles. Given the G-Wagen’s long history, it’s even possible that the file cabinet design took inspiration from the vehicle itself!
However, amidst its utilitarian form, there are exterior elements of the 2002 G500 that I genuinely appreciate. One is the satisfyingly solid sound of the doors closing. It’s a reassuring “thunk” that conveys robustness and quality, reminiscent of a job well done, whether it’s for military operations or simply arriving in style for a shopping trip.
Another design highlight is the spare tire cover. Unlike the flimsy canvas or cheap plastic covers often found on other SUVs, the G500 features a substantial, body-colored metal cover. Embossed with “Mercedes-Benz” in elegant lettering, it provides a subtle touch of luxury and a bit of reading material for those stuck in traffic behind you – as they certainly won’t be able to see over you.
Perhaps the most distinctive and charming exterior feature of the 2002 G500 is the placement of the front turn signals. Instead of being integrated into the headlights, they are proudly mounted atop the front fenders. This design choice serves as a constant reminder of the G-Wagen’s hardcore, utilitarian origins, suggesting that turn signals were almost an afterthought. On the AMG versions of the G-Wagen, these turn signals are even adorned with tiny brush guards, a feature as practically useful as bringing a baseball glove to a professional baseball game. Yet, as with the baseball glove analogy, AMG owners might argue, “you never know when you might need it.”
Stepping Inside: A Surprisingly Civilized Military Machine
Despite its overtly militaristic exterior, the interior of the 2002 Mercedes G500 is surprisingly refined. Once you’ve accomplished the somewhat challenging climb into the cabin – shorter individuals might require a running start – you could easily believe you were inside any other Mercedes-Benz of the era. And, of course, you are rewarded with that signature, reassuring door latch sound.
However, vestiges of its military heritage do remain within the cabin. The grab handle on the passenger side dashboard, for instance, is so robustly mounted it feels like a structural component of the vehicle. Similarly, the turn signal stalk requires a firm push, demanding the strength one might expect from a German soldier. Though, in reality, the robust turn signal stalk is largely a non-issue, as many G-Wagen drivers seem to view turn signal usage as optional anyway.
Mercedes-Benz did make some attempts to soften the military aesthetic for civilian versions of the G-Wagen, including the 2002 G500. For example, the aforementioned grab handle is adorned with a strip of faux wood trim. A quaint touch of civilian luxury attempting to temper the rugged functionality.
Behind the Wheel: An Exercise in Controlled Terror (and Thirst)
Driving a 2002 Mercedes G500 is an experience unlike many others. It’s a unique blend of luxury and agricultural machinery, and arguably one of the more challenging daily driving experiences, even for the affluent. Let’s address the elephant in the room – or rather, the fuel tank – fuel economy. But beyond that, the handling and acceleration also contribute to the G500’s distinctive driving character. However, the most unnerving aspect is the sheer terror induced by its vertical side windows.
Here’s a typical scenario: you’re driving in the middle lane and intend to merge to the right. Simultaneously, a car is overtaking you on the left. In most vehicles, this is a routine maneuver. In a 2002 G500, it becomes a moment of mild panic. The vertical side windows create reflections, causing you to see the overtaking car on your passenger side window. Suddenly, spatial awareness dissolves. You lose track of where the passing car actually is, and who is passing you. All you can do is hope the situation resolves itself without requiring any drastic actions, like, heaven forbid, using a turn signal.
And resolve itself it will, primarily because you’ll soon need to stop for fuel. The G-Wagen’s abysmal fuel economy is legendary, and for good reason. Two main factors contribute to this thirst. Firstly, its aerodynamic profile is akin to the aforementioned file cabinet, resulting in significant wind resistance. Secondly, it weighs approximately as much as a small country. The 2002 G500’s curb weight is nearly triple that of the Lotus I owned prior.
Surprisingly, the weight isn’t as detrimental on winding roads as one might expect. In fact, I was genuinely surprised to find the G500 reasonably maneuverable in most driving situations. Initially, I anticipated handling comparable to a houseboat or perhaps a vintage Chrysler. Instead, it steers more like a large E-Class sedan. While that might not sound like high praise in all contexts, for a vehicle designed with such off-road focus, it’s remarkably competent on pavement.
The G500’s weight becomes more of an issue in straight-line driving, particularly at speeds above 35 mph. The sheer momentum and mass of the vehicle demand a heightened sense of personal responsibility. If a pedestrian were to step into your path, the outcome would likely be tragic. Even in car-to-car scenarios, the G500’s weight disadvantage is significant, and the braking system feels inadequate for its mass.
Downhill driving in the 2002 G500 is particularly unnerving. It gathers speed rapidly, as if the throttle is partially engaged. The AMG versions, with their added performance, likely exacerbate these characteristics, combining poor visibility, immense weight, limited braking, and sports car acceleration. But at least they have those stylish brush guards for the turn signals.
Verdict: Icon or Impracticality?
I understand the allure of the G-Wagen. The 2002 Mercedes G500, like all G-Wagens, projects an image of invincibility, ruggedness, and exclusivity. It seems ready for any challenge, it’s undeniably distinctive, and it carries an undeniable “cool” factor. However, after owning a 2002 G500, I can confidently debunk some of these myths.
Firstly, “ready for anything” is an exaggeration. My G500, despite its relatively young age at the time, originated from Boston and suffered from significant undercarriage rust. It resembled a relic recovered from the Titanic rather than a capable off-road machine. Before any serious off-road adventures could even be considered, I had to sell it to CarMax, where it likely continued its journey towards disintegration.
Beyond rust concerns, G-Wagens, including the 2002 model, can be surprisingly fragile in certain aspects. Window regulators seem to have a predetermined lifespan of about eleven weeks, with replacements costing a small fortune. The door locks operate with the finesse of a Land Rover product. And any off-road excursion is accompanied by the constant anxiety of potentially breaking an obscure component that will require an expensive, specially ordered part from Germany. However, it’s worth noting that these fragility concerns are less applicable to the older, pre-luxury G-Wagens, which truly could withstand almost anything, perhaps even Polish terrain.
The notion that the 2002 Mercedes G500 makes you look cool is also debatable, at least in my experience. In fact, driving the G500 made me more self-conscious than any other vehicle I’ve owned. If your goal is to project an image of a wealthy and perhaps slightly arrogant individual, the G500 might be effective. But for me, the G500’s image felt misaligned with my personality.
Ultimately, your experience with a 2002 Mercedes G500 may differ from mine. As with any vehicle, individual mileage may vary, in terms of both experience and reliability. However, when it comes to fuel mileage, variation is unlikely. It will consistently be, shall we say, dismal.
Doug DeMuro operates PlaysWithCars.com. He’s owned an E63 AMG wagon, road-tripped across the US in a Lotus without air conditioning, and posted a six-minute lap time on the Circuit de Monaco in a rented Ford Fiesta. One year after becoming Porsche Cars North America’s youngest manager, he quit to become a writer. His parents are very disappointed.
