Our 325-horsepower, 4.4-liter V-8-engined 545i is the second priciest egg in our comparison frying pan, starting at $56,495, rising to a eye-watering $61,420 fitted out as it is with the $1800 Premium Sound Package, $1250 Active Steering system (now a stand-alone option available independent of the Sport Package, as exemplified here), $1800 nav system, and 75 bucks for satellite-radio prep. Expensive, yes, and, well, still crazy expensive even after living with it for several days. Maybe it's helpful to think of it as a donation to the noble cause of high technology (including such beneficiaries as Valvetronic induction, a six-speed automatic transmission, iDrive, and dual stopping-rate brake lights).
Three of our four car's bodies also exemplify a less evident technological trend beneath their baked paint jobs: the increasing employment of pricier aluminum, that lightweight wonder that makes engineers grin and beancounters steam. Stockholder alert: Free-spending engineers are now making the M45's doors, hood, and trunklid from the more expensive stuff, as well as the 545i's entire front end (both body and structure, 15 percent of the car's structural weight), plus the E500's hood, trunklid, and front fenders. In fact, Mercedes-Benz quotes the composition of the E-Class's structure as 52 percent steel, 37 percent high-strength steel, 10 percent aluminum, and one percent plastic.
Blinking like moles as we leave the barrel room, we finally reemerge into Paso Robles's blazing grape-growing sun, eager to uncork this quartet. To the west, sinewy Old Creek Road will challenge brakes, handling, and horsepower, while Highway 46's long ribbons of pittery-pattery concrete will rattle suspensions, testing ride quality and interior noise. As each car returns from a lap, pens hit notepads as our test team's scribbling begins.
At speed, tire noise is the most prominent component of the Cadillac's interior noise. With the suspension in its sport-oriented Performance mode, the suspension is nicely firm, but impact booms are disturbingly high. In fact, the process of switching between the Touring and Performance settings exemplifies the STS's ambivalence over its sport-sedan mission. Just listen to what you're expected to do: One, stop the car; two, tap through obscurely named display screens; and, eventually, three, sit bewildered until you realize the Performance choice you're looking for is hidden in a drop-down list that requires scrolling before it appears. Is this what Cadillac's learning from its endurance racing program? Also erasing its sport-sedan stripes somewhat is the glacially slow steering response in hairpins and the traction-control system that keeps the performance wick turned down so long after a traumatizing traction loss, you wonder if counseling's in order.
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