The late, great LJK Setright - probably the most famous automotive writer of his era, and certainly the most erudite - used to frequently turn to elegant Latin phrases to the widespread bemusement of those less well educated than himself. At PH none of us got the benefit of a classical education that ran further than Kenneth Williams's "Infamy! Infamy! They've all got it in for me!" yet there is some barely-remembered Latin that perfectly sums up the Mercedes SEC 560 that brings us here this week: ne plus ultra. Or, if you prefer a translation likely to get you thinking of a departure lounge lottery, the best of the best. Because that's what the C126 coupe represented to its parent company, the high watermark of both solidity and build quality, the peak that gave us all those clichés about bank vault construction and bodywork hewn from granite.
The SEC has been high on the listed of targets since Brave Pill began, but the problem has always been finding one the cognoscenti might regard as being sufficiently courageous. Which is why the lockdown bunker rang with a shout of triumph when this one slid down the wire at 56kb/sec: a 195,000-mile 560 SEC that surely even the most fearless would treat with the respect due to a tetchy mafia don.
It's fair to say that by the 1970s, Mercedes was not an adventurous company. The brand's success had been built on both knowing what it did and doing what it knew - repeatedly. The sort of radical thinking of the sort that had brought the world the original space-framed 300 SL and its gullwing doors had dried up, the company concentrating instead on making solid, sensible cars aimed at solid, sensible people. The change was probably best exemplified by the difference between the original SL and the 1971 R107 version, a sports car only in that it frequently took its owners to play golf.
But this was also the era when affluent buyers were developing a taste for large, muscular coupes - and Mercedes didn't have one. The company initially tried to satisfy demand with a two-door version of the entry W123 saloon and also a tin-top version of the SL - the cramped C107 - but neither was a proper rival to the BMW 6 Series. Hence the plan to spin a coupe from the W126-generation S-Class saloon, one that would become the halo model for the whole range.
The S-Class saloon, which arrived in 1979, had the option of both straight-six and even diesel engines in some markets, as well as V8s, the SEC, which followed two years later, only ever came with eight-cylinder power. At launch 3.8-litre and 5.0-litre motors were available, with both featuring the spiffy new fuel injection system that Merc was so proud of it referenced it in the branding. SEC effectively standing for 'Sonderklass Einspritzmotor Coupe'.
The two-door SEC was distinguished by its pillarless side-on profile and the gentle rake of its rear screen, but it also got a wider radiator grille and different headlights to make its specialness obvious in the rear-view mirror of anyone it was bearing down on at speed. Exclusivity was further guaranteed by pricing that was well above the SL, and indeed many true exotics: in 1987 the 500 SEC cost £42,420 - £1200 more than a Ferrari Mondial Qv. For context of where it sat in the market, that was also £16,000 more than Jaguar asked for a Jaguar XJ-S HE.
The mightier and even pricier 560 SEC was introduced when the range got a facelift in 1985, gaining a 300hp version of Merc's mighty 'M117' V8. Being a 1990 car it's likely our Pill has the slightly less potent 279hp catalyzed engine that was introduced later, but even that option was capable of cracking 150mph when new. Contemporary road-testers also praised the big V8 for impressive fuel economy, returning over 20mpg under restrained use.
As the biggest, baddest Merc of its era, the 560 SEC quickly developed a following among those who were basically looking for a ground-based private jet. Famous owners in the UK included Nigel Mansell, who bought a magnificent metallic bronze example in 1987. Nige chose left-hand drive, presumably to make it easier to commute to European Grands Prix, and after a day battling the turbocharged Williams-Honda around a track it must have seemed like an oasis of calm. The exact same SEC 560 was later owned by art critic Brian Sewell, and has subsequently ended up in Merc's UK heritage fleet. Having driven it twice I can confirm it feels pretty much exactly as you'd expect it to - rapid, effortless and impressively hushed at speed, but with more appetite for straights than corners.
Not all SECs were as lucky with their owners, of course. If residual values were a lake in south America and depreciation a pack of ravenous piranhas than any large Merc coupe is the equivalent of a three-legged calf with an open wound. The SEC's fall was a rapid one, and by the early 'noughties they were being traded for banger money, something that had a predictable effect on the care and attention owners were prepared to pay for. The C126's reputation for solidity always bore an important proviso - 'when properly looked after.' The fact they will run for long periods with problems doesn't make them any cheaper to sort out when they do finally break.
Known issues include ticking timing chains, worn camshafts, failed valve stem oil seals and clonking autoboxes. Cars that have been left standing for long periods will often suffer from expensive failure of the fuel injection system's metering head as well. But these risks are all relatively minor compared to the big one, familiar to any Merc from this period - rust. By 'eighties standards they aren't excessively prone to rot, and fight it better than almost all 'nineties and 'noughties Mercs, but after more than three decades all but the most fastidiously well looked-after SECs are likely to have suffered some corrosion. Known grot-spots include the top of the front bulkhead, rear parcel shelf, wings, arches and sills.
Bringing us to our Pill, the cheapest SEC in the classifieds despite having the 5.6-litre engine. The selling dealer reports an impressive amount of care and attention has been lavished on getting it within striking distance of the double-ton, claiming it comes £40,000 worth of receipts - a figure that makes it clear how hefty the bills can be. But the MOT record also reveals the car has suffered from its own battle with rust, emerging from a three-year lay-up last August to fail with excessive corrosion in the lower front structure, as well as worn front suspension ball joints and various electrical maladies.
None of this is a reason to head for the hills; I know from personal experience that even fundamentally solid Mercs from this era can get scary looking fails that are subsequently sorted with a couple of hundred quids' worth of welding. Our Pill has subsequently earned an advisory-free ticket, but the vendor admits it still has some minor bodywork corrosion. The pics also reveal that one of the wheels is peeling, and at least one tyre could politely be described as cheap-and-cheerful.
All this does seem to have been factored into the price, though - which is less than half of what is being asked for some well-polished, lower mileage examples. Indeed the only cheaper examples currently for sale in the UK seem to be in much worse condition, or even outright projects. This one looks eminently usable and ready to go, and even with lockdown ending you could spend many happy hours polishing and preening it - an excellent excuse to Merc from home.
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