The new E Class is a pretty handsome sedan, but you don’t really look at one and think, ‘Now that would look good as a coupe!’ But the designers at Mercedes Benz did just that, and boy were they right. Although, it must be said that the coupe doesn’t really look that much like the sedan – save for perhaps the individual rectangular headlamps that are even more edgy and rakish in this than on its bigger brother.

By itself, the coupe is an extremely striking design, and certainly attracts a lot of attention. It is indeed sleek and low slung with an arrow shaped front end that gives it a decidedly feline appearance. In fact, it’s so slippery that Mercedes claim, with a drag coefficient of just .26, it’s the most aerodynamic series production car in the world today. And you wouldn’t argue with them by looking at it. In fact, you even begin to spot interesting details such as a very discreet lip on the side of the tail lights, which helps air flow smoothly off the rear – thereby reducing the coefficient of drag and improving efficiency. Now, that’s the level of detail that you expect from Mercedes Benz. Proportionally, it is a large car, but the design just works brilliantly and it looks like nothing else on the road. Our test car was in white, which was offset perfectly with all-black when viewed from above – courtesy of the panorama glass roof.

Conversely, the exterior as a whole was perfectly offset by the beautiful maroon leather on the inside. You sit very low in the car, and it immediately feels like a proper sports car. The seats are firm and hold you tightly in place, reaffirming that notion. But this is supposed to be a proper four-seater – and, believe it or not, it is! However, the rear seats are also quite low, and even though the front doors are relatively long, you do have to be somewhat of a contortionist to literally climb in and out. Once in, however, you do realise that this is, in fact, a coupe that seats four adults. Leg room in the rear is adequate, but, even at the rear, the seats are simply too firm. In fact, I’m not sure if long drives would be appreciated by your co-passengers. It’s far from claustrophobic at the back though, thanks to the all-glass roof.

Start the car, and Mercedes provides you with a motorised arm that brings the seatbelt well within your reach – so you won’t pull a back muscle reaching for it, as you may in some technologically inferior coupes. Now, I’m not an advocate for unnecessary technology, I prefer it if the basics are done as well as possible, but the auto belt feeder, as Mercedes refer to is, is a brilliant innovation. Although, once you fasten your seatbelt, it tightens on you as if performing the role of an assassin. Thankfully, after ensuring a tight fit, it relaxes enough to allow you to breathe again. Once recovered, you notice that you sit facing a nice set of analogue gauges – one of which is a large clock in keeping with Mercedes tradition. The center of the speedometer houses a host of information that is accessed through buttons on the steering wheel – with which you can also activate the Attention Assist function that tells you when its time for a coffee break.

At the top of the center console is a high resolution screen that allows you to control the media interface and other functions that are part of the Mercedes Command system – the dial for which is located on central tunnel, perfectly within reach of the driver. The screen has excellent graphics and resolution, and provides a wonderful retroesque display for the radio. And, of course, the E Coupe has iPod connectivity, as well as Bluetooth for your phone. Moreover, the Harman Kardon Logic-7 surround system, with 12 speakers including a sub, and 450 watts of power, sounds deafeningly brilliant.

Get going, and the sporty three-spoke steering wheel further reaffirms the feeling of a driver-oriented automobile. And thankfully it’s a rack-and-pinion system, so it’s far more direct than the recirculating ball mechanism that Mercedes used in their steering systems of yore. It’s also quite light in traffic, but loads up nicely at speed – and quite inconspicuously as well, so as to not feel unnatural. Although, while it is direct, it’s also grossly lacking in feel. Plus, the drivetrain, in comfort mode, gives this car a far greater sense of being the descendent of a luxury sedan than a sports car. The engine feels as though it has deep reserves of power, but these aren’t readily available. You soon realise that this is, in fact, the offspring of an E Class, rather than an almost-there AMG. The 7-speed gearbox is extremely smooth, but it takes its time – especially on kickdown. You can’t really change gears manually, due to the lack of paddles. In true Mercedes fashion, though, you can flick the gear lever from side-to-side to manually affect a gear change, but it doesn’t feel intuitive and engaging.

Engage sport mode, however, and the drivability becomes far more in keeping with the appearance of the Coupe. The engine seems to suddenly come alive, and it feels free revving and torquey. The gear changes are still silky smooth, but they’re also much faster – though not exactly lightning quick. However, what wins you over is the engine. A 3.5 litre, 6 cylinder, direct injection petrol motor that produces in excess of 270 horsepower at 6,000rpm – you just can’t argue with that. And it’s always within its powerband – it responds immediately, even at 1500rpm. There’s very little that compares with pushing a refined, free revving, powerful V6 motor all the way to its redline. And the accompanying soundtrack changes from being muted to deep throated and very satisfying, but still refined. It may not be explosive, but you can’t fault it for a lack of power.

And that power is easily exploited courtesy of a very predictable rear-wheel drive chassis. In fact, my ritual every time I got into the Coupe was to engage Sport, and turn off the ESP. Now, you can turn off the stability program, which restricts torque to wheels when they spin, but traction control is always engaged, which brakes the individual wheels when they spin. Of course, if you’re aggressive enough with the throttle, you can largely overrule traction control. And the chassis of this Merc certainly does allow you to take liberties with your right foot. It rotates perfectly – to the extent that you go looking for a damp patch around a corner where you can plant the throttle and catch a slide. It’s the perfect pick-me-up if that’s required.

The ride, on the other hand, is a little too harsh. While the 255/35 R18 Continental rear tires ensure fantastic road holding, they don’t exactly cushion the ride the way an E Class sedan would. Mind you, on our post-monsoon roads – or moonscape that masquerades as roads – anything other than an SUV is bound to struggle. And, to its credit, the E Coupe never encountered a road it couldn’t traverse – it’s just that the occupants felt almost every bump on the way. The suspension does, however, adjust the shocker damping constantly to suit your driving style, as well as the road conditions. In addition to adaptive damping and ESP, the Merc also has all the other safety systems that you’d expect, such as ABS, Brake Assist, Attention Assist, and Pre-Safe.

I’m convinced that PR is a difficult job. I have some great friends in the PR circus, and we chew fat on a number of random topics at any given time. And, during the conversation, all of them whine, at least once or twice, about their profession. I don’t, but it’s perhaps because I’m not in PR. You see, it’s difficult to market/publicise/advertise something that you’ve been given a brief on through mediums such as e-mail and theoretical product presentations. I’d be confused and zapped too if I were to sell desi ghee, or, for that matter, toothpaste for instance. And now that I think more-and-more about it, I’d be rubbish at selling just about anything at all. So, hats off to all the PR people out there who are trying to sell things that they really have no clue about – I can’t even imagine how you do it.

Selling a motorcycle is a tricky business. Motorcycling, our PR and marketing friends need to understand, is all about a free-spirited life. I don’t want to know about intake air control valves or the rocker arms you’re going on about. I don’t care about the glamorous words describing the looks of a particular machine – essentially because I have eyes. That means I can see. So, I can judge for myself, thank you very much, if your product looks good to me or not.

Visually, as well as far as PR-speak goes, I like what comes out of Italy, and some of the stuff out of America is also pretty tolerable. The Japanese are, however, a little confused by the concept of enjoyment – perhaps understandably so, since their sense of humour is a topic of debate the world over. They are next only to the Germans. But back to bikes, Honda has branded their high-capacity motorcycles as ‘fun’ bikes. But what they give us is an orgy of technical madness. That’s not fun, that’s the opposite. I couldn’t quite understand all the fuss surrounding the CB1000R. I’d seen it in pictures, and it looked just about moderately attractive to me. In fact, I quite disliked it in the pond-weed green colour carried in the media kits. But then I saw it in flesh, and I haven’t taken a breath in the same way since. The CB1000R looks – and I have no other way to describe it – badass (sorry for the language, Ed)! Pictures just don’t do it justice, trust me. But it still doesn’t move you somehow. Even some mechanically pathetic bikes stand apart and tickle you in the right places. But Honda has made the CB1000R just a bit too subtle in my opinion. It’s like having Scarlett Johansson going wild, and drinking herself to the limit and then vomiting on you. You enjoy the initial part – only the initial part.

I respect Honda for taking the environment more seriously than others, but sometimes they overdo things. They’re gung-ho about making their motorcycles eco and quiet – that’s new noise restriction laws for you – but you just can’t build a bike as killer looking as the CB1000R, and then make it so docile and well behaved that it becomes boring. It’s the antichrist of biking philosophy. It’s just wrong. Badass bikes need to be naughty.

Most Japanese manufacturers are a hugely talented lot, but they can be frustrating no less. They have all the technology to make a rocket out of a dull set of wheels, yet they somehow manage to go wrong. The problem is that too many people get involved in one small section of a project and burn the crust black. In recent years, there’ve been numerous failed attempts at making a worthy streetbike. The first model of the Kawasaki Z1000 was a disaster. Yamaha too went wrong with their FZ1. And now we have the Suzuki B-King – whoever styled the bike should be run over by it, if he hasn’t committed suicide as yet that is. Just one look at those Dame Edna glasses at the rear – according to Suzuki they’re exhaust canisters – and you’re sure to start feeling sick.

Italians, on the other hand, just picked up and welded some steel tubes together, requested a striking, well-endowed, scantily clothed girl model to pose for them, and sprinkled the skeleton with some sensuously styled bodywork. A heavy-duty motor was thrown in after that, and a gorgeous naked (bike) was in front of all. Job done!

The trend of naked streetbikes was truly brought into the limelight by – there we go again – the Italians. MV Agusta’s Brutale and Ducati’s Monster were the first proper naked sports motorcycles to offer the lunacy and character of a superbike. But I don’t think it’s necessary to do all the lunacy and character of a superbike in a naked streetbike. It’s simpler than that – a naked should have low-end poke. Bags of it. It’s never happened to me after riding a powerful sportsbike that I’ve climbed down and said, “Ah, such a nice feeling to have 170bhp.” It’s pointless. Having ridden a few big capacity bikes, I can tell you that you are never really going to ride faster than 150km/h. Superbikes – perhaps, but streetbikes or nakeds, absolutely not. And in India, you’d have to be a seriously disturbed discharge from a mental facility to achieve those speeds.

I’ve been disappointed with the Japanese for giving us engines that are on song only at the redline – I’ve always wanted something more from them. I don’t want a naked streetbike with a million horsepower if it doesn’t have low-end torque to help me move happily in traffic. Thankfully, with the CB1000R, Honda has managed to pull it off rather well. The 998cc, in-line four engine is taken from one of the all time classics – the CBR1000RR of ’07. To marry the engine with inherent characteristics of a naked street bike, the CB features a longer stroke engine than the original, for a strong mid-range. It uses 36mm throttle bodies as opposed to ’07 CBR’s 44mm, and the compression ratio is reduced from 12.2:1 to 11.2:1. Modifications have been made to the valves, pistons, transmission, and the engine features single injection for each cylinder (as against CBR1000RR’s two per cylinder).

Despite being a litre-bike, CB’s numbers don’t suggest the outright performance of a superbike, neither does it make the right sort of noise. It’s a bit too controlled and quiet at lower revs and even at full chat, the sound from that gorgeous exhaust isn’t something that acts as a chick-magnet. The CB1000R rides all the way up to its 10,000rpm redline, and, when doing that, it produces a peak power output of 123bhp – down from the 170 of the CBR1000RR it’s taken from. The torque has a very linear curve and is available from as low as 1000 revs all the way up to 8000rpm where it peaks out at 100Nm. The beauty of this engine is its flexibility. It’s as cute and docile as your pet Lhasa Apso when you’re just trundling around town, but one harsh twist of the wrist and the motor transforms itself into a growling and ferocious Rottweiler that’ll butcher you in an instant.

I’m told that the CB1000R will do a zero-to-hundred time of less than 3 seconds. The fastest car in the world – the Bugatti Veyron – too does it in similar time. And that’s a 16-cylinder, 8.0 litre, 1,000 horsepower hypercar – just to put it in perspective. I like to see myself in good health – with all limbs attached. And so, I refrained from hardcore acceleration, lest my arms would’ve bid goodbye to my torso. I just couldn’t muster up enough nerve to try and challenge the claimed figure for the CB. But the way this thing pulls, I don’t doubt that number either. The max that I saw on the speedo was 170km/h before I ran out of road – thank God for that! Being a naked bike and not wearing a screen upfront has its own share of drawbacks. There’s so much wind resistance that although the bike has all the power to shoot past 200 clicks, you’re not keen to experience it because of the sheer force with which Mother Nature holds you back. If I’d pressed on, I’d be running in today while the CB would be in the middle of next week!

Honda has engineered a brilliant chassis. The engine is great – perhaps not the track-focussed kind – but potent nevertheless. But still, if you stupidly think of hitting the racetrack on the CB, you’d be left with mixed emotions. The single-backbone, cast aluminum frame uses 43mm fully-adjustable inverted Showa HMAS forks allied with the preload and rebound adjustable monoshock. The entire combination works brilliantly to provide a supremely stable ride on city roads. On the track, it will feel soft and mushy. The steering, too, felt a little less aggressive. It’s a classic setup – 25 degree rake and 4 inches of trail – but it still felt twitchy. I think it was more to do with the leverage by the wide handlebars that echo of the 80s superbike steering geometry. Braking – quite fantastic for everyday use, mind you – wasn’t up to scratch when throwing the bike around. I encountered one particularly nervous moment when the rear locked up while I was approaching a wall at an alarmingly fast rate. Hairy!

How should I sum this bike up? The CB1000R is a nuclear bomb wrapped as a gift item. It’s a puppy in town and hysterically fast on open roads. Its fine for limited riding, but the saddle isn’t a comfortable place to do long distances. It’s not cool enough for your female chum riding pillion. It’s eternally and catastrophically thirsty for fuel. It’s a thousand cee cees, for crying out loud, but still doesn’t sound like one. But all that set aside, what I love about the CB1000R is that it’s something that has set the right tone for Honda – for Japanese manufacturers, in general – when it comes to naked bikes. It’s doesn’t have the ‘whatcha-looking-at’ attitude of a WWE wrestler, but an air of silent confidence of a gentleman Ninja (Ninja and Honda don’t gel – oops!). You just know that you wouldn’t want to pick a fight with it.

What you’re buying with each of these machines is novelty, exclusivity, and a lot of attention. But that’s not all because you also get fantastic machines to pilot and own as well. They really do work.

Buy the E Coupe simply for the way it looks. Even if it drove like an E Class gone wrong, you’d forgive it for its stunning lines. But you don’t have to – because, while it’s not perfect, it can put a smile on your face. Plus, it really is a two-door coupe that can seat four adults without having to amputate the legs of those in the rear.

On the other hand, you may not buy the BMW for the way it looks, but you will most certainly fall for it once inside. BMW really have managed to take some of the best features from their entire range of cars and blend them together in the GT. It’s immensely comfortable, while also being amazingly refined and capable.

The Honda CB1000R also has both of those characteristics in spades, but perhaps to a fault. It simply doesn’t have enough drama. But make no mistake about the fact that it is stupendously fast – and then some.

Perhaps terming this as the ‘Democratization of Niche,’ is a stretch, but if the auto industry can continue to display the creativity and impeccable execution that they’ve done with these niche machines, then we clearly have a lot more to look forward to in future.