Two hours into our five-day adventure and things are starting to go wrong.

The drive to Wellington from our Manawatu home has gone smoothly. The forecast poor weather seems to have blown through the previous night. When we arrive at the quayside, the sun's out, the sky's blue and while there are whitecaps out there, it really doesn't seem so bad. And it isn't ... in the harbour.

Out in Cook's Strait, a different story. There gale-force winds have whipped up a sub-division load of house-sized waves. So the 2.05pm sailing is, we are advised, to now leave at 4.15pm. Hopefully.

Mrs B's none too pleased. The prospect of smacking through 3.5-metre watery walls in the smallest, oldest vessel in the InterIslander fleet does not fill her with joy.

But that's not the real issue. The delay is also jeopardising tonight's stay in a luxury lodge and a dinner date with a Kaikoura cray. See, while this trip is based around an old mate's birthday in Ashburton, we've started out two days early, on Thursday, because it's our wedding anniversary.

I've booked up a night in swanky Hapuku Lodge on the Kaikoura coast, complete with the local delicacy for dinner. Pricey, yes - dinner alone is $130 each - but, hey, it's cheaper than jewellery and at least it's something I also get to enjoy. But, at this rate, we won't be there before 9pm. Will chef wait?

The irony about the situation is that we're travelling in a car that's adept at everything but driving on water.

The E-Class is the model that embodies Mercedes-Benz's aspirations as the car of choice for middle-ranking executives, and it presents particularly well in V8 coupe form.

The drama at this level is both visual, with a sharply-creased and dramatically haunched two-door form, and visceral, with the range's top dog 5.5-litre mill producing 285kW and 530Nm, 0-100kmh in 5.2 seconds and a top speed well beyond any traffic cop's humour level. All delivered at a creamy rumble with a hint of snarl at full noise.

A $174,500 outlay also delivers smartly styled panels, leather, nine airbags, climate control, intelligent cruise control and all manner of techy cleverness. Somehow I doubt five days is enough to sort every secret but we'll give it a go.

It has an AMG dress kit, which includes 18-inch rims, as standard along with a panoramic glass roof, Harmon Kardon Logic 7 audio, fantastic sports seats and, apparently, a TV tuner, though I couldn't get that to go.

As expected, you don't need to turn the key, as it's fitted with a keyless-go system that uses an engine starter button to fire life into it. Press another button, the one marked Sport, and the suspension, gearing and throttle response are also honed. I've hooked up my phone and set the our first night accommodation into the sat nav.

But these functions are mere entrees. This level of E majors on safety, passive and active.

Standard fitment on all models is an attention assist system and a high beam assistance system that adjusts the range of your headlamps according to oncoming vehicles. Or vehicles travelling ahead.

Cost optional tech, not fitted to our vehicle, includes lane departure and blind spot warning systems and even night vision with pedestrian recognition abilities. It's all much smarter than you or I.

The function set to immediately make this long-distance drive even more of a doddle is the intelligent cruise control that uses two radars to monitor the closing speed to the car ahead and recognises potential nose to tail accidents up to 2.6 seconds before they occur, applying up to 40 percent braking force to help avoid a collision.

On the run to Wellington, I've discovered this works a treat. The car will automatically - but generally, very gently - apply the brakes when sensing it's getting too close to the car ahead, right down to a full stop (calmly or in an emergency braking situation).

Sounds like it's watching my every move? Well, that attention assist setup certainly is. It monitors 70 parameters of driver inputs (steering reactions, throttle applications, braking, lane discipline, etc) to determine whether or not driver fatigue is setting in. If the computer calculates that there is increasingly erratic driving behaviour, it will flash up a warning icon (a coffee cup) on the dash to let the driver know they need to take a break. This icon was showing without five minutes of me picking up the car. I'm feeling fine, so does it know something I don't?

I guess I could argue that the coupe was chosen for this trip on its sophisticated safety systems alone, but that'd be fibbing. Nah, I've chosen it over a Subaru Outback and our own Ford Ranger ute because it's much more impressive to roll up to my birthday mate's place in a Merc. Dave's a big car nut. He's going to love it.

Anyway, the voyage turns out okay. The worst seas are encountered right outside the harbour, where the wave force causes huge shuddering impacts, but once we're into the lee of the South Island, then the sounds proper, it's a much quieter sailing. Still, for a lot of passengers, it's been a sickening experience.

By happy chance, the Merc is among the first to disembark, so from Blenheim on we've a clear road to the lodge. The co-pilot's happy too, as a quick call to manager Emile on the in-car phone confirms he and chef Sammy are delighted to keep the kitchen open, even though we're the sole guests dining in tonight.

By 9.30pm we're tucking into a superb crayfish dinner, perfectly accompanied by a 2007 Neudorf chardonnay. Fantastic meal, fantastic service. Mrs B couldn't be happier.

Day Two: Sometimes, says the wife, you just have to splash out a little, hang the expense. She tells me this from her new favourite place, a mega-sized spa bath, one of the amenities of our top-shelf Treehouse apartment at Hapuku.

Like I say, this is one of the more expensive hotel rooms I've ever had to pay for, and with dinner and drinks thrown in, my wallet has become more than $1000 lighter. But, gee, no-one could say they've been short-changed by the experience. The food, the personal service, the quality of the rooms, the stunning view - all five-star plus.

We're really in no hurry to leave, and when we do it's not to go far. Just a 10 minute run to Kaikoura's mid-town heliport, when I've arranged for Carol to join four others on a whale-watch chopper flight. Unfortunately, it's grounded, by our choice. The pilot says there's just one whale out there are the moment, and it has so far eluded four flights this morning.

We figure the cost of a sight-seeing flight in which she will very likely sight only the sea will be better spent on lunch and product at Pegasus Bay winery, Waipara, so I set the sat-nav and cruise control accordingly.

The Kaikoura coast stretch of SH1 is one of this country's finest roads, but perhaps too distracting for the driver of a Nissan ute who provides an excellent test for distronic-plus adaptive cruise when blindly drives out of an ocean-side layby directly into our path. I react swiftly, but in all probability the Merc's electronics are onto the stoppers before even I am. Stuttgart probably saved our lives at that moment.

By the time we've done the lunch and the wine-tasting - well, that's Carol's job for today, not mine - at Pegasus Bay ... well, that's three hours taken care off. I've also got to rearrange the boot contents to make room for a case wine. Well, who can resist one of NZ's best Rieslings (not to mention the chardy, the pinot and the cab merlot)?

Before filling the boot, I've had the sobering experience of a first refuel of the car, spurred by the low fuel warning coming up after 460kms' driving. I guess that's not too bad, the fuel average is 11.5 litres per 100km since leaving home, and the spirited run down to dinner probably hurt it a little. Still, it's tough to put $104 worth of 95 into the tank, knowing I'll be doing the same if not tomorrow, then certainly the next day.

We're now heading to Hanmer Springs, for an evening hot swim and an easy night in front of the tele watching Hawke's Bay trounce Canterbury in their Super 14 semi. Or not, as it happens.

Carol's booked us into a Braemar Lodge, a small hotel overlooking town. I recall it from a visit four years ago on a Jeep launch as a homely place, so the sight of an ultra-modern 24-room facility is surprising. This is the 'new' place, open only since last December, and the only bit left of the old is the magnificent stone fireplace in the guest lounge.

Day three: A second run through Weka Pass confirms how superb the car feels on wending, open country roads, but also reinforces that the Comfort mode is less satisfactory even on good surfaces. The car is hardly a wallower in the softest setting, yet it also lacks the kind of incisiveness you'd wish for. So, again, as soon as we're clear of the 2km gravel stretch that links Braemar to the outside world, I'm jabbing that Sport button.

On issues of comfort, too, the seats are proving excellent. With more than 500kms now under its tyres since our trip began, neither of us has had cause to complain about any level of discomfort.
 
Adjusting the three-memory seats takes a little effort, since it is more than just a matter of prodding buttons mounded on the door trim. Adjusting the cushion bolstering provided by air bladders via a bank of rotary dials sandwiched between the seat and the transmission tunnel to the left. It's not the most elegant, or easily-reached, of solutions should suit all manner of body shapes. One other point of interest: The seats have both heating and cooling functions, but it seems both can be operated simultaneously. Um ...

The sat-nav, or at least the mapping software, copped criticism after it failed to locate the road to Braemer yesterday, despite said route plainly showing on screen when we turn into it.

But all is forgiven today after it directs us perfectly well to what must be one of Christchurch's smallest inner-city lanes for a lunch appointment with fellow motoring writer Brian Cowan and his wife, Kath, at a favourite haunt.

One of Christchurch's well-kept secrets is the little triangle bounded by High, Madras and Lichfield Streets and bisected by Poplar and Ash Lanes. A few years ago the area looked ripe for wholesale demolition, but sympathetic redevelopment has seen it turned into a precinct of pubs, restaurants and intriguing shops mixed with inner-city living - a gentler and more quirky alternative to the Strip along the Avon River.

A foundation member of the area's revival was the Twisted Hop, set up by a couple of English ex-pats who mourned the lack of a pub in Christchurch that sold beer in the British tradition. Four excellent beers are brewed on site and dispensed in the classic manner, through hand pumps and at a warm 10 degrees. Lovers of ice-cold lagers needn't despair, for the Hop carries a full range of local and imported beers and wines as well.

Among the several restaurants in the Poplar Lane area is Mitchelli's, a bustling family-run business styled on an authentic Italian delicatessen. The cafŽ menu is simple, but the food delicious and keenly-priced, while the deli stocks a variety of tempting products to take home.

Again, it's hard to tear ourselves away ....


Day four and five: Birthday boy Dave built the engine that took James Hunt's McLaren M23 to his championship-clinching podium finish at Suzuka in 1976.

Johnny was a mechanic for Ken Tyrrell. Hedley runs a chain of engine rebuilding shops in Aus and here. Barry is a mate from car club days and Frank is as well known for his own motorsport exploits as for those of his son, Paul Radisich.

These boys know their cars, and though they guffaw in slight disbelief at the price of entry, they all can appreciate much of what the E500 represents. Being spannermen, I'm not surprised when they all want to poke their heads under the bonnet first, and only later feel compelled to discuss styling that, we all agree, is quite formal for a sporting model. I explain elements such as the slightly odd kicker line above the rear haunches is to provide a hint of the heritage of Benz's long-running brand icon.

One thing we all agree on is how appropriate it seems to bring a Mercedes to a party for a bloke who worked for McLaren, on the very morning that Lewis Hamilton scores his final pole of the season, at the $38 billion Yas circuit.

Coming for a ride around rural roads near his Tinwald farm, Dave is smitten by the engine's urge, of course, but also comments favourably of the car's dual personality. In Sport and with the seven-speed auto in manual gear selection mode, using the handy steering-wheel-mounted paddles for gear changes, it's a firebrand with a deep baritone soundtrack. In Comfort and left in Drive, regardless of those fat tyres, it wafts along in more regal style.

Challenging corners are rare in this part of the land - heck, you won't even find a hill within 10kms of his place - so it's left to me to describe how I noticed how the weight of the V8 between the front wheels on winding roads.

Still, he can understand why it's been a great choice for this drive. For a big car, it simply devours the miles in quiet comfort, with very little wind rustle, while the transmission offers unfailingly smooth cog swaps and is incredibly intuitive to differing driving styles.

The only jarring note, that all who spot it feel compelled to comment on, is that foot pedal 'hand' brake, which is released with a clunk by pulling a flimsy-feeling plastic catch release near your right knee. It seems such an old-school touch in an otherwise high-tech device.

The one example of techo trickery I'd love to demonstrate to the boys is that an automated high-beam system that senses other vehicles and automatically adjusts the beam accordingly, gradually shifting between high and low. It worked particularly well heading down to Kaikoura the other night, not being caught out even when confronting another car on a blind bend (or mid-crest). It does seem a bit less useful in urban settings, where bright lights keep the xenons on low beam almost constantly, but even then the spread is impressive.

General concensus from the locals that the run back to Picton to catch our 1pm sailing will, in Monday morning traffic, be a five-hour run sees us out of out Timaru motel precisely at 6am. And in the ferry queue with almost an hour to spare.

Still, I was right in figuring a dawn start would beat the Christchurch traffic (it is) and will give us time for a brekkie break in Amberley. It does, and I'd like to congratulate the folks at CafŽ Spoon for their French Toast.

A bunch of low-coach and, apparently, mirror-less horse transporters heading to the races at Kaikoura cause big traffic bunch ups through the Hunderleys, but once we're clear of the big diesel chuggers - and the car drivers who would prefer to meekly suck up sooty exhausts than dare overtake - then it's another great run up the coastline.

Getting stuck in the traffic is a workout for the distronic. A light in the shae of a warning triangle that flashes up when you get too close for the sensors' comfort is shining very often; I even get the 'collision imminent' beep during one cut 'n thrust overtake.

It's been easy to settle into the trip's longest run. The sport driving position delivered by the low-mounted seat gets a big tick - and is requisite for a tall driver, as headroom with the sunroof is snug. Settling in is made easier as the seatbelts are presented on startup by motorized arms.

The instrumentation no longer presents any particular difficulty. It's become second nature to thumb scroll through the main display to keep progressive check on the fuel burn and remaining range, while the iPod integration presented no difficulty once I'd twigged that only the volume setting is on the steering wheel, while other functions work through the main centre console display.

The large analogue clock presented in one of the three main dials is a historic throwback that's unnecessary. Time again, I find it's easier to simply refer to the much more modest digital presentation on the main computer screen.

On the whole, though, Benz has done a superb job of mixing functionality with style in the E's cabin. Brushed alloy is used sparingly but with good effect to break up what is a dark, angular dash.

It feels suitably solid, too, and the smaller things that demonstrate the E-Class's safety credentials provide the right level of reassurance. When you clip the seatbelt in to the buckle, an electric motor gently tightens the belt over your shoulder. In the rear the vehicle measures the amount of seatbelt you use and makes an estimate of your weight, using the information to better protect you in a crash.

All in all, then, the fact that, as with the CLK, it is more or less a blend of C-class and E-class components under the skin, is of no negative consequence. In The coupe is a highly accomplished luxury car; easy to live with and rewarding when the time is right. There's not been a moment during the 21 hours', 13 minutes of driving that I have not disliked this car.

Even my concerns about the fuel burn have eased. By the time we reach home, the average burn for the entire 1480km journey is 10.3 litres per 100km. That's good for any V8, but the computer reveals a final surprise: That last long run home, a 589km run at a steady-ish 100kmh, has delivered a 9.6L/100km average.

Given it's also the only engine in the launch line-up not to feature BlueEfficiency badges, that's better than good. I could live with that.

What this means to you: Drives the way a Mercedes should: relaxed but refined, athletic and accurate.