More power, same hot bod.
BY ERIK JOHNSON, May 2007
Man, we feel like we’re in junior high again. No, not because of our patchy, stalker-esque facial hair or the fact that we keep outgrowing our clothes. (Although nowadays, it seems we’re outgrowing them
outwards instead of
up.) We feel all of thirteen because we just got finished driving the Mercedes-Benz CLS550, and it just sort of does that to you. Jittery nerves, sweaty palms, dry mouth—we’re in love with that sultry sheetmetal, those curvy flanks, that rakish rear end. Smitten, we tell you.
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