Dan Trent: Mercedes 220SEb cabriolet – the ultimate in summer soft‑top waft

If you’re following the official line the four-seater cabriolets of the 50s and 60s are members of the S-Class family. But the Mercedes range of that era was less clearly defined than it is now. I’ll confess I am a bit of a Mercedes geek (that’s the polite version) and could prattle on at length about why I believe the 1961 220SEb Cabriolet to be a true influence on the E400 Cabriolet I’ve just been driving. Just take my word for it and spare us all the deep-dive into Mercedes nomenclature!

Because I’d rather talk about my love for these cars. Now my usual preferences are toward the sporty end of the spectrum. But I’ve got a bit of an uncharacteristic soft spot for big, wafty four-seater Mercedes cabriolets. None of them – up to and including the new one – are truly performance models. Far from it. These are opulent cars, true to Mercedes core values of restrained elegance and technical innovation. 

Suitably fired up I was off into the classifieds to try and find where 220SEb prices are now. Accepted wisdom has it this model is (all things relative) the least desirable of a range of coupes and cabriolets that survived for a whole decade in the Mercedes model line-up. Curiously they outlived the ‘Fintail’ saloons on which they were based by some margin, the restrained Paul Bracq-designed lines more timeless than the fast-dated and American inspired fins of the saloons. 

These days the money chases the later V8-powered 280SE 3.5 versions, these now serious six-figure classics while the true aficionados regard the rarer, air-sprung 300SE as the true pinnacle of the range. On paper the original 220SEb with its mere 118bhp 2.2-litre engine sounds a bit underwhelming. That it’s anything but goes to prove how little the stats tell you about a car’s true character. 

That fuel-injected straight-six may have its work cut but it’s such a sweet engine you don’t mind. I’ve driven them in open-top and coupe form and with the spindly, ball-topped four-speed manual they’re just a delight. The engine is beautifully smooth, cultured and perfectly adequate for making the kind of stately progress a car of this nature encourages. And I love the interior too, the broad expanse of wood and chrome lovely to look at while the springy, leather-clad armchairs up front and sofa in the back are suitably plush. As a sociable way for four people to soak up the sunshine on the way to a nice country pub, I can think of little better. Independent suspension and disc brakes up front mean they go and stop far better than the old-fashioned styling would suggest too.  

And I’ve found one coming up for auction. It’s a 1963 UK-supplied car kept by the same family for over 50 years, the flat green and colour-coded hubcaps with chromed stars in the centre the embodiment of period cool in my book. A car like this would obviously require expert inspection before committing the £60,000 (plus fees) of the upper estimate. And a realistic approach to ongoing costs and potential restoration. But when you consider what 280SE 3.5s go for it seems like a relative bargain. Going once, going twice…

Images courtesy of Silverstone Auctions