Let me start with a confession. Parting with my Audi S4 (the one with the soulful, Porsche-developed V6) wasn’t easy. That car had character, performance, and a soundtrack I never got tired of. But with a new job came a new reality: a 100-mile daily commute. And as much as I loved the S4, averaging 24mpg while burning through tyres and brake pads wasn’t exactly sustainable.
So, reluctantly, I started the search for something… sensible. Economical. Grown-up. A few spreadsheets later, I found myself signing for a Mercedes A-Class A200d AMG Line Premium. I told myself it was temporary. A stopgap. But the truth is, on paper, it made a strong case.
And to be fair, first impressions were excellent. The A-Class is easily one of the best-looking hatchbacks out there. The AMG Line styling, with its sharp creases, diamond grille and aggressive stance, makes it look far more expensive than it is. It’s a car that turns heads without shouting. The premium vibe continues inside too, with the twin screens, turbine-style vents, ambient lighting, and a design that genuinely impresses – especially if you’ve come from something older or more utilitarian.
But dig a little deeper and it’s not all gloss. Some of the interior plastics (particularly lower down) feel a bit brittle and out of place in an otherwise sleek cabin. And while the MBUX infotainment system is excellent (responsive, sharp, and intuitive), it’s frankly cheeky that you have to pay a subscription to unlock Apple CarPlay or Android Auto. In 2020. In a premium car. Come on, Mercedes.
Performance-wise, the 2.0-litre diesel is more than adequate. With 150bhp, it’s not fast in the traditional sense, but it pulls well, cruises effortlessly, and makes light work of long journeys. The fuel economy was a highlight—over 70mpg on a gentle run wasn’t uncommon, and even with spirited driving, it rarely dipped below 50mpg. For someone commuting 500 miles a week, that quickly becomes a big win.
The automatic gearbox is a little lazy, particularly off the line or when you suddenly need a lower gear. It’s not the sharpest unit, but you learn to anticipate its lag, and it becomes tolerable.
Sadly, the A-Class fell apart (sometimes literally) in one crucial area: ride quality. This AMG Line version comes with ‘lowered comfort suspension’, and on anything but freshly laid tarmac, it’s just not pleasant. On my Norfolk backroads, it was bouncy, underdamped, and soft, with the car frequently scraping its underside on crests and undulations. It felt like the damping hadn’t been properly calibrated for UK roads – especially not for the countryside.
And that, ultimately, was its undoing. For all the things the A-Class got right (style, tech, economy) it was let down by that unpredictable, frustrating ride. I could overlook the sluggish gearbox, the plastic buttons, even the subscription nonsense. But not a suspension setup that made every commute a game of “will it scrape this time?” The final straw came when I drove over a discarded coffee cup (yes, an actual paper cup) and the underside still managed to scrape the exhaust. At that point, I realised I wasn’t just dodging potholes anymore – I was dodging litter. That was the moment I knew: it had to go.
Would I recommend it? Yes – but choose wisely. Avoid the comfort suspension if you live anywhere remotely rural. If your commute is mostly motorway or city-based, it might just be the perfect blend of style, comfort, and efficiency. But for me, it wasn’t built for the kind of roads I had to face every day.
A good car, just not quite the right one.
