2015 Mercedes-Benz F015 Luxury In Motion Concept Shows The Value Of Enterprise

AN INTERIOR where anyone can sit anywhere, and where anyone can drive: this is the potential of autonomous driving. The car avoids accidents, so one need not wear a seatbelt. If you do have an accident, intelligent airbags inflate where required. The steering wheel is detachable, and can be passed from person to person to take control. Dashboards become less complex, buttons are fewer and screens are irrelevant because we all carry on our own device. Materials and quality and customization become even more important. It is a relaxing, open place to spend time and enjoy the company of others or the peace of solitude.  Mercedes hasn't gone quite that far with their latest concept, but in producing the F015 they have made a memorable start. 


Here's the message in two steps: fat seats suggest luxury; seats facing each other implies autonomous driving. And now Mercedes owns the image of luxurious autonomous travel. Nevermind that the rest of the interior looks like a set from Star Trek (screens do not an interior make), in terms of communicating a message the Mercedes is faultless. 

Faults are saved for the exterior instead, and here one sees the challenge designers face in providing an attractive shape while providing head-room over rear-facing front seats. It would be unfair to criticise the exterior too harshly, though, as it was always the interior that we are meant to see, but it does point to an interesting communications strategy. You won't see many poorly resolved concept cars from BMW or Audi, but Mercedes is willing to compromise design to gain an edge for innovation, which begs the question Does design or concept do more to reinforce brand image? 


Cars are the ultimate industrial design overachievers: throw a new market at it, introduce new legislation, tighten emissions and threaten congestion charge: so far every obstacle has strengthened the breed and cars are more capable than ever. It proves the desirability of the concept of private transport, a demand that shows no signs of withering. Underlying the success of the car is its supreme adaptability: A thirty year old Peugeot will drive on a road built last year in Pakistan by someone who was not born when the car was designed using fuel bought today.

But autonomous driving is more than taking your hands off the wheel and turning the front seats around; it is an opportunity for designers to redefine the relationship between man and machine. Traditionally this was done mechanically, through the steering wheel and gearshift and ride quality. Now, in an electric age, everything is assisted, and what we feel is largely artificial. We are in a peculiar purgatory between old-world interaction and a future where the car is simply transport. 

This is an indisputable trend, and it is your fault. You liked it when in 1951 Chrysler introduced power steering on the Imperial. You raved when gears silently shifted, and rejoiced when windows wound themselves: autonomy and anaesthetised cars are the culmination of many years of smaller innovations. We kept buying them, and maybe we are the last generation to know that a car used to provide feel. 

1951 Chrysler Imperial

That’s why I drive an older Mercedes. I want to smell leather, to view the road through untinted glass, and hear those colossal doors slam. It is one of the ironies of electric cars that their success coincides with the sales increases of those soulful classics. In the past cars felt mechanical simply because no alternative existed; now, with so many options available to designers we must be careful to do what is right, and not just what is possible.