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Sliding into the driver's seat of a 190E is a unique experience. The first thing you may notice after closing the door - KA-THUNK - and telling your passenger that their door isn't closed all the way - is that the seat has a little springiness to it, like a suspension. Upon adjusting the seat or opening the sunroof, you'll find that the electric motors are completely silent - the only noise is the sliding on the tracks. You try to insert the key into the steering column like a raving idiot before realizing the ignition is located in a more sensible position, flush with the dashboard behind the steering wheel. Turning the ignition switch feels heavy and well-damped, like closing the door was earlier. You turn the key and the car won't turn over. E36 M3. It's the OVP relay. Well, nothing is perfect.
Anyway, the car starts and you thank the gods that it wasn't a problem with the infernal KE-Jetronic mechanical-electric fuel injection system, which is complicated but reliable. It's a little difficult to tell if the car has actually started based on the usual kinesthetic and audible cues since it runs so smoothly - the engine roars to life but as far as the chassis is concerned, you're still sitting there with the engine off. No vibration or swaying - hydraulic engine mounts doing their job.
Right, it's time to get going, that new Bruce Willis movie is playing (remember it's 1991). Your hand falls naturally from the armrest to the automatic gear selector, which slots securely into place next to the "D" marking on the wood-surrounded trim piece with only gentle downward pressure. As you move off, you notice the floor-hinged throttle pedal is stiff - as Doug Demuro would say, "this is not a car for the TIMID." All jokes aside, the advantage of the heavy throttle spring becomes apparent while on the highway, where only the weight of your foot is necessary to maintain throttle application, reducing stress on the ankle and latudimus minimus.
Unfortunately this is also the time your passenger decides he is slick enough to attempt rational operation of the Mercedes Automatic Climate Control System (r). The Mercedes climate control, also used on the W124 and W126, is an ingenious vacuum operated system which has the ability to automatically keep the cabin temperature constant while driving from the south pole to the equator. Ingenious it is, elegant it is not. The buttons which control the climate control, which are as solid feeling as the rest of the switchgear in the car, have symbols the meaning of which is known only to Mercedes engineers - the buttons are rather cryptic, I would argue endearingly so.
The overriding impression, while cruising down the highway with the cruise control set at 65 MPH, caccooned in a bubble of well-designed aerodynamics and no wind noise to speak of, with the chrome Mercedes emblem still gleaming proudly at the front of the hood - is one of superior ride comfort. The ride is remarkably comfortable for such a small car. There is considerable body roll during cornering, but that's what enables such excellent dampening over bumps and imperfections. Other details too seem engineered with high-speed touring in mind - the relatively slow steering ratio, which becomes confidence inspiring at speed; the highly visible gauges from which pertinent information can quickly be gleaned. If you're the sort of driver who measures all cars by their level of sportiness, this is not the car for you. The 190E had a different design brief - to be comfortable and eminently competent. It's an entirely different experience, though I would argue an ultimately more satisfying one.