[STORY] My Unexpected Night Test-Driving a Luxury Sedan

Last month, I had an experience that felt less like a typical car review and more like a Netflix short film.

I wasn’t even planning to do an automotive test drive—but Lagos has a way of rewriting your script.

It started with a text from my cousin:

“Guy, abeg help me drive one car from Ikoyi to Lekki. Long story, but I’ll explain when you get here.”

I pulled up at the address expecting some regular Toyota Corolla or Honda Civic.

Instead, parked under the dim yellow streetlight was a sleek black 2025 Mercedes-Benz E-Class sedan—shiny, intimidating, almost humming with quiet power like it was alive.

“Wait… this is the car?” I asked, wide-eyed.

My cousin shrugged like it was normal. “Long story, bro. Just help me drive it. I’ll explain later.”

The moment I pressed the push-to-start, the interior lit up like something out of a sci-fi movie.

Ambient lights glowed soft blue, the touchscreen dashboard looked straight out of a spaceship, and the leather seats hugged me like they had memory of every driver before me.

“Bro, this is not a car,” I whispered to myself. “This is a luxury spaceship on wheels.”

The steering was butter-smooth, and as I rolled onto the road, the engine purred with a deep, confident growl. Lagos potholes?

I didn’t feel them. The suspension system just floated over like it was dismissing bad vibes.

My cousin, sitting shotgun, chuckled. “You’re enjoying abi? Just wait, the real story is coming.”

Halfway down Ozumba Mbadiwe, just when I was lost in the bliss of the driving experience, my cousin dropped the bomb:

“So… this car doesn’t actually belong to me.”

I froze, foot hovering over the brake. “What do you mean?”

He sighed. “It’s my boss’s. I was supposed to park it at his Lekki house. But… I told one babe I’d come pick her up for a date. So technically, you’re helping me test-drive a luxury sedan while running from a potential sack letter.”

I nearly choked. “Guy! You mean I’m reviewing the best car of the year and also risking your job?”

Before I could even process it, his phone buzzed—his boss calling.

He panicked. “Omo, don’t pick!”

But the call kept flashing on the infotainment screen. The car even said in that polite robotic voice:

“Incoming call from… BOSS.”

I burst out laughing. “Even the car knows you’re in trouble!”

My cousin groaned. “Drive faster, abeg. Just get us to Lekki Phase 1 before I lose my salary.”

Just when I thought it couldn’t get messier, we pulled over at a lounge to “quickly pick his babe.” Out she came—heels in hand, glitter dress, clearly tipsy but stunning. She slid into the back seat and gasped:

“Wow, babe, you upgraded! I thought you said you were broke?”

My cousin forced a smile. “It’s just… car testing.”

I muttered under my breath, “Yeah, testing my patience.”

She leaned forward, admiring the dashboard. “This Mercedes is fire! Omo, leather seats smell like new money. Can we play Burna Boy?”

Without waiting, she tapped the touchscreen. The premium sound system roared to life, bass vibrating like a mini concert.

As we cruised past Admiralty Way, suddenly—blue and red lights flashed behind us.

Police checkpoint.

My cousin nearly fainted. “If they stop us and call my boss, I’m finished.”

I gripped the wheel, trying to look innocent. The officer leaned in, eyeing the sleek car and our guilty faces.

“Good evening, gentlemen. This car looks fresh… whose own is it?”

Before I could answer, the babe in the back slurred: “Na our honeymoon ride!”

The officer stared. Then, unexpectedly, he burst out laughing. “Oya go jare. Enjoy your honeymoon.”

We sped off, hearts racing, while my cousin muttered prayers.

We finally dropped the car at his boss’s Lekki mansion, silently praying no CCTV had tracked us. As I shut the door, I couldn’t help but smile.

That night, I didn’t just test-drive a luxury sedan. I lived through the most chaotic real-life car review ever.

• Performance: Smooth like silk, powerful like thunder.
• Interior: Pure luxury, Gen Z approved.
• Suspension & Comfort: Lagos-proof.

I looked at my cousin and said, “If your boss ever fires you, abeg let me keep the Benz. I already have the review written.”