Our test vehicle, a 2007 Sprinter 2500, came to us clad in passenger trim
for the Drive-In lunch trip.
And what more perfect lunch destination is there than Chicago’s iconic Superdawg Drive-In?
With our arteries stiffening in anticipation of the deep-fried, sodium-infused goodness awaiting us, we were off. Consumer Guide’s youngest editor, 26-year old Ed Piotrowski has the soul of a grizzled auto veteran and actually volunteered to pilot our staff-filled 2007 Dodge Sprinter on this pilgrimage.
Consumer Guide loaded 10 staffers into Dodge's Sprinter 2500 passenger van.
From behind the wheel, the Sprinter feels like a cross between a minivan and a condominium. Though the steering is surprisingly direct, there’s no getting past how tippy this high rider feels in a corner. That height pays off in spades inside, however. Where your typical American full-size passenger van rises about 80 inches off the ground. Sprinter’s lofty roof peaks some 16 inches higher. The payoff is vastly improved ingress and egress.
One hungry staffer noted our big Dodge’s vast window area. A boon to driver and passenger alike, Sprinter’s open sightlines provide a useful panorama for pilots, and a claustrophobia-free ride for those in back. Unlike many shuttles fabricated from a van-front chassis, our Sprinter suffered little of the window-rattling quake and quiver that defines vehicles in this class.
Our Sprinter was powered by Mercedes-Benz'
3.0-liter turbdiesel engine.
Superdawg sits at the intersection of Milwaukee and Devon avenues at Chicago’s far northwest edge. Established in 1948, its original owners still oversee the operation. Atop the building stand Maurie and Flaurie. Named for the husband and wife owners, these 10-foot smiling plaster wieners wink at passersby with electric eyes and have been welcoming folks to Chicago for more than half a century.
Much is made about the sanctity of the Chicago hotdog, but Superdawg has been bucking convention since day one. A Superdawg (the trademarked name for this icon’s tubular, bun-encased entrée) is not sprinkled with celery salt, as Chicago canon would dictate, and a Kosher Sinai 48 wiener is used in lieu of the traditional Vienna sausage. Further, while a traditional Chicago dog includes relish, it is nothing like the green-glowing, cesium-infused condiment lovingly dolloped on a Superdawg.
About half the staff opted for the classic Dawg, while the rebels among us went burger, going with either the Supercheesie or, to double the patty count, Whoopercheesie. Our lone vegetarian ordered the grilled cheese on dark bread, a molten mass he claims rivals the general goodness of any meat item on the menu.
Contentedly bloated we reboarded the Sprinter. With the highlight of our day behind us the ride was quiet, with only the well-muted clatter of the Mercedes-Benz 3.0-liter turbodiesel breaking the silence. A stout powerplant, the German diesel proved up to the task, feeling positively spry with the van empty, and still energetic with a full complement of ten people on board. As a bonus, we averaged nearly 18 mpg in less than ginger testing.
Our test Sprinter rode on a 144-inch wheelbase. A 170-inch version is also available. The longer truck offers no additional seating, but has an enormous amount of cargo space.
Back at the office, we reflected on our lunch journey. The consensus: We don’t go out to lunch together enough, and we certainly don’t get to Superdawg as often as we should. With the weather warming up, we’ll watch for the next vehicle capable of hauling our best and brightest to our favorite lunch spot. Maybe this time next year we can arrange for another Sprinter to join our test fleet. Is there a Second Annual Sprint(er) to Superdawg in the works? Stay tuned.
The Consumer Guide Sprint(er) to Superdawg Pictures
 Though Sprinter's steering is surprisingly direct, there's no getting past how tippy this high rider feels in a corner.
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 Maurie and Flaurie, named for the Drive-In's owners, greet customers atop the diner. |