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It is ugly. But that is to be expected. Rare is the military vehicle that is a thing of beauty.

Its virtue, to the extent that it has any off the battlefield, is that it is so outrageously rugged it appeals to a group of private buyers who are willing to pay $75,000 to get it.

Even with its full-leather, walnut-trimmed interior, there is little about the Mercedes-Benz G500 to suggest that it is anything more than a truck meant for armies and police forces in Africa, Asia and Latin America.

That it now finds itself on these shores riding at the head of the sport-utility-vehicle parade is a testament to America’s passionate love for all things truck.

That romance, viewed as illicit by many environmentalists, has created a highly segmented truck market topped by a group of vehicles available to a wealthy few. That group includes models such as the AM General Hummer Open Top 4WD ($97,806), BMW X5 4.6is Sport Activity Vehicle AWD ($66,200), Cadillac Escalade SUV AWD ($51,235), Land Rover Range Rover 4.6 HSE 4WD ($68,000), Lexus LX 470 ($61,855) and the Lincoln Blackwood SUV/pickup ($52,785).

The G500, also known as the Gelaendewagen and G-Wagen, previously was imported and sold in the United States by independent companies, such as Europa International of Santa Fe, N.M.

Typically, the independents bought models that were built for European sales and then outfitted to meet U.S. safety and emissions standards. That extra work boosted the U.S. price of G-Wagens to as much as $135,000 per copy. But hundreds of buyers, seeking the most exclusive of the exclusive, bought them anyway.

That was too much for Mercedes-Benz to ignore. The company decided to buy out the middlemen and sell the G500 through its own dealers’ network — at a profit to itself and savings (gulp!) of nearly $60,000 per vehicle to American consumers.

What those buyers are getting for their money is a matter of personal perception, no different from what art patrons believe they get for paying hundreds of thousands of dollars, or more, for a painting or sculpture.

But my plebeian view is that they’re getting a conventional body-on-frame truck with creased sheet metal, exposed hinges, and solid front and rear axles — a utilitarian truck that hasn’t changed much during its 23 years on life’s rougher roads.

That is a good thing, assuming that your commutes and driving adventures routinely take you off the beaten path. The G500 can roll over or through just about anything.

However, it makes little sense, other than garnering prestige points, to have the G500 as a regular driver in the city or as an everyday vehicle on suburbia’s residential streets.

This is a heavy beast, weighing in at 5,423 pounds. The steering for normal driving is hard, requiring more than the usual amount of arm muscle to turn the front wheels.

Some reviewers describ ed the G500’s on-road ride as “smooth” and “civilized.” I disagree. This is a rough rider. It’s as trucky as trucky gets.

Even the G500’s body speaks to this point. It’s a tall, boxy structure, absent anything akin to aerodynamic design. That’s understandable. The G500 is built to get you to your destination, regardless of terrain. It is not designed to get you there fast with the lowest possible fuel consumption.

The G500’s exterior door handles belong on a vault. Then again, given the truck’s super-rigid steel frame, that’s exactly where they are. You’ve got to thumb-shove the handles’ locks to pull open the doors.

There is also the matter of interior glass glare. There aren’t many neon lights in the bush. Nor is there much ambient, nighttime highway traffic with streams of bright yellows and reds. But those things are found in the city — and all of them, it seems, are reflected on the flat, interior windowpanes of the G500.

Yet I sti l enjoyed my week behind the wheel of this monster. Power seduces, and I was seduced by the uncompromising roar of its 296-horsepower V-8 engine and the deference given to it by fellow motorists. Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.