The Corvette Conundrum

The Chevrolet Corvette is America's sports car. That is to say it is the only American car that does not serve any purpose other than to go fast. The Corvette has always been fast, thanks in large part to its comparatively large engine. Even in the dark ages of the late 70's when GM managed to strangle the Small Block down to 165HP in an effort to comply with emission regulations, the Corvette was as fast as any proper sports car of the day. In fact, the recent ZR1 holds the tenth fastest lap time ever for a production car at the Nurburgring. Is the Corvette the best sports car in America? There are certainly many choices from other manufacturers, but nothing in its price range approaches the performance of the Corvette.

Simple logic pushes one to wonder why anybody would pay an arm, leg, kidney, spleen, and most of a lung for a 911 or GT-R or F-Type when all the performance could be had for the cost of only a few fingers and toes with a Corvette? The answer is simpler than I would like to admit. It comes down to the fact that a 911, GT-R or F-Type is a much better car than the Corvette. I can appreciate the clarity of intention a Corvette represents, but the fact remains that massive power, acceleration, and roadholding, exclusive of any refinement, do not a car make. Surgeons do not use sledgehammers.

GM's laser focus on cheap speed has created a car that is very hard to live with. Every now and then you just need to get to the drug store for some Preparation H, and the prospect of using a Corvette would make some of us suffer in silence. The transmission is usually an automatic with the reaction times of a glacier. If it is not an automatic, pulling the shifter from gear to gear is as satisfying as coitus interruptus. The interior is made of materials Mattel would be ashamed of. The seats are at the same time too soft to hold you in spirited driving, and too hard to be comfortable for a long trip. The body, made of the same plastic as a cheap laptop, buzzes, groans, rattles, and causes paint to crack. The Bose stereo, while loud enough to drown out the squeaks and jangles, has the same blue digital display your microwave had in 1993. The rear hatch will not shut with the windows up. The front and rear bumpers look good, but are made of a material closely related to linguine noodles. The Corvette is not even as nice to be in as a VW Golf. I am not saying the 911 or GT-R is perfect, but it doesn't embarrass you when it is your turn to drive the boss to lunch. The Corvette is never going to be as nice as a 911, but it could be as good as a Honda or Subaru. GM understands this, and as a result has stopped making the plastic fantastic Corvette.

Not to say GM's Bowling Green facility has fallen into a sink hole. The hills of Kentucky echo again with the song of a high strung Chevy small block. The Stingray has been resurrected. Sure, it is still a Corvette, but it shares nothing in common with recent Corvettes. To begin with, it is stunning. As attractive as an F-Type or 911 and considerably more fetching than the awkward looking GT-R. In fact, it compares favorably with Aston Martins and Maseratis. The interior is made of high quality materials, the unpleasant sheen of cheap plastic conspicuously absent. The standard seats are both supportive and comfortable, while the sports seats are simply unbelievable. The infotainment system is GT-R level. The rear hatch will close. The switchgear is not lifted directly from a cargo van. Refinement, a word never associated with Corvettes, is abundant in the new Stingray.

The Stingray is one of those rare cars that is both satisfying at rest and in motion. The only problem with the new Corvette is that every over tanned, gold chained empty nester with an old Corvette will want to talk to you about how wonderful your cars are. It is probably a good idea to just agree with him on your way out of the gas station.