I picked up my 2014 Corvette Stingray rental on a cold and dark night in the far-flung suburbs of Los Angeles. Oodles of glowing reviews for the Corvette over the last few years made me very interested in driving Chevy’s finest. This car had been rented to me by a pair of car-enthusiast brothers, who priced the rental at an irresistible $125/day. Optioned with the Z51 package that includes magnetic shocks and shortened final-drive, this car is more track-ready than the base-spec Corvettes that grace rental lots.
While I am doing my best to inspect the car and document any pre-existing damage, one of the brothers, let’s call him Simon, cheerfully tells me his Corvette purchasing story. He had been planning on getting a Z06 or even a Porsche 911 GT3, and while he was at the Chevy dealer inquiring about the Z06, the salesman talked into test driving this Z51 Corvette. Twelve miles later, he was hooked. To him, it is the perfect car with a black roof over white paint (“LA-spec,” I’d call it) and the LT3 full leather interior with red seats and black dash. The carbon-fiber interior trim was also optioned. I am surprised when the owner likens the C7’s driving dynamics and ability to pull-off easy powerslides to my E90 M3, which he sees parked across the street. At least he has a realistic sense that his car is about to be driven hard: he hands me the keys while cautioning me to be very careful while the tires are cold. The C7 is going to drive like my M3? This was something I did not expect at all.
After adjusting the seat and mirrors, plugging in my phone and radar detector, and programming the built-in navigation for home, I depart. It’s harder for me to get comfortable with a new car in the dark, and the perimeter of the C7 is hard to discern. The Corvette feels wide and what I’ll call medium-low. (I’d mark a Porsche Cayman as “low-low,” as that car’s seat cushion feels like it’s three inches off the ground.) In the Corvette, it feels like I am maybe 6 six-inches above the road. Visibility is pretty good in the forward direction, but the view out the back (anything behind the seats) is largely obstructed by solid bodywork. With the car filling the lane and the visibility still uncertain, I take it easy leaving Santa Clarita. Turning left onto a broad boulevard, I roll into the gas, and the tail quickly steps out, then is promptly and gruffly stabilized by the ESP. Watch out for cold tires indeed!
Idling at a stoplight, the motor rocks on its mounts like an old-school muscle car and gently shakes the car. I appreciate a little theatrics in my cars as much as the next guy, and I think GM has tuned the engine this way out of pure sensationalism. Laying into the throttle when the light turns green, that muscle rockets me at the dark horizon with a fierce acceleration that eclipses the other fast cars I’ve driven this year: the F82 M4 and (a strangely weak) 997 Turbo. The C7 Corvette is one of the top three fastest cars I have driven, bested only by a tuned GT-R and matching the second-generation CTS-V wagon. (I had a cousin recently tell me his Stingray convertible made 550 hp from the factory; he was wrong—the horsepower is 460 hp—but considering the Stingray’s blistering pace, I’d believe it had 550 hp too.) The engine note is LOUD, raucous, and warlike, and the substantial torque and power come on instantaneously, then crescendo towards the 6500 rpm redline. This is no low-RPM weakling, as the E90 M3 occasionally feels, but a beast that is ready to rip its rear tires into smoke at any provocation.
After a few more stoplights and an on-ramp, my neck muscles are tensed with strain, and my smiling muscles have gotten a workout too. What an extraordinary straight-line experience! None of the C6 Corvettes I’ve driven had this shock-and-awe speed. In a great car, there will be one (or hopefully more!) shining points of excellence in its orchestration; the Corvette Stingray has proverbially knocked it out of the park with its engine response and sound.
I take it easy the rest of the way home as the highway patrol is thick on these highways. It gives me a chance to reflect on the suspension’s ride over broken surfaces—I am thinking of you, Hwy 405. Driving this same route an hour earlier in the M3, the BMW’s well-tuned conventional suspension did a good job of smoothing the little bumps, like the gaps between concrete slabs, while still reporting them to me through the chassis. Big bumps, however, such as transitions onto bridges, create a proportionally large response from the suspension. And if the bump is so severe that it reaches the limits of the suspension, I’m bounced up in my seat. In the Corvette, there strangely seems to be an inverse relationship between the amplitude of the bump and the response in the car. The Corvette swallows big bumps really well, like BMW 7-series air ride well, but somehow still manages to amplify the small bumps in the road and keep the chassis in a constant state of jitter. The result is a busy ride most of the time with some expertly smothered large impacts.
C7 parked in my home garage, I lay awake in bed, anticipating the day of driving to come. The C7 has created a new benchmark in my mind for off-the-line acceleration excitement. Everyone says this car is supposed to handle as well as it goes: what will I discover tomorrow?
The next morning I am out the door early, driving west on the PCH to Malibu. I find at least four excuses to pull over, let traffic clear, and do 0-60 mph runs. The V8 noise and speed are so exhilarating! My neck is still straining, tight from the G-forces. If I really just mat the gas pedal, the Corvette does a lot of tire spinning on these sprints, but that only adds to the fun.
I put the beaches behind me and head up the mountain at Las Flores Canyon. The Stingray has many different driving modes—Wet, Eco, Touring, Sport, and Track—and with the car in Sport, I start climbing the hill. The fun begins on the first open hairpin; the C7 car sticks well through the corner and out the exit. The following stretch is pretty wrinkled, but the Corvette handles the bumps there too. I punch it coming out of the next tight right-hander, and the rear suddenly snaps out. The swinging tail is caught a moment later by the ESP, but this car has fangs! As I was advised last night, I have to respect these cold tires. The M3 has the same Pilot Super Sport tires; why doesn’t it act this way in the cold? Torque, I assume. Las Flores is tight, ragged and sometimes off-camber, and I can’t predict when my throttle applications will provoke the beginnings of a slide and subsequently the ESP. Supercars of thirty years ago were said to harbor murderous intentions towards their drivers. Does the Corvette have this evil side too?
I complete my blast to the top of Saddle Peak and get a thumbs up from a Porsche driver who must have heard my progress up the peak. The Corvette, with its long hood and creased lines, looks so sharp from the outside. The full leather interior in red and black is great too. There is a real fighter-jet cockpit motif going on in the C7, with the excellent HUD (that I can read through polarized sunglasses, take that BMW) and the way the dash reaches out and wraps the driver as if he was in an F-16.
I let the Corvette stretch out over a lap of Stunt Road’s flowing and sweeping turns and challenge the car with the large dips and rises in that circuit. When I drove a Mustang GT 5.0 on Stunt, I felt like I was riding a bucking bronco, given how the car lifted and floated over large bumps. The C7 is better controlled, but it too is being lifted by the bumps. My sense is that the magnetic ride quickly absorbs a bump and then more slowly and softly releases the suspension extension to gently return the car to its normal height. The result is that the Corvette has a bit of an up-on-its-haunches feeling because the car stays elevated after a bump for that much longer to give you a soft landing. Also, given the size of the bumps the Corvette is swallowing whole, the mag-ride suspension seems to have quite long travel. When the C7 was parked, I noticed that it has more ground clearance than its supercar-aping shape would suggest. I wonder if the elevated ride height and long-travel suspension are GM’s strategy for keeping traction and a stable ride in the choppiest conditions. Laudably, GM has managed to keep the Corvette largely flat in hard cornering even with this lifted height.
The C7 is handling Stunt so well that I choose to do a third pass rather than take the tighter Piuma on my way down the mountain to Mulholland Hwy’s Snake. Curious about the brakes, I do a few hard test stops, and I’m really thrown forward into my seat belt. Porsche 997 Turbo, you have a braking rival. I am not getting any fade (and won’t any time today).
On Mulholland, I indulge in a handful of 0-60 mph runs and even figure out how to get the built-in acceleration timer working. The key is to left-foot brake before launching. My launches are not very good—too much wheel spin—so my best time is a measly 5.5s. Drag racing in competence is not keeping me from smiling, though! The engine’s roar and spinning rear tires are my entertainment. (Why does Simon rent out his car?)
I expected the holdover six-speed automatic to be a strong demerit against the Corvette, but it is not actually getting in the way of my fun. Yes, there is a half-second delay on the upshifts and a one-second delay on downshifts, but the timing is predictable, and I can adjust. The shifts are neither slushy nor jolting, and so they don’t spoil the fun. Additionally, the gearing is so long and the engine so powerful that I really only need to paddle back and forth between second and third gears on twisty roads. I had been annoyed with the cheap plastic shift paddles, but that too is forgotten as speeds build.
Mulholland’s long climbing sweepers on the boundary of Malibu Creek Park are quite a joy. The C7 really likes steady-state cornering and is not showing any signs of understeer. Lifting the gas tucks the nose neatly, stabbing the gas—as I found out earlier on Las Flores—also brings rotation via oversteer. I think the C7 would shine on a smooth and fast racetrack.
The steering in the Corvette is really good. At slow speeds, it is rather light and very easy to turn from center. The response from the nose of the car is quick too. There is a little initial softness from the suspension before it settles into the cornering attitude, but this does not delay the turn’s initiation. As speeds and/or steering angles increase, the steering firms up. I really like that the Corvette’s steering ratio is very tight and that I have not once needed to go hand-over-hand to negotiate a hairpin. My old Evo IX had tight-ratio steering that negated the need for pedaling around the steering wheel. Still, the Evo felt a bit more flighty on-center and more likely to dart into an adjacent lane if your attention lapsed. The feeling of settling the car’s suspension into a cornering attitude is another trait shared between Corvette and Evo, though the Corvette corners much flatter.
Before I make it to The Snake, I take off the targa top and stow it in the hatch for some open-air motoring. There are special receptacles in the hatch that catch the top’s latches and hold them in place during spirited driving. I am tall enough that the hair at the tiptop of my head is getting blown skywards. The C7 sounds better with the top off, and the cabin boom disappears.
I blast up to the top of The Snake, enjoying the noise, leaning on the Performance Traction Management (PTM) stability programming of Track mode to keep my progress neat and tidy. PTM is really smooth and measured, and exiting a corner, it rolls on the throttle as I unwind the steering. If I was practicing being a good driver, I’d do the same. There is none of the earlier slip-and-catch behavior I experience in Sport mode on Las Flores. Either the Track PTM programming is just that much better, or the warmer tires and pavement are helping out too. PTM has the car locked in grip-mode; I can feel it holding back the gas, but this is only because I am deliberately ham-footed to test its limits.
I always wonder if there is an officer at the overlook at the top of The Snake, scowling down at me and brandishing his ticket book as I enthusiastically climb this (in)famous ribbon. Today I am lucky again: the only one at the top is Dominique with his 997.2 Turbo S. He heard me coming all the way up the hill, and he comes over to chat as I park the Corvette in the pullout. I am still thinking about how the C7 is one of the fastest cars I’ve driven when Dominique tells me he is a C7 owner too, but his is a Z06. There clearly exists another league of fast out there that I have not yet sampled. Dominique’s garage is extensive: in addition to the Turbo S, he has a Viper, Z/28, and Z06. He is proud of getting each of these American sports cars at bargain prices; the Z/28 he claims was on the dealership lot for eight months before he came along and purchased it at a $20k discount. His Turbo S is the fastest of the lot, though.
I do another lap of The Snake and then jump over to Latigo. (Apparently pronounced by locals as ‘lati-’, as in latitude, ‘go’.) I pause at the summit, take more beauty shots of the car and reinstall the roof; even after just one hour, the sun is feeling too hot and roasty for me. I love the exterior appearance of the Stingray! Its proportions look so similar to a front-engined Ferrari, but the styling is more Lamborghini-like, with its stealth fighter, sharp-edged creases that exude aggression. I don’t think I’d change anything about the design.
Latigo is tight and technical and the road on which I fell in love with the M4. I am very interested in contrasting the M4 with the Corvette. Unfortunately, the C7 is not charming me on Latigo. It feels a bit wide for this tight road, and I am still not comfortable with its up-on-toes suspension behavior. The Corvette is doing a great job, however, of swallowing the biggest lumps, including the one I inadvertently launched over at WOT in the M4 and scared myself silly. The highly perturbed surface where Latigo appears to be sliding down the mountain and into the ocean is also mincemeat for the mag ride. The Corvette has better engine response, power, ESP, ride and steering predictability than the M4, but the M4 has more predictable handling and a far superior gearbox.
On the way back up Latigo, I turn off the ESP to see if I can suss out when the C7 will grip-and-go and when it will skid. Out of many corners, the C7 does really squat down and launch with the e-diff earning its keep even though I am actively trying to provoke the rear. Then, other times, the rear will squiggle even when I am not trying to wiggle it. Off-camber surfaces are most likely to cause a slide, but I cannot identify all of the conditions which initiate one. I remember how unflappable and exacting the Cayman was on Latigo, where it so effortlessly scythed through the switchbacks and S-curves in a textbook illustration of mid-engined chassis dynamics. Even the M4 won me over on Latigo, charging out of corners like a baby GT-R, riding a wave of turbo torque up the DCT’s gears. The Corvette may be conquering this road, but instead of charming me, the Corvette is revealing its flaws.
The weakness highlighted by Latigo is chassis shake and twist. Over really bumpy surfaces, the Corvette’s individual corners seem to jitter and flutter to a tune of their own. The M4 and Cayman banished such flex; has the requirement for a removable roof on the Corvette created this demerit? Regardless, I expect better from modern cars.
I take the scenic route to Hwy 101 via Mulholland Hwy and Dry Canyon Rd so I can keep driving the Corvette hard through corners. On otherwise smooth Mulholland, an errant heave catches both me and the mag-ride suspension by surprise, and a few Pilot Super Sport tires are momentarily airborne. The Corvette sticks the landing and is awarded a 10 by the American judge (me). I guess there really are some bumps that are too large for the Corvette to swallow!
I scrap my Italian deli lunch plans so I can have a little more time in the C7. On Hwy 101 in transit to Little Tujunga Canyon, I notice many squeaks and rattles in this relatively new 28,000-mile car. Yes, my M3 has its rattles too, but not quite so many or so loud! The interior looks good but feels slightly down-market with its rubbery plastic knobs and its buttons with imprecise action. The electronic interfaces are all very good, though, from the LCD instrument panel, which has different appearances for each of the drive modes, to the touch-sensitive navigation screen and software. Over the last few hours, I have also appreciated the three fast-charging USB ports sprinkled throughout the cabin; I have been charging camera batteries and powering my phone, and there is enough flow to keep my cell’s battery full. My M3 cannot manage that.
It dawns on me that the Corvette has actively ventilated seats. Soon, my mildly sweaty shirt is being dried from behind. I’d give these seats a ‘B’ for their primary purpose, keeping you supported and comfortable while driving. I am comfortable—other than the way the little shoulder wings push my shoulders forward—but I wish for more thigh bolstering. The C7 has really high cornering performance, and I was doing quite a bit of left leg bracing on the dead pedal to keep myself planted in the corners. I know there is a sports seat for the Stingray, so the problem may be solved with that option.
Little Tujunga Canyon Road is Jay Leno’s stomping ground and the tuning circuit for many noteworthy automobile builders. The point is proven when a Singer Porsche covered in protective masking passes me as I am starting my GoPro. I charge up Little Tujunga hoping to catch the Singer and get some video of it in flight, but when I find him, he is parked in a turnout. I continue past, enjoying the climb all by myself when off in the distance, I see the sight I’d feared earlier today. A highway patrol vehicle is parked on the ridge above, lights on, watching (and probably hearing) my progress up the canyon. There is no place to turn around, so I reduce my speed to 30 mph and upshift for quieter running, then proceed. The officer has blocked traffic, and as I stop before him, he walks from his car straight to my window. I am ready to produce my driver’s license and receive what I hope will just be a scolding. “They are filming on the road ahead. You’ll have to wait here a few minutes,” he tells me, “then the rest of the canyon is yours.” Whew!
Unfortunately, an extensive film crew, dozens of people large, with two completely cladded mystery hatchbacks and a line of glossy Infinitis have taken over the signature switchbacks at the summit of Little Tujunga. I won’t be sampling this portion of Little Tujunga at speed after all. I hang around to try to glimpse the mystery cars uncovered, but the crew is savvy to my presence and does not resume filming until I leave.
To console myself, I drive the remainder of the canyon twice and then perform one final, farewell 0-to-60 mph run: 4.7s, slightly aided by gravity. I am still spinning the tires too much in these runs, but let’s just say I did so to celebrate the excellent hoonage enabled by the C7 than admit that I am just a bad stoplight racer. Next time I’ll have to really rev up the engine before launching.
After returning the Stingray its owner (who I learn has been driving it without a license for some time now!), I plod home in my M3. The M experience is much cushier and quieter, and I like the chance to relax. Simon had promised me that the C7 drives like my M3, only ever-so-much-more-so, but I disagree. The Corvette is so much faster thanks to its lighter weight and more powerful engine. Its grip and acceleration strain my neck muscles. Its power can—and will!—roast tires all day long. The M3 can run with sports cars, the Corvette runs with supercars.
Taking stock of the experience measure by measure, Chevy wins some categories and BMW others. I favor the M3’s symphonic engine note, even though I’d prefer the C7’s raw and awesome power. They both have pace in the canyons, but the C7 is quicker, if much edgier and more likely to bite. (I am still wondering if this particular C7 needed an alignment, as I have not heard of such twitchiness from other reviewers.) I never encountered understeer in the C7, yes I did try to find it, but I get it regularly in the M3. Their suspensions have been tuned with disparate philosophies: I am more comfortable with BMW’s approach due to personal familiarity. BMW keeps the M3 hunkered down where Chevy has the Corvette dancing on its toes. With its quick ratio and response, the Corvette’s steering subjectively surpasses the M3’s, but the M car has marginally better feedback and a nicer steering wheel. The M3’s traction control can’t noninvasively chaperon spirited driving, but PTM does that trick well.
In my M4 test, I started cold about the car but ended up in love; the Corvette’s day has gone the other way. I started giddy, so excited to tear up tarmac in the C7, but my enthusiasm waned as the Corvette put me on edge with its unpredictable oversteer, disappointed me with its shivering chassis, and annoyed me with rattles. I won’t call it “familiarity breeding contempt,” but rather familiarity breeding contemplation: Would a competitor such as the Carrera S have more hewn-from-stone solidity and hunkered-down road demeanor lacking in the C7? Does anyone sell a fixed-roof solution for the C7 to firm the chassis? Does the manual gearbox greatly enhance the Corvette? Would an alignment adjust-away the sporadically spooky handling?
Oh, Corvette Stingray, you raucous beast, you’ve caught my eye and earned my respect and admiration, but I am not yet ready to say I love you. Maybe after a few more dates and get to know you better, I’ll be ready to utter that phrase.
Mike's Steering Column 