Chevrolet Corvette Review

Ever since I can remember, the Chevrolet Corvette has been the fat Elvis of sports cars. Every few years, someone would try to convince me that "America's sports car" had received the engineering upgrades it needed to restore faded glory. But no. The latest 'Vette was always a dynamic disaster: a feeble chassis married to lackluster brakes and an incompetent suspension, with more than enough horsepower to make it swap ends with frightening ease. Oh, and the car's interior remained the only place capable of making a Motel 6 bedroom seem luxurious. When the latest generation Corvette convertible hoved into view, my expectations were lower than its pavement-scuffing front fascia. Within a week I went from outright hostility to perplexed suspicion, to grudging admiration, to total addiction. The new Corvette still provides plenty of grist for a critic's mill, but it is, finally, a car an enthusiast can grab by the scruff of its neck, thrash to an inch of its redline, throw into a corner and live to tell the tale.

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