Take another look. Cast your eyes down the aggressive lines of my carbon-fiber hood, knowing it contains more than 450 horses worth of pure American muscle. It’s the old familiar profile that has defined performance since the glory days of chrome and speed. But now, I’m something more. Something in the styling of the air intakes as they crease the hood back to my tapered trunk that feels…predatory.
As your gaze trails back, a badge with a small glint of chrome blazing forth like an arrow piercing the future catches your eye.
Now, gazing at that chrome arrow, you realize why my lines hearken back to that classic muscle era. Embossed just behind the front tires, anchoring a sleek set of door panels, is the mark of the Stingray.
It’s been awhile, but I’m back.
For some of you the notion of the Corvette Stingray may conjure images of the era of foot-shaped gas pedals, the sounds of Steve Miller Band on eight track, the smell of Billy Beer and the feel of wind flying through feathered hair. I’m here to set the record straight.
I am a Stringray for today. I am the modern embodiment of Bill Mitchell’s “Mitchell Sting Ray,” the car that defined racing in the 1950s. I am the style he saw when he pulled a Mako shark out of the sea and drew inspiration from its stealthy lines.
I am American muscle reborn.
My 6.2 liter LT1 V8 roars as loud as any big block. It just does so with a fuel management system and variable valve timing that balances power and efficiency to a degree the old Stingrays could only dream of. The result? I roar like the ’Vettes of old while sipping less fuel.
And my engine has less to pull. My aluminum frame is lighter and stronger then old steel frames. My lighter carbon fiber hood and roof and heavier carbon-nano composite underbelly panels work with a rear transaxle layout to keep my center of gravity low so I’m perfectly balanced through the curves.
But that’s all gearhead jargon. The fact is, you mash my peddle and I pin your head back. And it stays there.
Inside, the carbon-fiber and aluminum trim, hand-wrapped leather and dual eight-inch driver infotainment screens should wipe away any thoughts of shag carpeting and mirror balls.
But I am not a car to casually pilot down the highway. I am a car to be seen in. And with summer looming, you’d be nuts not to spring for my convertible option. It adds another five grand to the base price, and you lose five horses, but when you first whip out the keys and lower the top remotely, you’ll know it was worth the price and the ponies.
My ancestors defined speed. The shine of their chrome and the roar of their engines were how they told the world that American sports cars had arrived.
These days, we temper the muscle with brains. We create an efficient design that sucks every ounce of power out of each stroke of the engine.
But the result is the same. I’m telling the world. The American sports car is back.
6.2L LT1 V8
0-60 in under 4 seconds
Max Speed: 190mph
Max Power: 455hp @6000 rpm
Max Torque: 460lb-ft @4600 RPM
Base Price: $51,995 (coupe) $56,995 (convertible)