I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned it before, but I really like Corvettes. It’s something I don’t like to talk about, simply because it would be extremely gauche to be so hyper-focused on it. Honestly, I feel like if I talked all day about Corvettes, it’d probably get pretty annoying too, which is exactly why I’ve been very meticulous about avoiding the topic, opting instead to act like a well-adjusted human who knows how to have normal conversations. I have class.

But what I also have is a mfing CORVETTE BABY!!! One that I’ve been daily driving for over a year now, which is a fact that I know would confuse all the East Coasters who park theirs for the winter and sell them for pennies on the dollar. But for the young west coaster who doesn’t have a family of his own or many responsibilities outside of feeding himself nine times a day and wiping his rear once a week, it’s the perfect vehicle. And now, I’m gonna make it my goal for you to feel the same.

This is my magnum opus. This is my triumph. This is the middle finger to the establishment (my narcolepsy) that never wanted to give a young boy like me the opportunity to talk about the only thing that brings him happiness during these fleeting moments on Earth. This is the 18-year-late review of my daily-driven 2007 C6, brought to you by the main mouth breather of The Autopian. Let’s get into it.

The Basics

Year and Trim: 2007 Base Model with a Targa Top

Engine: Front engine, six-liter naturally aspirated V8, aluminum cast iron OHV.

Transmission: Borg-Warner T-56 six-speed manual transmission.

Drivetrain: Real wheel drive.

Output: 400 hp at 6,000 RPM, 400 lb-ft of torque at 4,400 RPM

Fuel economy: A reported 16 mpg city, 26 mpg highway, 19 mpg combined, but more on that later.

Base price: Original MSRP was $47,345, but the current national average is $21,865. Mine was mid-20s in spectacular condition with 55,xxx on the odometer.

First Impressions

Now, I didn’t exactly keep meticulous notes of my actual first impressions when I saw the car, but what I knew for certain was that I was in love. I think what the C6 gets right (other than everything) is a style that looks as new as it does classic. The C5 is undoubtedly a Corvette and felt like a further push of GM’s engineering prowess, but I think most people would agree it looks old. [Ed note: I do not, in fact, think it looks old – MH]

Now I’m not saying old is necessarily a bad thing! There are all kinds of old, from your George Clooneys to your Gary Buseys, and everything in between. If you ask me, the C5 is probably a bit of a Tom Cruise old, where it’s still sharp and incredibly capable in most situations, but from certain angles, it’s starting to show its age just a littleee bit.

The C6, however, is a Paul Rudd ager.

The internet often jokes about how Paul Rudd hasn’t aged a bit in the last several decades, and I feel like this coupe hasn’t either. If it came out today, I don’t think it would be all that revolutionary, but I think it would absolutely fit right in. At the same time, it feels like a car that’s a bit of a classic in a way I just don’t have the vocabulary to describe.

Anecdotal proof to that effect: When I’m parking next to some old heads, they often let out a little whistle and compliment it, calling it a classic, asking what year it is, all kinds of conversation. By contrast, when I head out for the day, the kids at the school I live across from all get excited and look at it like a spaceship and ask me to rev it (which I do, of course).

It feels agnostic to any generation, providing equal appeal to the typical 60+ Corvette demographic and to the Gen Alpha school kids who made fun of me with long hair by calling me Eric Andre. Lastly, of course, it appeals to me and all the 20-somethings nearby when I pull up in it.

The few who don’t dig it? Well, first off, they’re just wrong, and secondly, I give them a ride in it, and they immediately understand from that point on. Case in point: My roommate was very on-the-record for not liking ‘Vettes, but the first time I cranked it over and he heard that exhaust start burbling, I watched his eyebrows raise. A couple weeks later, we had a day out that ended in some canyon runs through Topanga, and it ended in him getting out of the car shaking, saying “I can’t lie: that scared the shit out of me.” And despite his fecal loss, he still relishes every opportunity to hop in it.

Speaking of hopping in, let’s talk about it.

The Interior

While present-day Griffin has regressed socially and become some kind of bashful, cantankerous rabid animal, my siblings and I were actually raised quite well, which means we weren’t the kinds of kids who destroyed everything our parents owned. One of those things was a ninth-gen Chevy Suburban, and I still distinctly remember the feeling of those plastic nobs and dials. It was notably better than my ‘01 Dodge Ram 1500 that I would regularly, accidentally, smash holes into its knee panel after lightly brushing it, but the Suburban was still far from the lap of luxury.

The Corvette, on the other hand, is performing an incredibly delicate ballet of nostalgia that toes the line between the old Suburban interior and one that’s elevated, more luxurious, and with a touch of the future sprinkled in.

The leather seats here definitely have some creases (which shouldn’t be a surprise considering it’s nearing two decades of life), but no cracks are showing in it anywhere (which is crazy given how I exclusively wear bedazzled Ed Hardy jeans to accentuate my curves). The leather in the childhood Suburban? More cracks and lines than the Grand Canyon.

As for the big, ugly P in the room, we need to talk about plastic. Economy cars with plastic in them? Totally fine and acceptable; there’s no need to give us high-end leather-clad panels everywhere. But as years have gone on, it feels like the quality of the plastics has grown exponentially, and there are honestly plenty of brands that are cramming luxurious leather interiors into their relatively cheap vehicles these days. Have y’all seen the modern Mazdas?

 

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But that’s now, and this is then. We’re looking at an 18-year-old car under the GM banner, which means there’s no shortage of plastics inside it. And despite that, I cannot complain at all. They show no signs of wear, and the paint has held up flawlessly! By being a vestige of the old, I’m saddled with an interior filled with all the old dials and doodads the world is begging to return to, all while reminding me of the car my siblings and I used to laugh and fight in as a kid. I get the best of both worlds.

Oh and did I mention I get to feel like the pilot of a frickin’ F22 Raptor? Because this thing has a HUD babyyy!!!

Sorry, Thomas, but I disagree with you. HUDs ROCK! I kid you not, the HUD here is so comprehensive and responsive, I rarely find myself using the actual cluster. We have three modes here, with street mode dropping extra gauges and emphasizing the speed with a singular big number, and two track modes that give you additional gauges for your engine temperature as well as oil temp and pressure. And if you’re a nerd like me who likes to LARP as a racing driver, it even has an accelerometer on the bottom that’ll tell you how many Gs you’re pulling into a turn. It’s just FUN.

Even though I’m a lover of the HUD, the aforementioned analog dials are pretty crisp, too, especially when you compare them to the gauge cluster on the C7 that started to add some rudimentary digital panels that just…didn’t age great in my opinion. See for yourself:

And while we’re at it, I just wanna say that the C7 feels like it’s having an identity crisis overall. It’s trying to look futuristic, but it feels hampered by the capabilities of old GM manufacturing, and it’s most evident in a cockpit that looks like it was made with the same material as the C6’s, just with more stuff. Meanwhile, take a look at the C8’s that’s actually nice and just got an update!

It’s kinda clear the C7 is a bit of a redheaded stepchild, in my less than humble opinion.

The Driving Experience

Full stop: the Corvette is the fastest and overall nicest car I’ve ever had the pleasure of pressing the pedals of. The naturally aspirated V8 is so responsive, and I quickly learned on my first drive that 400 horses and an equivalent amount of torque is the perfect amount of both. It’s just enough for me to easily start an unexpected fishtail while turning onto a city street (allegedly), the perfect amount to get up to speed around the traffic on the highway on ramp, AND it’s enough to handle the worst starts and stops you can find in the hills of California. Seriously, I’ve taken multiple trips to San Francisco in it, and I haven’t had a single problem.

The performance caged inside that engine blesses you with a speedometer whose final number starts with a two, and yet, it doesn’t feel like I’m driving something eager to kill me. The chassis has an almost perfect 51:49 front bias weight distribution, with suspension that’s firm enough to communicate with my butt instead of sending bolts through it like everyone talks about with titans like the Porsche GT3RS.

Compared to everything else I’ve driven, the steering is heavy enough that I can feel the weight build up while hitting .5 G on the switchbacks of Angeles Crest, but not so heavy that I’m getting a shoulder workout while parallel parking it.

The only thing remotely aggressive about driving it is the T56 transmission. To my knowledge, this is the only car I’ve driven with the T56, so your mileage may vary, but the transmission is tough, and I love it for it.

Before I got the Corvette, I had a six-speed third-gen Mazda 3, and it kept with the Mazda tradition of having a buttery smooth stick shift that will satisfy any driving nerd, but that’s far from the case here. The clutch’s bite point is on a razor’s edge, with folks like my greasemonkey father regularly stalling it when he gets behind the wheel. The shifter itself has the stiffest centering spring I’ve ever felt, requiring me to yank it over into first like I’m doing dumbbell flies, then push forward with all my might like I’m bench pressing just to break through the gate.

While I would’ve undoubtedly hated a stick with such traits on the Mazda, it almost feels right at home on the Corvette. The car is a bucking bronco telling me “hey kid: I’ve got a lot of power here, and I don’t care about whether or not you got the skill to use it,” right before it drags me behind it, foot caught in the stirrups. While I’ve never ridden a horse, I’m confident my skills at wrestling the Corvette’s shifter will have me ready to tackle a horse and put it into a chokehold before it inevitably submits and taps out to my superior knowledge of Brazilian Jiu-jitsu (I took two classes three years ago).

What It Gets Right

I can’t lie, it kinda does everything well. We already talked about the looks and the performance, but for now, I wanna focus on why the car is a shockingly good daily driver.

Before the C6, my daily was the aforementioned Mazda 3, and that car was, to quote Max Verstappen, “simply lovely.” Not only was it a pretty fun driver, it was pretty comfortable, got good gas mileage (32 MPG combined), and had a cargo space comparable to a truck bed when you folded the rear seats down. When I was in the film industry, I knew it would be a reliable commuter that wouldn’t kill me on fuel and that I could fill with equipment when I got to the backlot.

I wouldn’t dare say the Corvette does all that as well as the Mazda did, but it gets close enough that I don’t feel the difference. My current combined mileage is in the low 20s, but I fully admit that I’ve been driving with a bit of a lead foot lately because I paid for the whole speedometer, so I’m gonna use the whole speedometer! But when I’m driving with fuel economy in mind, I’ve brought that average up to the 26 range, and that’s in the several hours-long stop-and-go of Los Angeles.

On roadtrips, I’ve punched in the cruise control and reset the fuel economy ticker to see where it sits, and I’ve had it clear 30. Compared to the Mazda, which had half the cylinders and roughly a third of the power in its economical body, I’m getting infinitely more smiles and almost as many miles from the Corvette, and that’s a trade I’ll take every single time.

And remember how I mentioned the Mazda’s cargo space? Yeah, the Corvette has that in its cozy little hatch, too.

A guy like me always packs heavy, and not just because I’m a certified diva and style icon, but because of the nature of the media world. On a shoot, I often have a carry on sized bag filled with an arrangement of cameras, lenses, and mics; often some lights in a case roughly two feet by one; a separate backpack with a drone; a massive tote bag filled with miscellaneous gear like tripods and portable generators; and so much more; and it ALL fits no problem.

Hell, I once took a road trip with someone where we had the trunk fully loaded AND were still able to take the targa top off and pack it on top of the cargo hold. There’s so much room there, you would’ve sworn it’s generated its own hammerspace to accommodate it all! And on the note of the targa, lemme tell you: that’s the way to live. Just look at this video of my hair blowing with the targa off as proof.

What It Gets Wrong

When I try to deliberately poke holes in the argument for the C6, I’m just about shit out of luck on criticisms. But only just about.

One thing that Chevy introduced in the 80s was the “skip shift” that locked out your second gear, guiding you instead to fourth. It was added to avoid any kinds of gas-guzzler taxes, but the end result is a car that refuses to let you use all the gears in its glorious transmission. Sure, you can ignore it by short shifting, revving it out, or punching into third, but second gear is fun, too, dammit! I won’t stand for its erasure!

Outside of that, the only real issues you have to worry about are the standard sports car quirks you can expect anywhere:

• Visibility is a distant stranger.
• The car is long and wide, making it a bit of a pain to park, especially with…
• A wanting turning radius.
• The body is low, leading to occasional scrapes of the front plastic diffuser (which seems overwhelmingly cosmetic, meaning it just sounds ugly when you scrape it instead of actually damaging the car).

While I don’t have the most sports car experience compared to basically everyone else on the site, I’ve read enough reviews and watched enough videos to know that those issues are common on plenty of sports cars. With that in mind, you almost have to grade it on a curve.

Does the C6 have visibility that can hold a candle to my old Dodge 1500? Not at all, those mirrors were the size of my chest and had the additional circular fisheye ones on them for good measure. Does that mean the Corvette is bad, though? No, it’s perfectly serviceable. Is its length and width a pain to fit in some places? Absolutely, but if it’s a spot that would have me worrying about parking a whoopty in it, maybe I should think twice about putting a nicer one there, too, eh?

That’s all I mean when I’m talking about grading it on a curve. You know there’s gonna be some compromises when you switch to a car like this, but everything it gets right just means so much more than the inconveniences that bring it down.

In Conclusion

Now that this is done, I’m sure you can understand why I wholeheartedly believe the C6 Corvette is indubitably the best commuter one can buy, right? RIGHT?!

I’m obviously hyperbolic in my love for the car, and a lot of it is definitely just because it’s my first exposure to the world of all things speed, but it truly does combine speed, practicality, and efficiency into a single package that so few cars can match.

The Corvette has served as the democratized beacon of speedy hope to the proverbial working man trying to outclass the performance of European sports cars. Because I’m a somewhat talented writer, I’m just gonna rip what I said from a previous Shartbox  Showdown about its racing pedigree instead of typing it all out again:

“Let’s talk about the C6’s racing pedigree too: four LeMans wins. Fifty-one victories in its eight-year run in IMSA alone. It was a car so brisk on the track that many of its competitors straight up quit, with the ALMS series literally shutting down its class after everyone left. If that’s not an endorsement of its performance then what the hell is?! I’m sorry if I tout this car all the time but dammit I need people to know how much I love it!!!”

Past Griffin was really speaking facts, huh? But seriously, the first year the C6.R won Le Mans, it stared down the barrels of the Aston Martin DB9, Ferrari 550, Saleen S7, and the Lamborghini Murcielago. And to twist the knife a bit further, here’s each car’s base MSRP:

• The British One: $161,100
• The Prancing Horse: $212,000
• The Other American Car: around $300,000 (they were always optioned to hell, making it hard to find the true base price)
• The Murciful Bull: $288,000

And as a reminder, the C6 at its complete base price was $47,345, and the nicer Z06 track-focused trim clocked in at $65,800. I already loved my car to hell and back, but every time I consider those hefty price tags and remember the sheer amount of accolades it’s garnered through the years, I find myself loving the car just a little bit more each time I hop in the driver’s seat.

My first time in the driver’s seat was such an overwhelming yet pleasant shock to the senses, and while that shock has waned as time goes on, the car is still the gift that keeps on giving, the car I’ll always be grateful for, and the one I plan to hoon until the wheels come off.

But let me see if I can find someone dumb enough to let me drive their C8…