Corvettes

I have only ever owned Corvettes. I’ve driven and rented plenty of other cars, but when it comes time to sign papers, it’s always been a Corvette. Four generations and counting:

2020 C8

White, with the high wing. The mid-engine revolution. After decades of “they’ll never do it,” they did it. The C8 is a fundamentally different car from everything that came before — the driving dynamics, the weight distribution, the way it puts power down. Heads will absolutely turn for this car. It’s the best I’ve ever owned and it’s not close.

My first new Corvette, first year of the C8 model, and still under 10,000 miles after six years thanks to working from home. I got this one through pure luck and determination: I put myself on the waiting list after the mid-engine announcement and stayed on it through COVID despite changing jobs twice within a year. I didn’t get to spec it — I sniped mine out from under a business owner who couldn’t bear to show up at work in a new Corvette after laying off his people. I respect that decision. I was arguably on the other side of it that year. But I stuck to the list, and it paid off.

2005 C6

Black convertible, bought in 2009. I briefly owned two Corvettes during the transition — a problem I recommend having at least once. Another hundred-thousand-mile car. The exposed headlights were controversial but grew on me. More power than I probably needed and exactly as much as I wanted.

I loved this car.

1997 C5

Silver coupe with the glass roof — perfect for Texas skies, though the sun eventually took its toll on the coating. The generation that brought the Corvette back to being taken seriously. The LS1 was a revelation after the C4’s L98 — smoother, faster, and finally a car that didn’t apologize for itself.

This one I kept for twelve years and put over a hundred thousand miles on it. This was my custom phase: I replaced a lot of stock parts with “improvements” — intakes, exhaust, and anything else I could justify upgrading. After the C4 experience, a car that just worked felt like a miracle, and a car that worked and let me tinker without punishing me for it was even better.

1990 C4

My first. It lasted six months.

I fixed the AC, rewired the stereo, and drove it a thousand miles straight to Texas right out of college. A tree promptly fell on it. Got that fixed, and then the coupe hatchback — which functions as a rear airbrake when it decides to pop open — deployed at 70 mph. The alternator failed, so I replaced it, and the new one with the correct voltage blew out that lovely digital dashboard completely. When all that was fixed, the brakes failed. I gave up.

The C4 gets a bad reputation, partly deserved. But whoever got that car after me benefitted from all my hard work.

Ron Fellows Performance Driving School

I attended and passed the Ron Fellows Corvette Owners Performance Driving School at Spring Mountain Motor Resort in Pahrump, Nevada. It’s cheesy to call a driving school a certification, but they give you a certificate, so it counts.

The school puts you on a real track in school-provided C8s, with professional instruction on racing lines, braking points, weight transfer, and car control. It’s the most fun you can have while learning something useful — and it fundamentally changed how I drive on the street, mostly by teaching me how much margin there actually is.