My Night as a Make-A-Wish Kid

Not really, but when my friend, Paul, called up and let me know he'd gotten the Z06 (ie, traded his 7-series BMW for this roommate's Corvette for a week) and he'd be over in 20 minutes I felt as if I've rubbed Aladdin's lamp.

To be exact, it's been 24 long, lonely years since I last got a put a 'Vette through it's death paces. Back then the Corvette was the 2nd fastest production car in the world but only churned out 245-horsepower-- less than the hp in my wife's granny-wagon Infinity I35.

I could not anticipate that when Paul pulled into my driveway that it would sound like someone had asked the gentlemen to start their engines at a NASCAR event.

Paul and I cruise around a while, talk a bit, let the other person know how phucked up their stories are... Let me digress, when Paul and I talk there's a general homicidal agreement (to which we've both consented) that what's said between us stays between us. You always need a friend like the Wolf who's gonna be there for the really crazed stuff you need to talk about, and for me that's Paul. Regarding the homicide pact. Paul and I actually have an agreement that if the other is mentally incapacitated and starts divulging secrets then they have permission to kill the that person. "Sorry, LP. Gary is in stage 4 Alzheimer's and he's running his mouth too damn much. Go ahead and say goodbye, now. [Puts pillow on my face and strokes my hair] Shhhhhh, go to sleep. It's okay. Go to sleep, buddy."

Paul shows me what the car has then invites me to take control. Keep in mind, this is a true supercar-- not one of the cutie cars like a Mustang GT where I can abuse it and never feel like my life is on the line. I need a little coaching. Paul helps out with shift points, etc.

Not that you really have to worry about shift points when you blast through 60 mph in first gear. This car will launch you up to 60 mph in about 3.5 seconds. The feeling of going that fast that quickly is like my friend Big Bill throwing you against the wall (or through it) [see below pic].

We hit the interstate headed towards midtown Memphis, rolling easy when Paul suggests "okay, you're in 4th. I need you to drop it to 3rd and let's go." I'm a good student so I do as instructed. I find it inconceivable that one would need traction control while punching it at 60 mph, but when I drop to 3rd gear and absolutely bury the gas pedal I know we were gonna take this car straight off the road if we didn't have it. I figured this car's forte was gonna be low end. Bad wrong. As hard as I just push the gas pedal, this thing pushes right back. I am absolutely blurry-eyed; my kidneys are bruised from getting pressed back into the seat so hard. You can't even count the single numbers on the Heads-Up Display-- you just see the speedo read 60, 70, 80, 90, 100, "SHIFT !" barks Paul, 110, 120 and we tickle 130 before the once distant cars in front of us are now on our front bumper. Before giving the steed back to Paul I tell him that I feel like a Make-A-Wish kid whose dream was to drive a nice car for the night.

We cruise a little longer and find a few 'necks in Mustang SVTs to bitch around with-- sick, sick, sick. At 100 G's you better get a car that's gonna set everyone straight, and this thing does. It's not even a fair racing this thing against mortal cars.

So I know what you're thinking, which is better? The question, right? Well, let's just say I've never cried after "secks" but I got pretty teary-eyed after hammering this fiberglass honey around. Yeah, it was that good. Time for a smoke.

My baby. I want to lay you down on a bear-skin rug by the fire and make sweet love to you...


Imagine angering this man and having him throw you against the wall. That's what 0-60mph feels like in the Z06


The "next" Z06-- a stock ZR1 tops 205mph in Germany. This is just like Paul and me, except replace the helmets with baseball caps and the laptop with a 40 oz. of Olde English.