What is it like to drive a Chevrolet Corvette in the winter? We discovered

Generally speaking, I’m not a fan of remote starters; warming up cars by idling them with no one on board is both inefficient and bad for the planet. That said, the rumble that the Corvette’s optional performance exhaust releases when you use the start button on the key fob is practically worth the cost of the car. (I only used it when I was already walking to the car to leave, I swear.)

Driving up from New York, the Corvette proved to be a delightful grand tourer, allowing me to cover hundreds of miles at a time in comfort. (I stopped once to stretch my legs, but that was also to fill up the gas tank; like electric vehicles, the C8’s range on the highway is just short of what my trip in Vermont requires.)

The 6.2-litre V8 remains one of the best engines on sale: immensely drivable, with ample torque available across the dial and power at the top of the rev range that will humble most cars on the road. With it under the hood, the Stingray is fast enough to leave anything but supercars in the dust – but it’s just as happy revving 1,600 rpm on the highway, getting 25 mpg at 75 mph. And while I’ll admit I shed a tear for the loss of the shifter in the Corvette, the eight-speed dual-clutch automatic is a revelation, interrupting gear changes smarter than you ever could, than you

It’s pretty darn usable too. Even with the trunk filled with snowmobile gear and winter gear and the trunk filled with a soft Yeti cooler to fill with Alchemist Heady Topper, there was still a good amount of storage space left to find. The cabin’s quirks — the infotainment screen adjacent to the driver, the button-laden spine separating the occupants, the placement of the cupholders, and the wireless phone charger — make living inside a bit awkward once in a while… but mostly just for the passenger, and hey, you bought a ‘Vette to drive it.

And while the Corvette’s proportions arguably lost some old-school freshness by switching to mid-engine (yeah, i said, come to me), there’s no denying that its Ferrari/McLaren/Lamborghini proportions are eye-sucking like a Dyson catching dust bunnies. I’ve seen school-aged boys practically lose their minds at the site of this racy red machine on several occasions; adults tended to be a little less obvious…but only a little.

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