no
bucking, whining, or even obnoxious exhaust droning. In fact, if Larry hadn’t
forewarned us about the Corvette’s potentially tempestuous manners, we would
have guessed it was a stock C5. But that was before we nailed the throttle…
Somewhere
around 2,500 RPM, with the pedal to the floor and the front wheels pointed straight
ahead as highly recommended, the twin turbos kicked in. Hard. As the RPMs climbed,
so did the g-forces against the seat back. The nose lifted around 3,500 and
the background became a blur before the shift into second at 6,000. Not gutsy
enough to scream through a full third gear on a public highway, we backed off
after a short burst through second and, almost instantly, the tame, docile manners
returned to the Artic White C5. Talk about Jekyll and Hyde.
“Of
all the performance cars I’ve
