You could barely tell that the ZR1 was a handsome "Elkhart Lake Blue Metallic" when I picked it up at nighttime near the Detroit airport.
First challenge: Getting suitcase into the quite small truck — over the carbon-fiber wing. The trick? Load from the side!
The design will be familiar to anyone who's seen the ZR1's stablemate, the Z06. But his Vette is more ferocious in every way.
In fact, there's so much going on with this coupé two-seater that you have to step back a few yards to note how relatively small the Vette is — even with all the ZR1 extras.
The ZR1 adds another 105 horsepower, making it the most powerful vehicle we've ever tested for more than a few hours.
While out back the rear wing provides the immense downforce needed to make sure then Vette's tires remain stuck to the pavement when the hammer is dropped at the horsepower is flowing.
It does steal some thunder from the quartet or trumpets that shape the ZR1's monumental exhaust note, sort of like a demonic version of the Count Basie brass section.
I must report that the massive carbon-fiber hood scoop — which is really part of the engine, not the hood — and the rear wing reduce visibility.
But we're not dealing with a car that's holding anything back. You have to accept the ZR1 for what it is.
As with the Z06, the targa top is easy to remove. Two people are best, but I handled it myself with no difficulty.
We can debate whether the ZR! looks better with the top removed. I'm not sure. But open-air motoring in the Michigan suburbs is definitely pleasant on a warm day.
Well, given that the V8 is cowled by a massive carbon fiber cover for the supercharger, you'll just have to take my word that the 6.2-liter pushrod LT5 V8, making 755 horsepower with 715 pound-feet of torque, is an unholy monster of a powerplant. MPGs are 12 city/20 highway/15 combined.
The ZR1 channels all that insane power through a smooth-shifting seven-speed manual or optional eight-speed automatic. The 0-60 mph dash passes in about three seconds, on the way to a top speed of 212 mph (attainable only when drag running on an approved track).
The drive mode selector give you access to Tour, Sport, and Track settings. You can also turn off the traction control, but don't.
The manual comes with a rev-matching feature that when engaged is blissful on downshifts. I'm decent at matching my own revs, but the ZR1's computer never makes a mistake.
The seats are sport and prepared to accept a racing harness. Bolstering hugs driver and passenger tight.
The ZR1 is equipped with Chevy's very capable and easy-to-use infotainment system, although it runs on a by-necessity rather small touchscreen.
Which can connect drivers with merchant partners so that on-the-road purchases can be executed, as long an account has been set up.
OK, so what was ZR1 like to drive?
I'm not going to shock anyone by saying that I could have used a drag strip or the Nürburgring to undertake a proper evaluation. The ZR1 has so much power and is so well outfitted to deploy it that mere public roads were not much of a challenge.
Weirdly, while I was initially terrified of the ZR1 and drove it gingerly for the first few hours, my comfort level later skyrocketed, regardless of which drive mode was on tap. This was not the case when I tested the Z06 and felt that it was endlessly demanding more bandwidth.
With that car, I could get into some of the meat of the V8's 650 ponies. But when it came to the the ZR1's 755 horses, let's get real: I was barely tickling the stallion. At no time did I have the real estate available to unleash hell, nor did the laws of Michigan permit anything that would have revealed the ZR1's savagery.
So I did what I often do with Vettes: I cruised and enjoyed the luscious sounds of the engine as I shifted gears and played with the throttle. This motor sounds so, so good. That's ample compensation for not being able to access all it can give, because even at 50 mph, settled into a third-gear roar, there's a lot of give.
The steering is heavy and purposeful, and the upgraded suspension is rock-steady, although the impression I got in some corners was that if you try to power your way out, the back end could get lively.
The temptation to use that oomph is ever-present, but also an unending tantalization. Even when I was getting on it, the feeling was that I had miles of horsepower and sprawling vistas of torque in reserve. This makes that astonishing 755 number, so impressive on paper, more than a little abstract in reality. The Stingray's 460 ponies are accessible by contrast.
But let's be totally honest: 755hp for less than $150,000? You have got to be kidding, Corvette. Ha ha ha ha ha! The value that this machine presents for an enthusiast is flatly ridiculous. OK, it's not an inexpensive car. But you're well into supercar specs, pushing toward hypercar numbers, and your bank account isn't going up in flames.
The verdict?
The 2019 Corvette is the undisputed king of American supercars that nobody routinely refers to as supercars. It costs hundreds of thousands less than the competition that gets to use that title. You might think that some sort of law of diminishing returns might kick in as you march up the Vette hierarchy, but I've made the march and I'm here to tell you that just as you get way more than you pay for with the Stingray, the Grand Sport, and the Z06, so you do with the ZR1.
The ZR1 is brilliant, and too good for me, really. I couldn't give it what it wanted, which was a stripe of unbroken asphalt between here and the Moon to chew up and spit out. All I got to do was tool around Detroit in epic, thrummingly noisy style.
You might assume I returned the ZR1 with a smile on my face. I did. But I felt bad. The ZR1 had come to deliver the goods and then some. And I disappointed it.