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Reviewed: 2012 Camaro ZL1

Thursday, October 11, 2012 22:00

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(Before It's News)

By Zack Klapman

One of the nicest and most popular restaurants in Los Angeles is the luxurious, sensory overloading Bazaar at the SLS hotel. Created by Chef Jose Andres, it’s one of those places where the cocktails are chemistry creations, the food is served in small portions for big dollars, and the place is teeming with new surgery and money. When you walk in, it’s a sensory overload. You’ve entered the mind of a culinary schizophrenic. The black bar tables light up with lightning, the white-and-pink pastry boutique (a fancy name for “store”) looks like an antique dollhouse, and the dining area is modern elegance. The food is said to be amazing, and the whole experience will likely cost you several hundred dollars, or more. I only know what it looks like because I applied for a job there, which I deservedly didn’t get.

In D.C., Mr. Andres recently sent his first food truck out into the world. Called “Pepe”, it serves high-quality Spanish-style sandwiches, born from the same great mind as the Bazaar. While a Bazaar meal costs my montly income, the sandwiches top out at $20, but are probably one of the best things you can eat, anywhere.
The 2012 Chevy Camaro ZL1 is that food truck. The brains behind its performance-it’s “taste” if you will- are geniuses. The performance and driving experience delivered by the perfectly paired engine, brakes, steering, suspension and pedals are exceptional. But like standing on the streets of D.C., though the sandwich tastes phenomenal, the atmosphere in which you’re dining leaves a bit to be desired.

What I’m saying is that as driver’s car. Judged only on the most important aspect of food (flavor), the ZL1 is fantastic. As soon as I pulled away I noticed the quick steering ratio, and how well the ZL1 muffled our bumpy, rutted street. Thanks to Matt removing a fuse (F8), the exhaust baffles would remain open forever and as I moved down our block the exhaust burbled, popped and fired off black cats constantly. That is something I want in a muscle car. I want noise. Not just high volume; I want the engine to talk to me. To pedestrians. To other cars. One of the best things about old muscle cars is that symphony of chaos and angst that announces to the world a shared attitude between the car and driver. (General anger and annoyance, in my case). This car does that. I was smiling before the first stop sign and I hadn’t even gone over 10MPH.

Then I turned onto a 55MPH street, and I went over 10MPH, and wowwwWWWWWWWRRRRRRrrrrrrBAPBAPBAPBAP. Like a king’s arrival being announced by dragons blowing trumpets, I was ripping down the road. (Later on, sitting in the house, I would know just how loud this car was when Matt took it on an errand. The sound of the 6.2L, 580HP LSA-now un-censored-shakes every building for 4 square blocks.) At WOT the exhaust sounds like a .50 cal. firing into a wind storm. Honestly, if Spinal Tap had been given a C63, this is what it would sound like modified to “11.” Power came on early and just kept going. Peak torque is at 4,200 RPM, peak power at 6k. I passed both those numbers quite quickly, learning that you can’t rely on an audible crescendo for your shift points(the exhaust’s volume doesn’t grow that much between 4 and 6k); you have to watch the tach. This engine is great. The power band feels flat as a mason’s stone, as wide as John Candy, and just as dependable for big laughs.

Obviously it’s thirsty, and without a super tall 6th gear (like the GT500 and Vette has), 21.1MPG was the best I could on the highway; A/C off, cruise control. Mix in a canyon run and you’re in the mid teens. It’s not as bad as CTS-V, but it’s close. Children (figuratively and literally) that were raised inside an internet tube might say it’s not a lot of power. They are wrong. 10 million ball bearings might be more than 8 million, but if you spill 8 million of them on the ground that is a shitload.

Grabbing gears I noticed the light pedals, steering and shifter. Everything gives you enough tactile information to know what’s happening without resorting to heavy springs or heavy electronic simulation. This car treats you right. The pedals make heel-toe easy, the clutch is light and lets out at the right point (our GT500’s friction point was too late). The brake pedal is light and progressive, speaking to my foot in automotive braille, allowing me to make tiny adjustments very easily. I like the steering ratio, and the turn-in was great; not just for a car of this size, but for any car. The seats are comfortable on long trips and hold you in place through corners, although I would have done horrible thing for adjustable lumbar support.

As I passed over the familiar cracks and bumps of my neighborhood, I noticed how subdued they were and we have Magnetic Ride Control to thank for that. I want this stuff in every car on earth. I want it in my cereal and Lance Armstrong’s perineum wishes his bike had this system. It has two modes: Touring and Sport. In Touring mode, most road imperfections are barely felt in the lowest nerves of your legs. The ride is up there with the best of them. There’s not a squeak, rattle, or shudder anywhere. When we had the C63 AMG with the Track Package, you were very aware of the road surface. Same with the GT500. Not this car. I tested this further on a trip to Santa Barbara and back, and concluded it does an very good job as a comfortable grand tourer, but it also works great on bumpy canyons roads.

In the canyons, I put it in Sport mode, and the difference was quite clear. There’s less body roll and those little vibrations and cracks were now felt all the way up each hair on my head. I don’t mean it was beating me up or crashing about like a stripped out racer, it was just taut. I didn’t get a chance to test the track settings, but I can’t imagine they’d let me down.

We all know the Camaro is a big car, near the length of many 4 door sedans, and when you first get inside, that size is daunting due to the mail slot windshield and A-pillars the size of a redwood’s trunk. But it has that “shrinks when speeding” magic. Although I felt like I was taking up the entire lane, because of the wheel/suspension/tire combination, you can drive it instinctively. Each corner is exactly where you think and feel it will be. After a few turns placing the car was easy, just by sensing where the tires were. In some cars I find myself using the corners of the hood to place the wheels, but in the ZL1 I could do it by feel; the lack of guard rail damage told me my instincts were right. Surprisingly, I felt comfortable in the car quickly.

Before I drove this car I was a little intimidated by it. Everyone said, “You can’t see, it’s too big, it turns into a robot, they’ll make you hang out with Shia Labeouf…”. Great. Sounds like a recipe for a tumble down the hill. “Hey Zack, my friend is coming to dinner. He’s 400lbs, has anger issues and takes sarcasm literally.” Oh good. But the Goodyear Eagle F1 Supercar G:2 tires stuck to the cold asphalt and the nose ducked around the fish hook turns, no matter the radius. I felt a little like I was sitting in the back of a fire truck watching it turn, but the point is you feel at home driving this car. It actually reminded me of the FR-S. I felt more comfortable in that car, in less time, than I had in any car I’ve driven (a lot of which is due to it being very similar to two cars I’ve own/ed; a Miata and a STI). The ZL1 was the same. It might weigh 4,120lbs but it feels like a carbon fiber Katana sword rather than a William Wallace broadsword.

It’s so good it can make you forget you have 580HP. The Heads Up Display (a necessity since the gauges are kind of small and blocked by the steering wheel) is a great tool to alert you to the need to slow down and the 6 piston Brembos do that very well. Canyon, track or road trip; this car is truly comfortable anywhere. If i could, I would have Zagato design me a body to slip over this entire drive-train. I love it. It’s proof that a good car is more than just good parts. If the Camaro was an orchestra, the GM engineers not only hired great musicians (parts) but wrote excellent music (the chassis) and worked on making all the sections work in perfect harmony. As a performance car, it’s excellent. If you’re test-driving base Corvettes, don’t. Go buy a ZL1.

Photo credit: Chris Hayes Threadlines

Corvette’s specifically came to mind because both cars perform, have striking looks, a loyal following, similar cost and (sadly) lacking interiors interiors. They both require compromise for performance. As much as I loved the way the ZL1 drove the interior does not do the drive-train justice. You have to lean around the giant A-pillars in left-hand corners to see where the road goes. I adjusted my seat several times per drive, hoping to find a miracle setting that would overcome the big hood/low roof and give me the gift of sight. There’s hard plastic everywhere. The Alcantara dash is simply laid over hard silver-painted plastic, reminding you that what’s underneath is a (possibly) sad attempt to re-create brushed aluminum. There’s a 6” gap between the seat and armrest, but the armrest is only about 2” across. Why? All that empty space could be used for something that, I dunno, you could rest your whole arm on? The door panels are a strange, thin, hard plastic that look like a glittery bowling ball, and while the steering wheel (very similar to the Sonic) has a great shape, the buttons-while functional and handy- feel loose and cheap. It’s a shame to have a car that has astrophysics brains and gold medal track & field ability but buys most of its wardrobe at ROSS.

That bothers me not just because it isn’t fair to the car, but because I think (along with accountants) it was designed to capitalize on nostalgia. “ZL1″ is supposed to remind many buyers of the Camaros they had/wanted/saw in the 60s. That’s actually the reason behind the muscle car resurgence, isn’t it? Mustangs and Camaros in the 90s looked ok, but what we love are the classics. The designs were bold and those cars reach inside us, either to our youth or simply to a cool time long ago. I love old cars, so I like the new Challenger, Mustang and Camaro (although the Camaro needs to be smaller, smoother, and a little less concept car-y).

And that’s why the interior looks the way it does. They put the designers in an old box and said, “Make it look like this.” Example: The four auxiliary gauges in front of the shifter. Useless. You never look down there, because they’re practically in the passenger footwell. Those gauges were necessary with old engines (I had em), but new cars don’t need amp meters. “But Zack, the old cars had gauges there, so the new one has to. Right?” No. I appreciate and understand what Chevy did, but the reason we poke our heads in a 1968 Camaro and look around like we’re staring at the pirate ship in The Goonies is not because it’s brilliant, but because it’s old. You don’t look at a TV from the 1950s in a museum because you miss that design or functionality. You’re looking at a fossil. Something you don’t see anymore. It’s a “Wow, so this is what it used to be like.” Not, “Isn’t this great?!” Remember old temperature controls? Just a slot with a lever between “Cold” and “Hot.” That’s a bad design. We’ve evolved since then. I understand why the dash looks like it does, but I think a car this good deserves better. (To be fair, I don’t really like the Mustang’s either.) Everything (Bluetooth, SAT, HUD) worked very well, but I think this plastic copy feels too cheap. Perhaps if it was real metal or aluminum it’d be different, but as it stands, I never looked around in admiration. Change the interior a bit and you will not only attract younger buyers who weren’t into classic cars, but it would elevate this car as a whole to a complete package worthy of several times the MSRP. This car drives and performs better than most of the AMG cars I’ve driven. Get the interior up to the level of the driving and you have a car that is hard to beat on the street or in the sales office.

If you have $57,265 (our ZL1) to spend on a car, you could get an E350 BlueTec, or a 1M, or a Boss Mustang, or a base Corvette. But if you want straight up performance, nothing touches this car. It’s the bargain of driver cars (FR-S aside). Someone asked me if you could buy a Camaro SS and build it to ZL1 levels. No. Power levels maybe, but not with a warranty, you don’t get GM’s chassis voodoo or the beloved MRC. Replicating this performance, at this price, is simply not possible. Bench-racers, YouTube jockeys, and people whose parents gave them the middle name “Ford” will snarkily shout about the GT500’s superior power and similar price. True. But the ZL1’s power-due to everything mentioned above- is more applicable by more people. A pro driver might get them around a track in similar time, but I don’t think your average shopper can. The GT500 is like a powerful, bruising ogre, capable of hurling boulders through castles but without the deftness to gently lift a simple glass. The ZL1 can sit at the royal table and put on an air of the polished gentleman, and then slit the throat of whatever sits down next to it.

All that brings me back to my original thought: this is the right car for you, as long as you’re expecting the right things from it. If you only seek the most delicious food around, and don’t care where you eat it, buy this car. It won’t get many stares, because it basically looks like an SS. It’s comfortable but not luxurious, the visibility can be annoying and the trunk is like a Jack-o-lantern whose opening was accidentally carved too small.

But if you love driving. If your focus is on how a car feels and performs, rather than how it looks or what people think. If you want something that can truly double as a grand tourer and a serious performance car, or if you want a track toy that’s cheaper than many a Porsche and will throw them through windows, this is the car for you. And if GM makes the next Camaro a little smaller, a little nicer inside, and a little less Hollywood, that could be the car for everyone.