First Drive Review
Seventeen months have passed since the Camaro concept coupe made its debut. Since then, we have learned that the Camaro two-seater would indeed be produced (on GM's much touted Zeta platform), we saw the stunning convertible concept, and we learned, of course, that the convertible, too, would be produced. Somewhere in between, editor-in-chief Csaba Csere drove the coupe concept in Detroit. And recently, we got to drive the sexy ragtop in California. Was there a production Camaro anywhere in sight? Nope. Were the designers on hand loose-lipped and revealing all those details we're so hungry for? Not this time.
A Great Ragtop in the Making
What we did find out, not surprisingly, is that the Camaro is going to make a great droptop. In the California sunshine, the convertible's Hugger Orange Metallic paint shimmered while light shot off the chrome from its massive 21-inch wheels. Next to the deep blue lake on Tejon Ranch, the Camaro looked every bit the bad-ass, yet invitingly approachable in that extroverted hue. Indeed, the roofless Camaro not only will look good but should also allow the driver to look good in a way that the hardtop just can't: by exposing him to the throngs of envious passersby. The convertible requires its driver to trade some of the hardtop's intensity for some genuine joie de vivre. And that's a trade we expect a lot of people to willingly make.
Too Big for Reality
But boy is she big. At 186.2 inches in length, the Camaro convertible concept is about as long as a Ford Mustang, but the Chevy is fully six inches wider, and if the concept had a production-spec windshield and roof, it'd be a couple more inches taller. The fenders are waist high, and the huge wheels completely fill out the fenders.
These dimensions, however dramatic for the auto-show stand, render both concepts about two sizes too big for road-ready muscle-car duties, a reality we experienced behind the wheel. It's scary enough to be driving a multimillion-dollar one-off show star, but trying to keep the big thing within the narrow lanes of the Tejon Ranch back roads was absolutely nerve-racking, made worse only by its show-car (i.e., held together by Scotch tape) steering system that had its own whimsical interpretations of our directional inputs.
