It's what Corvettes are for, folks, and by the time Durham was finished going through as many gears as we could safely access on a public road, he and I were both laughing like a couple of schoolboys. It's true: The worst day with your Corvette is better than . . . well, most other things.
While the Nu Vintage '67 wasn't the first fire-breathing midyear into whose seats I'd dropped, there was a profound difference between it and the others. Where most early Vettes have a tenuous, wandering feel-the sensation of just barely being on top of something raw and powerful, but only nominally in control of it-from the passenger's seat the Nu Vintage car felt solid, as though it were well and truly connected to the ground. In the place of the chassis flex you would expect, it felt flat, firm and responsive. Power delivery was instantaneous and seemingly endless, while braking was controllable and certain.
In short, the car delivered everything you would expect from a Corvette made in the past 10 years. This is the paradigm shift that Nu Vintage represents. The resto crowd carries the tremendous burden of keeping our history alive, while also ensuring there's enough of a market to keep factory-spec Vette parts in production. But that's not for all Corvettes, and it's not for all Corvette owners. Some cars are simply too far gone-too damaged, customized, or just plain deteriorated-to be candidates for a code-correct rebuild, and many Vette owners don't want to incur the risk of using a pristine showpiece as a daily driver.
The Nu Vintage approach, meanwhile, represents a respectful way to bring older-generation Corvettes up to modern performance levels, ensuring that the can not only can be owned, but also enjoyed, well into the future.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to see their LS7-powered '65.