Vehicle Tested: 1996 Chevrolet Camaro Z28 SS

Base Price of Test Vehicle: $19,895 (price includes destination charge)

Price of Vehicle Tested: $28,149 (price includes destination charge)

The Devil's Chariot

by B. Grant Whitmore
Photos by Christian J. Wardlaw

I like to think of myself as a fairly sensitive '90's kind of guy. I do the dishes, launder my own clothes, put the toilet seat down after I'm done using the facilities, never refer to women as girls, and occasionally read the articles in my wife's Ms. magazine. I try to stay current with the latest, politically-correct names that groups use to differentiate themselves from the rest of the population, and I rarely make fun of people. Thus, you can imagine my surprise when I found myself turned into Billy Redneck after a few short minutes behind the wheel of Chevy's Camaro Z28 SS. Gone were the polite road manners that my mother had worked so hard to instill in me when I first got my license. Gone was my respect for the aged and infirm. This car was built to be driven, dammit, and I didn't need any Sunday drivers holding me back.

The metamorphosis from man to beast was as surreal as anything Kafka could have imagined. Toss the penny loafers and burn the chinos; what I needed for this ride was my leather jacket, oldest tennis shoes, and tightest fitting pair of jeans. I was a man possessed with the idea of 305 ponies under the hood and 17" wheels on the ground, and wasn't about to spoil the occasion by looking like a Ken doll. I blazed out of my quiet bedroom community, and headed for a lonely stretch of road about 30 miles outside of Denver. The power of the car was amazing, and although it wasn't as fast as the Corvette we tested earlier this year, it felt much more wild; kind of like riding a rocket with one of its ailerons missing.

The Z28 is not an ordinary car to begin with, because it is much faster than anything else on the road for the money. Check the SS option package box on the order sheet and you'll be rewarded with a forced-air induction, tire-smoking, menace to society. We want to state very clearly that this option package should only be chosen by those who really like to go fast all of the time. It is not meant for the weekend warrior who would need to drive the car sedately 5 days out of the week, and it is most certainly not meant for people who would ever need to drive the car in inclement weather.

The Z28 SS isn't like other cars; driving it is a lot of work. We had a great time taking it through our road courses, and were amazed by the car's rock-solid stability and faultless anti-lock brakes, but the jarring suspension setup makes the car jumpy on all but the smoothest of roads, causing constant correction by the driver. The big Z-rated tires are on a virtual quest to remove drivers from their intended course by following any truck rut or pavement irregularity into oblivion. Differentiating the SS from lesser Camaros is easy. The poodle-swallowing hood scoop, giant tires, and distinct badges let every state trooper in the county know that you are a speed freak. The booming exhaust will annoy your neighbors, and the snarling engine burble will cause parents to clutch their children protectively when you cruise down the road.

Which brings us to an interesting point about the Z28 SS in particular, and the Camaro in general. Camaros have been stigmatized with an unfair reputation since their introduction. When mentioning the Camaro SS at a cocktail party, I lost the interest of the more sophisticated attendees who moments earlier were listening with rapt attention to my discussion of the Porsche Boxster. (The blue-collar rawness of the SS doesn't sit well with those weaned on caviar and Dom Perignon.) Mention Camaros at your place of worship, and be ready to receive the appalled looks of the elder matrons and clergy. Tell a prospective date that you own a Camaro, and you will find her looking at you like you are some proto-Homo sapiens, forever relegated to using monosyllabic words and occasionally scratching yourself where it is not appropriate.

Why are we so quick to judge drivers of Camaros? Is it because they drive poorly? No, Camaro drivers typically pilot their cars as well as the rest of the road-going populace. Is it because they blast obnoxious music out of their vehicles? Although this is sometimes the case, it is certainly not the norm. In fact, the favored cars for sound polluting, wanna-be, gang-bangers are the ubiquitous Honda Civic, Nissan 200SX, and other Japanese pocket rockets. If not these transgressions, then what? They must be doing something wrong to warrant all of this negative attention. We think that it is because Camaro drivers drive fast, and as we all know from high school driver's education classes, speed kills. Not only do Camaro drivers exceed the speed limit, they usually do it such a way that makes the non-Camaro driving population look silly. By accelerating quickly away from a stoplight, Camaros can safely maneuver for the best lane position when traffic is heavy. With plenty of torque everywhere in the powerband, Camaro drivers can cleave through freeway traffic like a hot knife through butter. In other words, by stomping on the long, skinny pedal, Camaro drivers can exit the sad, slow world of minivan madness and sedan slugishness.

This makes minivan and sedan drivers green with envy, and in retaliation they try and slow the Camaro's pace, often performing amazingly stupid acts to make sure that the Camaro doesn't get ahead of them. We at Edmund'sŪ think that it is a psychological thing. People don't want to be passed, because in some strange Darwinian manner, speed implies power and success. Thus by bottlenecking traffic in a Lincoln Continental or Dodge Caravan, drivers can assure themselves that they are, in fact, swift and powerful, when in reality they are merely the crippled mountain goat ready to be downed by the lurking cougar.

Nowhere, it seems, is this psychological dysfunction more apparent than the streets of Denver, Colorado. The fear of being passed is so great here that drivers will not move out of the left lane of traffic even if they are going 10 mph under the posted speed limit with a horde of fast movers descending on them like locusts. Witness the experience of our managing editor in the Camaro SS. While serenely driving down C-470, a big looping stretch of freeway that circles the south and west parts of Denver, Chris came upon a minivan slowly cruising in the left hand lane. Our test Z28 SS was bright red and equipped with GM's ever-present daytime running lights. We are certain that only the certifiably blind could have missed the car. Chris hung respectfully behind the minivan for a minute or two, waiting for the driver to notice him and move over. Since this was Denver, Chris's politeness was sorely wasted. The minivan failed to yield to the faster-moving traffic, forcing Chris to attempt to pass on the right. When Chris moved into the right lane, the minivan moved over too, straddling the center line, leaving no room to pass on the left or right. Chris, who has much more patience than this editor, moved back to the left lane, thinking that perhaps the minivan was trying to move right to let him by. No such luck. Once that minivan had Chris and the pesky Z28 SS back in the left lane, he too moved back into the left lane. This process was repeated a number of times, with Chris's blood pressure slowly rising, until a third lane opened up, at which point Chris dropped the hammer and flew past the idiotic minivan. The minivanner, noticeably chagrined at having his masculinity usurped by the threatening, shark-toothed Camaro, immediately sped up and rode Chris's rear bumper. Ironically, the traffic ahead of Chris slowed quickly, causing Chris to come to an abrupt stop. The driver of the minivan wasn't paying attention, great idea when you're tailgating, and failed to notice until the last moment that the traffic in front of him was no longer moving. He had to jam on the brakes, and according to Chris, spilled coffee all over himself in the process. Final score? Camaro 1, Minivan 0.

My guess is that this is the real reason that people hate Camaros. Camaros are aggressive-looking cars that are often owned by aggressive drivers. Drivers that are not likely to suffer fools or left-lane bandits kindly. As a result, when someone tries to hold a Camaro up, they are likely to be embarrassed. Nobody likes to be embarrassed, so the resulting animosity towards Camaros grows at each occurrence. If you are suffering from this Camaro-phobia, we can offer of a simple solution: go out and buy a Camaro. You don't necessarily need a Z28 SS, the less exotic varieties will suffice, and your fears of being passed will be alleviated. Not many vehicles are faster than a Chevy Camaro to begin with, and for the price there is nothing that's an even match.

Second Opinion

by Christian J. Wardlaw

Whitmore is right. Driving a red Camaro SS alters the psyche. First thing I did was throw the Z into a tire smoking four-wheel drift in front of the Walgreens down the street from my house. Every time I accelerated, I did it hard and fast. Still, the whole time we had the SS, I never broke 80 mph. Reasons for this languid highway pace are two-fold: (red + Camaro) hood scoop = speeding ticket, and the darn car was a handful to control because the front tires wander all over the road all the time.

The Camaro Z28 is not a daily driver. Buy one, keep it in the garage, and have yourself a ball on smooth, deserted, rural roads over the weekend. The rush of power, the amazing grip in corners, and the snap, crackle, pop exhaust note are more than entertaining enough. This car represents everything muscle cars were, and everything they should have been. Fast in a straight line, and fast in the twisties, nothing except for the Pontiac Firebird WS6 or Mustang Cobra can match the performance of the Z28 SS at this price.

Third Opinion

by Greg Anderson

Please follow this buyer's guide before considering purchasing a Camaro:

1. Be sure your insurance company is forgiving.
2. Be sure you feel the need for speed, and can't afford a Porsche.
3. Be sure you enjoy "little chats" with highway patrol officers.

I drove the Camaro Z28 SS for a total of one hour, and most of that time was spent evading--er, observing--a friendly state trooper. Northbound I-25 was relatively free of heavy traffic, and the red Camaro found itself all by its lonesome, cruising at 75 mph over a curving ridge. My timing was impeccable as usual. I arrive at this ridge just as a white Ford Taurus with roof-mounted strobe lights materializes from the other side of the hill, radar aimed squarely at the defenseless, radar detector-less motorists making their way to Denver.

Checking the rear view mirror, those strobes start flashing as the police car starts a U-turn across the median. Ahead, the green sign says, "Exit 3/4 Mile." A last glimpse behind, and the white car is making its way slowly through the deeper median foliage.

I clear the ridge, and decide to gun it. Yes, this car is powerful. After the police start to chase, you can really use the speed. I make the exit in under thirty seconds, swearing all the way, and then decide that it is time to park the car and take in the scenic view of the interstate that runs below Castle Rock. A state trooper speeds by, and I decide to end my sight-seeing excursion, getting back on the road.

Two miles up, I drive under an overpass, and a strangely familiar trooper enters the highway. He tags along right behind me for six tedious miles, then moves on. My cruise control is now set at 65 mph.

Having made this drive at 75 mph hundreds of times in a beat-up old 5-Series, I was surprised to observe for the first time a trooper going off-road just to meet me. Then again, most of those jaunts were not made in a car that screams "Look at me!!! I'm breaking the law!!!" No, most cars don't have this kind of personality. Hood scoop of a Ferrari 550 Maranello, color of hellfire, and the glaring squint of Clint Eastwood, the Camaro Z28 SS is bound to attract attention. If attention and speed is what you're after, the Camaro will serve you well. Just remember to tell the cops we said "Hi."