Remedial Shifting at the Hands of an Unforgiving Camaro

 After an exciting, albeit fairly brief stint in the 2010 Ford Taurus SHO, I was looking for something a little more exciting. It’s generally hard to top a 365 horsepower sedan, but I did my best. I knew a Chevrolet Cobalt SS wouldn’t cut it. Neither would the Impala SS…but hey, while we’re on the subject of Chevrolet’s high-performance SS line, what about the Camaro SS? That’s current American muscle at its best. A massively powerful 6.2 liter LS3 engine (from the 2008 to present Corvette), rear wheel drive, aggressively bold and blocky retro styling…the list goes on. A short 15 minutes after I had been in the Taurus SHO, I found myself in the quiet and pleasantly “new-car” scented office of a huge, thoroughly modern-looking Chevrolet dealer.


      The salesman disappeared for a few minutes, and wondering where he might be, I absent-mindedly started looking out of his office window. I saw slow movement in the left corner of the window, but didn’t really pay attention. A few moments later, a 2010 Camaro 2SS rolled slowly by the window, and parked outside the large front granite steps. My mouth watering slightly, I wandered dazedly towards the entrance, numbed by the prospect of driving such a monstrously powerful beast. I stepped outside into the cold January air, shivering quite a bit. I wasn’t cold, though. I was shivering in excited anticipation. The Camaro was graphite grey (Chevy calls it “Cyber Grey Metallic”) color with two meaty orange stripes running down the hood, over the central bulge, which hints at the Camaro’s under-hood potency. The 2SS included the RS package. There were HID headlights, which are those bluish-looking ones that you’ll generally find on nice cars. There are LED halos around the headlights, giving the fairly retro design a decidedly modern attitude. There were also 20-inch wheels, and package-unique tail lights.

Nobody really buys a Camaro for the headlights, though. The real
excitement of the 2SS package was lurking under the hood. The
automatic version of the SS makes 400 horsepower, which is an
astounding amount. The manual version that I was about to drive had 426 horsepower surging through a six-speed manual to beefy rear tires.

      While I quickly familiarized myself with the basic layout of the controls, the salesman spouted vast quantities of figures, most of which were interesting. I learned that our model had heated seats, Bluetooth connectivity, XM radio, a Boston Acoustics sound system, iPod connectivity, a sunroof, and Onstar voice navigation. Despite all of this technology, a nav system with a screen is not available, but Onstar should suffice for those who don’t care about the aesthetic appeal of a large screen in the middle of a dashboard. The four gauge pod ahead of the shifter was a nice, classic touch for the interior.

      After adjusting the mirrors, I put the thick-handled key into the ignition, and gave it a less than timid turn. The mighty V8 cranked quickly, and angrily bellowed into life almost immediately. As the burbling exhaust settled down into a smooth, distinctively baritone idle, I remembered just how much power I was dealing with. I notched the chunky shifter into reverse, and eased gently out of the parking spot, aiming the front end towards an exit. I revved up the engine slightly, let out the clutch a bit, and … looked like a fool. The clutch had a very abrupt engagement point, and the car was immediately off, jolting around as though laughing at me. This drive would not be as simple as the Focus from a few months ago. Taking a right onto a main road was no better, and the car lurched just as much as it had a moment before. I looked as though I was learning to drive a standard in a Camaro. I’m glad nobody in Michigan knew me. I was determined to get the next sequence of shifts right, however. I stopped at a red light, and mentally prepared myself for the moment it would turn green. I revved the brute of an engine up to 1500 or so rpm, and gingerly let out the clutch, expecting to finally nail the launch. Nope. It was hopeless. I was defeated, but still in a great mood. Why? Because I had 426 horsepower hard wired to my right foot. Trying to forget the salesman who was probably sobbing in the back seat (Chevy generally frowns on sending 18-year-old guys out in brand-new, unsold cars with 400+ horsepower without supervision), I nailed the 1-2 shift, and stepped on it. The jolly salesman (he looked a bit like Santa) became a backseat bobble head. Michigan roads are just as torn up in some places as Maine roads, and I had skillfully found one of these places. The massive V8’s 426 horsepower snorted and screamed as the tachometer’s needle shot towards the redline. Every imperfection in the road became a small valley, and would cause the tires to spin for a split second as they bounced up over each one. The car heaved itself forwards with positively alarming alacrity, and we instantly found that 15 mph had magically turned into 65 mph. I was expecting something like that, but it was still absolutely amazing to experience. It was a sort of punch-it-then-hang-on-for-dear-life situation, and this was only the second time I had felt acceleration like that. Obviously, the fool who couldn’t drive a manual was now also grinning like an idiot. Santa let out a nervous chuckle that fairly said, “I don’t know if I want you learning to drive a stick shift with me around…” I had learned years before, but that really didn’t seem to matter.

      After Santa settled down, we went for a low-speed cruise on a twisty road, and I enjoyed the taut yet smooth suspension. Rolling back towards the dealer in third gear, I quickly disengaged the clutch and blipped the throttle, allowing the 6.2L to thunder through some of its violent but melodious range. Once securely parked in the space where we had found the Camaro, Santa shakily undid his seatbelt, and I explored the sound system. Mr. Claus helpfully pointed me in the direction of a good hip-hop station, and I cranked the bass up. Quite a decent system, considering the relatively low 245 peak wattage. After a quick and shiver-filled walk around the muscular rear haunches of the Camaro (this time I was actually cold), I headed back into the building to talk with Santa for a few more minutes. It was then that I learned that Chevrolet is really working to sell these. If you pressure the salesperson, you’ll most likely end up with “GM Employee Pricing.” That means that the fully loaded car I had tested would only be around $37,000, which is a rather fantastic deal when you look at the performance. The Camaro SS will faithfully do what you ask of it, but ask with conviction. Every surface, every angle of the car feels substantial. There is no dainty upshift light for fuel economy, though the manual SS can manage a fairly impressive 24 mpg on the highway. The shifter doesn’t want a light finger-flick from gear to gear; it wants a decisive plunge through the shiftgate. If you didn’t already get it, don’t bother trying to be slow and forgiving with the clutch, because it’ll punch you in the face. Instead, be precise, and accurate, quickly reaching the point of engagement, and holding it there till the engine and the tires are synced.


      If there’s one word that sums up the feel of the Camaro SS, I’d have to go with “tough.” Figure out how to drive it without the ludicrous shifting, and it’ll make you feel like a superhero, as I did during that short 1-2 shift. Of all of the faster cars that I have driven, the Camaro is my favorite. Unfortunately, despite the generous offer of “GM Employee Pricing,” even the base Camaro is just a touch out of my budget. Never have I wanted to be on Santa's “nice list” so badly.