Ginger or Mary Ann? Steak or lobster? Hellcat or Stingray?
Vexing choices. Because there is no wrong answer. Because they say so much about you. I’ll take Mary Anne to a steakhouse on Woodward in a. . . um. Er. Uhhhhhh. Which car would make the best Dream Cruiser?
The 707-horsepower, most-powerful-muscle-car-ever, $59,995, 2015 Dodge Challenger SRT Hellcat? Or the 455-horsepower, best-pound-for-dollar-sports car-on-the-planet, $76,465, 2014 Corvette C7 Stingray convertible?
Every year, thanks to the generosity of Detroit automakers, The Detroit News auto writers land two state-of-the-art chariots so we can cruise the Cruise in style. It’ll be hard to top this year’s duo. They are future Hall-of-Famers. So gratifying, yet so different. A muscle-bound odd couple.
When the Hellcat curled up on our doorstep, my Cruise colleague, Tom Greenwood, was speechless. So he tapped these classic words on his laptop:
“Dripping with testosterone, the exhaust produces a growly vibration that could churn milk into butter. Honestly, the only thing that would make it better would be if the tailpipes smelled like bacon.”
Yet, given the choice, would I take the Hellcat over the C7? A week on Woodward tells the tale.
Begin with the visuals. The Stingray will be recognized for decades as the seventh generation ’Vette that took the brand from attractive to sexy. Curvy and taut, the C7 is Beyonce on wheels. Our Z51 “bumble bee” package is especially striking. Draped in ticket-me-yellow paint, the wheels and trim are black, meaning the black soft top — traditionally an eyesore on convertibles — fits right in.
Speaking of clam shells, this top will open or close while rolling. Feel rain drops? Under 35 mph, the roof will shut with the touch of a button. No stopping. No fiddling. It’s a cruiser’s dream.
As menacing as our gray and black-trimmed Hellcat looked, it’s only subtly different than its brooding forebears. You’ll know it by the SRT badge and “Slingshot,” black-matte wheels.
But turn the key and the Hellcat comes into its own. The Corvette sports 455 horsepower. The Hellcat sees that and raises it by 252. Two-fifty-two. It’s like adding a Ford Focus ST turbo to the drivetrain. It’s so much power that SRT provides two keys — one red, one black — to caution drivers. Red flings open Pandora’s box. Black limits you to “just” 500 Furies.
Stomp the pedal at a stoplight and all Hellcat breaks loose. The rear tires spin like belt sanders. The air fills with an acrid odor (bacon?). The supercharger drains oxygen from the surrounding ecosystem. A headlight-sized intake — where the inner left lamp should be — makes a shrieking sound like Dracula’s mistress. Mothers hide their children. Car alarms erupt. The Hellcat explodes down the road.
It. Is. Epic.
Next to this tornado, the Corvette (3.8 second 0-60 versus the Hellcat’s 3.5) seems downright civilized. But keep your foot planted over 4000 RPM and valve flaps open in the four big exhaust pipes. An addictive, thunderous roar echoes off the asphalt.
You want to hear it again and again. It’s like the last stanza of the national anthem. Sung at the Super Bowl. By Whitney Houston.
So V-8s go great in a straight line, you say. So tell me something I don’t know. How do they handle? Pardon my snicker. We’re dream cruisers. Stoplight stompers. Ever seen an ess curve on Woodward? Still, man cannot live on burnouts alone. The open road is a symphony and you want an instrument that can play all the notes.
No surprise, the ’Vette walks away from the Hellcat in the twisties. Where the C7 can feel big and sloppy compared to say, a Porsche Boxster, it’s Fred Astaire compared to Hellcat the Dancing Bear. Through the swells and dips of north Oakland County the 3,362-pound C7 is planted, predictable — while the Hellcat’s 4,439 pounds must be carefully managed.
For all the violence outside, these beasts are remarkably comfy inside. The engineers didn’t blow the whole budget on artillery. The Stingray’s plush leather and suede-wrapped steering wheel are living room-comfortable. Your passenger is pampered as well with separate climate controls and two “oh, sh**!” handles for when 4,000 revs come.
The Hellcat can’t match the ’Vette’s country club interior, but it boasts its own suede seats and superb 8.4-inch touchscreen. And it comes with two roomy rear seats so that a family of four can enjoy the fun.
My Cruise-loving wife — my real-life Mary Ann — loves convertibles. So I choose Stingray. How about you?
2014 Corvette Stingray Convertible
Vehicle type: Front-engine, rear-wheel-drive, two-door, sport convertible with electronic, retractable top
Power plant: 6.2-liter, aluminum V-8 with direct injection and dry sump
Power: 455 horsepower, 460 pound-feet of torque
Transmission: Seven-speed manual
Performance: 0-60 mpg, 3.8 seconds; 190 mph top speed
Weight: 3,362 pounds
Fuel economy: EPA 17 mpg city/29 mpg highway
Highs: Glorious V8 note; Luxury interior
Lows: Might get you pulled over by a cop on a bicycle
Henry Payne is auto critic for The Detroit News. Find him at firstname.lastname@example.org or Twitter @HenryEPayne.