A corvette is no tame kitten
Sure, it can purr softly and gently as any household tabby, idling along in the sun. But even so, you catch a hint-a certain lithe competence in the way it moves, an undertone of raw power in the velvety exhaust.
For this one is a tiger! Under its sleek hood beats a savage heart—the steel-sheathed fury of 195 V8 horsepower. Its broad tread clings to the road with an incredible foot sureness. And its 16-to-1 steering ratio, the taloned grip of its huge brakes, give it lightning-fast reflexes.
It is a tiger-but an obedient tiger. This fury of acceleration, these whiplash reflexes, are servant to the slightest nudge of your foot, the fractional pressure of your fingers. Your eye and your nerves command these steel muscles with an absoluteness you have never even dreamed.
True, this car can slip through the tangle of traffic with effortless serenity, its special Powerglide transmission metering out a faultless flow of power. In its foam-rubber seats, its deep floor-carpeting, its glove-soft upholstery, are the true marks of luxury.
But the tiger is always there just under the surface. And, if there is fire in your blood…if your heart soars to the harsh music of excitement…this is the car that was meant for you. Corvette is its name. And action is its business.