From the May 1970 Issue of Car and Driver

The world’s menu of powerful GT cars contains a few selections of uncom­mon merit. Almost invariably they are European, frequently Italian in descent, few in numbers and high in price—the precious gems of the car builder’s art. There is nothing precious about the Ca­maro Z/28, Chevrolet will stamp them out like the government does cupro-nickel quarters, but it is an automobile of un­common merit. It would be every bit as much at home on the narrow, twisting streets of Monte Carlo or in the courtyard of a villa overlooking the Mediterranean as it is on Interstate 80. It’s a Camaro like none before.

As everyone knows by this time the 1970 Firebird and Camaro were introduced late in February rather than during Detroit’s annual fall festivities. Several weeks before Camaros were due in the showrooms, Chevrolet turned loose a half-dozen Z/28s to various members of the automotive press for whatever kind of evaluation pressmen make. We had re­quested one with an automatic transmission—the Blue Maxi, with its 350 cu. in. Z/28, had already convinced us that the manual transmission combination was more than satisfactory—and such a car was waiting. It was an early production model that had been carefully inspected and the result was an automobile of commendably high quality.

Almost all car flakes dream of driving some new car before it’s available to the public and it can be a completely unique experience. It can also give you an insight not otherwise possible. One young man summed it up best. “I know it’s a Z/28, but a Z/28 what?” Only the hard core car underworld knew that it was a Camaro. The rest had to ask. And although we think it’s a stunning machine from almost any vantage point, it generally went unnoticed—even in Los Angeles where the car reigns supreme. It’s a hard situation to explain. We can only theorize that the Camaro’s finely drawn shape, free of Detroit’s customary visual trickery, is some­what removed from the mainstream of public taste. Indeed, if the world approves of Monte Carlos and Rivieras, the Camaro must be an eyesore. We can only hope that is not the case. In fact, there is good reason to believe that the Camaro and Firebird are the leading edge of a new trend in Detroit styling. The Europeans, particularly Giugiaro, have popularized the concept of a strong, simple shape with extreme tumblehome and tuckunder that doesn’t need stick-on ornamentation to make it work. The Camaro is certainly of this school. Only the high, pointy grille seems inconsistent with the rest of the car.

And as the styling is restrained in com­parison to past Camaros so seems to be the performance image. The cold air induc­tion hood is gone now and so is the Z/28’s front spoiler. A change in the Trans-Am rules allows the racers to use a front spoiler whether or not one is available from the factory, and Chevrolet figured it was no Ionger worth the trouble to bolt them on at the production line since cus­tomers just knocked them off on curbs and snow banks anyway. But the cold air hood is another matter and the racers need that. Actually, it’s not so much per­formance as performance image that’s been dulled. The engines, which have most of the say about performance, are stronger than ever. The Z/28 is richer by 48 cubic inches and 70 rated horsepower (tough break for those with insurance worries), 350- and 375-hp 396s (now actually 402 Cubic inches) are still on the list and a 454 lies hidden in the fine print. No discrimination against thrill seekers there.

Somehow, though, the Z/28 is not as thrilling as it once was. It’s more tolerant to driving techniques now, more mature in its behavior. All things considered, it’s a better engine now but the loss of a care­free and irrepressible adolescent spirit can never be witnessed without some regret. And although the Z/28 seems much tamer now than it once did, the transformation is more a function of the car than of the increase in displacement. The mechanical lifter valve gear still makes its busy clatter and the exhaust pulses still cascade and reverberate through the pipes with the same abandon they always did. but the sound engineers have so diligently sealed off the passenger compartment that all of those endearing vibrations are fil­tered out somewhere before they reach your ears. It’s a whole different kind of car now. Better, but not unilaterally. In their zeal, those persecuters of noise have even gone so far as to clamp a silenced air cleaner down on top of the Holley 4-bbl. (automatic transmission versions only). The result is a car of brilliant per­formance for its displacement and with prep school manners—not the combina­tion that brought the Z/28 to pre-eminence within the car culture.

But it does deliver the performance. The automatic transmission test car had a little help from a 4.10-to-one axle ratio, not exactly what we would have dialed up of our own free will. The surprising part is that the high-winding gear is rela­tively tolerable in this speed-limited United States, provided you’re not short of gas money. The interior noise level is so modest that, had we not known about the ratio, we might have suspected some afflic­tion of the tachometer. If you’re interested in acceleration, however, the 4.10 is no more than strategic excess. The Z/28, despite its increase in muscle, is still soft on the low end and with the automatic it would probably bog with a lesser gear. The test car suffered no such infirmities: 14.2 seconds at 100.3 mph in the quarter is as good a measure as any of its physical fitness. Because of the high coolant tem­peratures required for emission control the power drops off as the engine reaches operating temperature. When fully warmed up the Z/28 is 1–2 mph slower—a situa­tion avoidable when outside air is ducted into the carburetor.

Predictably, the automatic is a great pain reliever when you’re beset with a traffic jam. And with the console shifter you are better off leaving the shifting to whatever makes it automatic. If you try to do it yourself you will probably, unless you sandpaper your fingers, lose your way through the shifting maze. Because the decent for the 1-2 shift is indiscernible the result is too often 1-3. Chevrolet promised a motorcycle-type ratcheting shifter several years ago but as soon as our backs were turned it reneged.

Or perhaps the engineers became involved in something else, steering and suspension for example. The new Camaro has completely redesigned steering linkage, now located forward of a line through the ball joints rather than behind as in most other cars. To reduce noise and ride harshness all suspensions have a certain compliance, or ability to deflect, built in. With the linkage mounted forward. the compliance toes the wheels in an understeering direction which contributes to more manageable transient handling. Along with this, all power-steering Z/28 and SS Camaros have a special high-effort steering gear. High effort is not to be confused with increased road feel but it does reduce the tendency to overcorrect. The result of these two developments is a car of exceptional road handling—probably the best Detroit has ever produced. The transition as you enter a curve or change is ex­tremely predictable and this, combined with a low body roll angle, is the essence of good road handling. In more demanding situations, those which you would en­counter on a race track or perhaps on a road you had all to yourself, the Camaro is disappointing. It understeers heavily; sometimes you can trick it and get the tail out, sometimes you just have to slow down until the front tires regain their hold on the pavement. Never does it offer the driver very much road feel and never does it give him any confidence. The engineers admit being faced with a compromise, ultimate cornering ability or transients, and they chose the latter. And the driver’s lot is made even more difficult by the seat which is just the inverse of a bucket—a seat that is easier to fall out of than in to.

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