Corvette Z06 Convertible UK Review: A Magnificent Muscled Flawless Supercar

I took the Corvette Z06 Convertible on a week-long tour through the rolling hills and winding lanes of southern England, the sort of countryside where Aston Martins usually rule the roost. From the chalky cliffs of Sussex to the winding backroads of Surrey, the Z06 devoured every mile with theatrical flair. The highlight? A sunset wine tasting at the Roebuck Estates Vineyard, where the golden light glinted off its sculpted lines as elegantly as the sparkling rosé in my glass. It was less a road trip and more a travelling performance—equal parts supercar symphony and grand English escapade.

Corvette Z06 Review: The Most Flawless Supercar Ever

The Corvette Z06 isn’t merely a supercar. It is the Platonic ideal of one. Aristotle would nod approvingly, Nietzsche would growl something about will to power, and Plato himself would sigh in relief that humanity had finally nailed the form. Think four-wheeled primal scream. The sound of America booting down Europe’s wine cellar door, knocking back a bottle of Bordeaux, and shouting: “Hold my Budweiser.”

Behold the Checklist of Testosterone

The checklist of testosterone is irresistible. Zero to sixty-two in just 3.1 seconds, arches so muscular they practically flex at traffic lights, a mid-mounted engine visible from space, paintwork in that glorious shade of mid-life crisis red, and looks that scream “don’t mess with me.” Step inside and you’ll find an interior stitched together with the tears of Bentley owners, face-tearing acceleration that feels like being launched from an aircraft carrier, road holding that’s almost supernatural, Track and Drag modes that beg to be abused, and cockpit controls that are actually where you want them rather than buried in an iPad designed by an overpaid intern. It even comes with a spoiler large enough to serve a Sunday roast on.

I wanted to savage it, to find some weakness I could pick apart and look clever doing it. But I can’t. It’s flawless. Maddeningly so. I dug for faults with the manic persistence of a conspiracy theorist hunting for lizard people, but all I came up with was one tiny niggle—and you’ll have to wait until the end for that morsel of schadenfreude.

The Z06 belongs in the same whispered conversations as Ferraris, Lamborghinis, and McLarens—except it’s built better than the Italians and carries less hedge-fund cliché than the Brits.

ENGINEERING BRUTALITY WITH A SMOOTH EDGE

Under the rear deck sits a 5.5-litre LT6 flat-plane crank DOHC V8. It’s naturally aspirated—no turbos, no superchargers, no fake whistling noises piped through the speakers. Just raw, glorious combustion. It produces 637 bhp in Europe (emissions stranglers lopped off a few horses compared with the American version’s 670). It still launches you from zero to sixty-two in 3.1 seconds and on to a top speed of 186 mph, devours the quarter mile in 10.6 seconds at 131 mph, and comes with the neat party trick of raising itself forty millimetres at up to 24 mph so you can glide over speed bumps without ploughing the tarmac.

A QUICK HISTORY LESSON (FOR THE UNCOUTH)

The Z06 badge was born in 1963 when Zora Arkus-Duntov—the father of the Corvette—devised a way to sneak race-spec parts past GM’s corporate ban on racing. Bigger tanks, stronger brakes, tuned suspension, more power—it was essentially a cheat code for track dominance. The Z06 returned in 2001 and has been the hardcore Corvette ever since. By 2025, it has evolved from cheeky rebel to apex predator.

LOOKS: LIKE EVERY SUPERCAR HAD A BABY

The Z06 looks like every toy supercar you ever cherished as a child melted together into one glorious rocket. It’s the silhouette of speed, Plato’s shadow on the wall. The raised front haunches keep you perfectly aligned in your lane. The cockpit is part Spitfire, part B-21 Raider. The rear is Beyoncé incarnate—large, unapologetic, hypnotic. Aerodynamic layers, spoilers, ducts and muscle lines make it more aggressive than a sabre-toothed tiger on espresso, while side intakes trimmed in gloss black cut into the body like Cleopatra’s eyeliner. The bonnet ripples menacingly, like the skin of a hypersonic missile. The styling may borrow its flair from Europe, but the muscle is pure, unapologetic America.

INTERIOR: THE LUXURY MAN-CAVE

Step inside and you’re enveloped in stitched leather and carbon fibre that would make Bentley nervous, yet everything is focused purely on the driver. And—praise be—there are real buttons. Proper physical controls lined neatly along the centre console. True, it intrudes slightly into the passenger’s space, but this is a supercar, not a limousine. They should simply be grateful you gave them a lift.

The eight-way GT1 seats come in supple Mulan leather. The convertible roof folds away with the grace of a galleon lowering its sails. The windscreen demister works faster than a sneeze. The steering wheel is squared-off, odd to look at but glorious in the hand. Modes range from My Personal and Tour to Sport and Track, and in Track mode the engine sounds like Pavarotti being tasered. And yes, there’s space—actual usable space. You won’t need a yoga instructor to get in or out, even with the roof down.

PERFORMANCE: PURE LUNACY, BUT FRIENDLY

The Z06 is a track weapon dressed in road-going clothes. Carbon ceramic brakes provide brutal stopping power, the Michelin Pilot Sport Cup 2 tyres grip like a toddler with a biscuit, and the magnetic suspension adapts quicker than a politician facing questions.

Despite being rear-wheel drive, the car is never terrifying. Slide the back out and it obediently returns, like a well-trained Labrador. None of that heart-stopping hedge-bound drama other supercars seem to specialise in. The chassis is rigid yet supple, the eight-speed dual clutch is silk in Tour and steel in Track, and the manual paddles are exactly where you want them. At 1.7 tonnes it’s substantial, but it moves with the agility of a dancer. And when the rain inevitably arrives, Weather mode reins in the lunacy just enough to keep you alive.

Corvette openly admit they reverse-engineered Ferrari’s 458 V8, then “improved” it. That’s like taking a Stradivarius and adding Bluetooth—and somehow making it better.

PRESENCE ON THE ROAD

The Corvette Z06 confuses the public. People squint and frown. “Is it a Ferrari? A McLaren?” they whisper as you glide past. Leave them wondering. It’s a supercar ninja—stealthy in badge, devastating in impact.

And it’s surprisingly comfortable. This is a supercar you could genuinely drive every day. Just don’t expect fuel economy better than 14 mpg unless you’re coasting downhill in neutral with a tailwind.

PARTY TRICKS & QUIRKS

The Z button transforms everything into a track-ready lunatic at the touch of a thumb. Pull both paddles to bypass the rev limiter and unleash the full soundtrack at the lights—a party trick guaranteed to turn teenage TikTokkers into lifelong petrolheads. The roof folds with such operatic drama it deserves an Oscar. There’s also a superb, clear HUD which means that alll the frightening information is right in front of you. Plus, the rear window rolls down so you can hear the engine growl with the roof up.

And the only flaw? When you put it in park, it rolls about an inch forward or back. That’s it. The tiniest flaw in an otherwise flawless machine.

Corvette Z06: America’s Loud, Ridiculous, Perfect Supercar

The Corvette Z06 is a masterpiece. Naturally aspirated fury. Razor-sharp handling. Luxury inside. Theatrical outside. It is, quite literally, too good. My only real complaint is existential: if this is perfection, where on earth do we go from here?

We even shot a full six-page fashion editorial around it with superstar model Poppy—including the front cover. Because when a car looks this good, you don’t just drive it. You put it in Vogue. Passing McLaren HQ, near where I live, I saw their drivers turn to stare. Which tells you everything.

This car is too good. It’s a daily driver. It’s a track monster. It’s a Ferrari alternative that doesn’t make people think you’re compensating. Everyone in the UK is mystified by it. They squint, guess, and get it wrong. And then you’re gone.

At £179,791 from Arnold Clark in the UK, it is frankly absurd value. In a world where people pay more for a Range Rover with vegan leather, this is daylight robbery. A Ferrari-beating, Lamborghini-taunting, McLaren-worrying slice of perfection.

So yes, the Corvette Z06 is America’s homage to Europe. A symphony of noise, speed, and sheer magnificence. And I want one. Immediately.

Corvette Z06 at Arnold Clark