2025 Chevrolet Corvette Stingray UK Review: American Genius

Back in the late days of Clarkson, Hammond and May-era Top Gear, there was a news section in which the trio discussed the imminent arrival of the Ford Mustang as a right-hand drive car in the UK. For the life of me, finding that exact clip seems impossible, but if memory serves me right, the discussion goes along the lines of it losing the American novelty when the wheel sits on the correct side of the car.

That largely didn’t turn out to be the case, with the Stateside icon proving itself to be quite a wonderful thing with an official place on our market. All of that was ringing through my head when peering over a Corvette with its steering wheel placed on the right-hand side of the car.

Ok, the C8 Chevrolet Corvette has been made in right-hand drive for quite a few years now for the Australian market, but hasn’t officially been on sale in the UK. If you wanted one, you’d have to go through an importer – and at that point, you’re buying a Corvette because, well, you want a Corvette.

It’s now officially on sale in the UK, though, which means we can assess it not just as a niche slice of Americana that you’d jump hoops through to experience, but as a genuinely compelling option in the sports car market. Something you might actually want to buy over a Porsche 911, or a Mercedes-AMG GT.

Stateside, the appeal is clear. Buy a Stingray Convertible like the one I’m driving here, and that’ll cost from $78,995 (before you include tax and all that gubbins), which puts it at an incredible $53,305 cheaper than a base hardtop 911 Carrera, and about another $10,000 for a cabriolet. A proper exotic car, at not all that exotic prices.

Here in the UK, though, that’s quite a different story. Starting at £105,890, as tested with its Rapid Blue paint, 20-inch wheels and some carbon interior trim, this car costs £110,103. That Carrera Cab? £113,700. You can throw that value proposition out the window.

What about performance, then? On paper, it sounds like a good ol’ American lump, with its 6.2-litre naturally-aspirated LT2 V8 producing 475bhp and 452lb ft in emissions-strangled EU spec, dropping those figures by 15bhp and 13lb ft compared with the US spec. 

It’s quite a clever unit, though, using a flatplane plank as European V8s often do instead of the ‘Murica staple crossplane. Oh, and cylinder deactivation, which will give you a neat little readout on the dash telling you when you’re pootling around in four-cylinder mode and saving fuel.

Not that you’ll want to pootle around often. On paper, the Corvette Stingray is said to be capable of 0-62mph in 3.5 seconds and go on to 184mph in drop-top form. Neither of those figures could really be tested on damp September roads in Northamptonshire, but I can relay how visceral that feels.

At full chat, the LT2 sings to a strange but wonderful harmony of an American muscle car that’s just returned from a gap year in Sicily. Deep, raw, but with a high note that nothing else in its segment today can compete with. Nothing in the segment compares, truthfully.

It’s technically impressive, too. Throttle response is instantaneous, and the eight-speed dual-clutch gearbox is decisive and quick with its changes. You’re expecting me to caveat this with a big ‘but’ when it comes to handling now, right? Delightfully, no. 

Off the bat, I’ll tell you it’s not as sharp or intuitive as a Porsche 911 can offer. The steering does feel a touch more numb than a Carrera, and you do feel much of its near 1.8-tonne kerbweight, yet it’s no boat.

With its mid-engined layout and 50/50 weight distribution, it almost feels as if you’re pivoting the whole car on its front end, like taking over the shopping trolley. Communication through the wheel is good, understeer virtually non-existent, and the car keen to oversteer if you provoke it enough.

It’s let down a little by its ride. Its softest settings are a little too wallowy – no surprise, given it’s a car many Floridians take to a golf club. Turn the ante up and it goes a little too much the other way for UK roads though, with it quite easily unsettled by inconsistent road surfaces and knocking your confidence a little on anything other than a buttery smooth bit of tarmac. 

The real drawbacks compared with its European rivals aren’t its driving experience at all. While the interior does feel nicely put together, the material quality just isn’t on par with the German alternatives or even something like a Jaguar F-Type. Its huge line of buttons (which US cars have just dropped) looks a bit naff, to be honest, too, and isn’t the easiest thing to use whilst driving, given you’ll often have to drag your eyes away from the road to see it.

Another thing I can’t wrap my head around is the driving position. It’s Tonka-esque in the seat’s lowest setting, which, with about eight acres of dashboard between you and the windscreen, doesn’t do much as a sports car. An inch or two of extra bottom-end adjustment would do wonders here.

Those compromises are something you wouldn’t even consider if you look at the US price differentials between the C8 and anything of its performance bracket, but are enough to knock it down a peg or two on our shores. 

Yet, the C8 Corvette Stingray feels like a more compelling alternative to a 911 or AMG GT than I’d anticipated. Its sound alone would be enough to sell it, but it has the dynamic capabilities to match too. Just as the Ford Mustang proved, it’s not just a novelty. 

Sure, a 911 will feel nicer Monday to Friday, but the ‘Vette will be more special come Saturday and Sunday. It’s just a case of which is more important to you.