1988 Chevrolet Corvette C4
|Season||This is my job now.|
|Air Date||June 15, 2015|
Oh, by George! Is that a Chevrolet Corvette with an automatic transmission? Indeed it is! Oh yes, to have your gears changed for you is so fancy! The cars knows what to do yes. My rectum is occupied by a roll of nickles.
This is the first of the reviews to describe a car as 'sew fawnseh' (sic), featuring RedskiHusky as a heavily-accented guest narrator, who returns, alongside multiple guests, in the 300ZX Z32 review, in which this car is described as no longer "fawnseh", because Mr. Regular's tastes have matured.
[AUDIO FADE IN, MR. REGULAR:] This is the most important Corvette generation of the whole bowtie V8 penis patriot lineage. --- INTRO SONG, THE ROMAN (please find original tune!) Pure speed, what’s there to fear, I got your Northeast Extension for you, right over here! I’ll give it to ya only with my consent, ‘Cause I’m not a crazy person, I just drive a Corvette! --- MONOLOGUE by MR REGULAR C4 – the car that tops off the pot of jealousy even today. Listen, without the C4, all your adorable McGuire’s-massaging, low-dicking, border-patrolling, sidewalk-facing, barstool-nodding, *rough, elderly voice* that’s what I’m talking about! -ing, “just as fast as a Porsche” talk wouldn’t happen without the C4, because the C4 represents the biggest jump in technology for the Corvette. I mean, look at the C3! As sexy as it looks in retrospect, and as cool as it sounds while idling, *C3 idling* it was a dragging anchor on the ship of progress! Yes, I hear you, yes, the final year of the C3 had a body kit which had a better drag coefficient than the C4, but the C3 was a single-story pickup artist reeking of carburation and- yes, yes, I know all about the not-at-all rare crossfire-injecting splatter disaster that some C3s had, but they were often chucked for carburettors faster than a Chardonnay drunk mom leaps up from the table the moment the wedding DJ plays ‘Cotton-Eyed Joe’. Look at this huge clamshell hood, lifting up and revealing the front suspension wheels sitting alone, in the open, like an F1 car! AND OH… OH YEAH! DIGITAL GAUGES! *reverb* Abeebbopbeeopboopbeeboop! Real fart! *echoed fart* [TEXT: Real fart.] Wait. Wait, it doesn’t work? What, they’re not even real?! This…this fancy gauge… it’s just a colour overlay! And it gets burnt-out because the sun shines on it and melts all the colours together like a rainbow bukkake! But the C4 doesn’t smell like gas on the inside, and even though you have to sit a little sideways, because of the big tranny tunnel – oh, and by the way, ‘Tranny Tunnel’ was the name of the first porn film I worked on with craft service. It was a period piece set during the Underground Railroad era, and believe me, erotic abolitionism was the second most offensive thing about TRANNY TUNNEL. [TEXT: TRANNY TUNNEL // (slanted, in red) They’re more than wives and they’re running for their lives!] Also, most of the C4s you’re gonna find on Craigslist will be automatics, because when the C4 landed in 1984, automatic transmissions were still seen as a luxurious and prestigious option. --- [Both MR. REGULAR and REDSKIHUSKY speaking in upper-class, ‘fawnseh’ accent] [REDSKIHUSKY:] So fancy! [TEXT: So fancy!] [MR. REGULAR:] Sew fawnseh! (sic) [REDSKIHUSKY:] So fancy! [MR. REGULAR:] Oh, sew fawnseh! [REDSKIHUSKY:] Oh, it’s so fancy. [MR. REGULAR:] Sew fawnseh! [TEXT: Sew fawnseh.] [REDSKIHUSKY:] Quite right, it’s so fancy. [MR. REGULAR:] Sew fawnseh. [REDSKIHUSKY:] I drive an automatic Corvette, and it’s so fancy! [MR. REGULAR:] Ooh! [REDSKIHUSKY:] I wouldn’t bother changing my gears, it’s so 1970s! Automatic is in vogue right now, don’t you know? [MR. REGULAR:] Sew fawnseh! [TEXT: Sew // Fawn // sehhh] [REDSKIHUSKY:] It’s so fancy, I’ll need a second monocle! [MR. REGULAR:] Ooh, Hartford, Connecticut! --- MONOLOGUE by MR REGULAR Yeah, there was no model year in 1983. No Corvettes were made in ’83. C4 delays caused General Motors not to release a 1983 ‘Vette. But they planned to release it, I mean they- the- always had Corvette’s plan to release it, but since so much of the technology was unproven, they couldn’t launch the C4 until 1984. And if you want some crazy facts here, they did build Corvettes in ’83: they built 43 of them, but none of those cars were sold in ’83, because California legislation was high on it’s own significance, and voted at the eleventh hour for more strict emissions regulations. General Motors wasn’t ready for those new requirements in the C4, so they pushed the C4 sales out to January of ’84, so they could meet the new dick move laws. C4s are cheap now. They’re the cheapest ones you can buy. In Pennsylvania, everybody knows a Patrick Murphy, and many people know someone who’s driven a Corvette and won’t shut up about it. From 1984 through 1988, the Corvette was available with a Doug Nash 4+3 transmission, which was a four-speed manual coupled to an automatic overdrive on the top three gears. This enabled Corvette to add an overdrive while keeping the four-speed tranny, because everybody at the VFW holds a certain reverence for four-on-the-floor. The automatic overdrive is in second, third, and fourth gears, but it was eventually replaced with a six-speed manual, making the Doug Nash 4+3 a sort of Carmen Sandiego rarity. This allowed the 5.7 litre or 350 cubic-inch L98 V8 to be enjoyed by guys who can handle manual gearboxes but can’t see why kids love Cinnamon Toast Crunch. 1988 Corvette C4 – the official car of watching Hannah Minx videos on mute. This is the car for the secret softy, the sensitive man who shouldn’t be ashamed of it, because real men cry on the hoods of their Corvettes. His favourite part of sex is the pillow talk, and he lets his girlfriend play with his prostate a little, but the guys at the poker game don’t have to know. Mmm! Naturally, the Corvette is a brand of tremendous character. You look at an AMC Pacer or a Geo Metro, and you think, “There’s a guy who thinks the best part of Final Fantasy 7 is when you challenge some buff dude to a squatting contest so you can win a cheap wig and dress up as a whore to trick a fat mafia don.” But with an average Corvette, there’s an unmistakable appearance. You don’t tell your girlfriend “You’re beautiful to me”, because it’s redundant, you tell her, “You’re beautiful”, and you say the same thing to an old Corvette – “You’re beautiful, damn you, you’re an old bird, but you’re as beautiful and fresh to me AS THE DAY I PUT MYSELF INSIDE YOU.” At least, that’s how it should be, ideally. But, well, it’s not here on the C4. While this is a car of savage efficiency and driveability, it leaves something to be desired in that all-important looks department. Frankly, it looks just like a Corvette. It’s a classic, sure, but there’s no excess here. There’s lots of innovation under the hood, but the body style is… muted. This is exactly what a Corvette kid would have designed a Corvette to look like in the 80s, because this is the kind of look that was privileged. The car is set low, sure, but the sense of aesthetic priority is higher off the ground than Yao Ming’s dick. And yet, there’s something to be said for the lack of brand dignity today versus back then. Corvette picked the look, and they’ve largely stuck to the C4’s look. This is the car that defined what a Corvette looks like. This was the age when you put the word ‘computer’ on the dash, and it meant something. There’s a reason that Corvettes are still a commodity today in a way’s (sic) other cars aren’t. It’s because there’s a uniform aesthetic, an exclusivity, and elitism that prevents the brand from ever feeling truly regular, but it also keeps it attainable to anybody who can work hard enough to afford one. Then again, while it’s a commodity in ways most other cars aren’t, Corvettes also bring out the argumentative side in enthusiasts like few cars can do, with the exception of Callaway, most tuner guys HATE Corvettes, and I’ve never heard a good reason outside, “Ooh, there’s so much displacement, hardly makes any power, ehh, Random Access Memories was the first Daft Punk album I listened to.” I blame the internet. I blame it for the instant feedback that condemns certain opinions to the gutter before they can even get a chance to breathe. But if I do that, I am condemning the means by which Regular Car Reviews exists. But even then, cars are so much more a heated business than before among the public, and especially Corvettes. They’re like Radiohead or The Pixies or Nirvana or the Beastie Boys: you’re not allowed to hate them without catching a proverbial firestorm at your doorstep. Whatever happened to respectful disagreement? Upvote and downvote culture reduces arguments to enthusiastic agreement or GO DIE IN A WHORING ACCIDENT! [TEXT: Go die in a whoring accident!] And it’s especially intense in car culture. Hell, we probably encounter this sort of thing in everyday conversation, even if we weren’t putting our criticisms on YouTube for the world to see. You criticise a Corvette, and you get the two extremes of disagreement: defenders either misspell everything in a passive-aggressive lower case manifesto, or they just put on caps lock, so everyone knows how hard they’re punching the keys. Uh oh, things are getting a bit case sensitive! [TEXT: Case Sensitive] Of course, we don’t shy away from criticism - if anything, we embrace it – and car enthusiasts should too, no matter what they own. Don’t get sucked into ‘it’s either all okay or none of it’s okay’. Reject the modern age where feedback is an instant. But in the margins, there are still outposts of modern criticism. So, the 1988 Corvette C4 – the chariot for the modern digital age. It existed during the proto-Internet and the young digital Turks who were shaping the world we know it today were driving these back in the day. Even if your K20 brain can’t understand it, your ass deserves to sit in one, and understand the vehicle. Champion this entire mess, including the computer you’re watching this on. Have a good week. --- OUTRO SONG by THE ROMAN I hate my friend’s Instagram, he makes the ball, I forgot he posts all the good times, but never posts struggle, I really like your car, and your wife looks kinda nice, I can’t imagine a single bad bone in her body unless it’s mine… ‘Cause it’s half-past time. ---