It was a brainy, brilliant, ballsy commercial for the C6 Corvette. There's a sub-teen kid behind the wheel, who made me think back to the kid I was, crouched behind the steering wheel of an animal owned by a friend of my father's. It stank of leather, was appointed by unfamiliar and exciting controls, and rocketed me into the subliminal just sitting there in the driveway.
Fifty years later, it's me in the driver's seat again, only this time the starship, the Corvette, rears up and goes wild, doing all the things you could imagine doing in it in the perfect dream. It leaps, it spins, it roars, it flies over stuff, with me, the kid, behind the wheel and in perfect control. The kid and the C6 don't scare anybody, don't hurt anybody, and sure make you want to play that daydream loop over and over again in your politically correct-sodden brain. Wow, what a wonderful escape from the stringent, let's-not-take-any-chances propriety that has become the model of modern life.
Sure, torque is beginning to roll off the rear wheels of other Chevys now, but what's with this politically correct bull gravy? Bring back the C6 episode now and make more just like them. Be damn proud of what you're doing. Tell the PC people as well as the cowards within to stuff it. The Other Side is ready to rip your guts out. Please don't help them do it. Start thinking sixties again.