You may know Mark Hamill as Luke Skywalker and Annie Potts as Janine Melnetz, but both managed to make a film together that was ten times more important than Star Wars and Ghostbusters combined: Corvette Summer. Sure, it only grossed around $15 million and almost no one living has seen it, but the story of a teen traveling the countryside with a prostitute-in-training in order to recapture his class project — a Corvette Stingray — in Las Vegas captures the nature of man better than anything else recorded on celluloid. Obviously, this is only a slight reimagning of Pucini's Madame Butterfly. But as great as this story is, it's no match for Tylinol's story of love and woe from the QOTD today, which asked what Wes should do with a Corvette ZR1.

I want to see him lose half of his hair and start to feel insecure in his masculinity. I want him to turn 40 and decide that owning a Corvette will give him his youth back. I want the smooth-talking salesman at the dealership to use performance statistics Wes doesn't even remotely understand (but has memorized for the purpose of bragging to his friends) to convince him that he NEEDS the $189,000 ZR1.

I want his wife to tell him that buying a $189,000 car on an Kentucky Carpet Salesman's salary is completely irresponsible, and that his attitude recently has made her start to reconsider their marriage. I want him to say fine, I'm a different man now and you're only holding me back from living my life. I want him to lose his house, his kids, and his dog. I want him to not care, because he got to keep the ZR1, and after all it's guaranteed to get you laid, right?

I want him to find out that when her Craigslist ad said "drug & disease free" she meant, "drug and disease free at the time of this writing". Oops.

I want him to go down to the race track on Friday Night to prove to everyone that he's a macho man with a macho car, just like that car salesman said. I want him to line up with a silver 911 GT2, and think to himself "Oh, I've got this. My ZR1 *mumbo jumbo performance figures*."

I want him to go around the first corner and discover that racing is scary, and difficult. I want him to take note that the 2009 911's taillights look slightly different than those of last year's model. I want him to lose to the GT2 by several seconds, and come to the crushing realization that just because GM Test Driver Guy can beat a 911 GT2 doesn't mean a Kentucky Carpet Salesman can, and that the ride in his ZR1 is really uncomfortable, and that bright blue is a really ugly color, and that he paid $88,000 too much for that thing, and that he never really even liked Corvettes in the first place.

And then I want him to turn his attention to the GT2 driver, who is stepping out of his car that his ex-wife? Yes, it is, and *wow* is she looking good tonight. Why didn't she ever dress up like that for him?
I want him to shake hands with the Forzieri-clad Porsche driver and bitterly accept his suggestion to "try again next week".

Nothing personal, Wes. I just like it when journalists really get into the character of the car they're reviewing.