Take a Porsche on this route through Ohio, West Virginia, and Virginia proper, as I've done many times, and you'll be alternately ignored, sneered at, and stared down.A Nissan GT-R brings out the otaku and the PlayStation crowd, but their primary mission is to make sure you understand that they know more about the car than you do. You might be the possessor of the GT-R, but the car actually belongs to them, the true fans.
"So, did you Accessport the clutch pressure to six or seven?"
"Ah, um, six, seven, whatever it takes."
"I see." And then the Look that informs you that you have no business driving an R35 Sky-anything. It's a club, and not even the owners are guaranteed entry.
The membership of the Corvette fan club, on the other hand, includes everyone. Children hang out of the back windows of pickups to hear you rev the engine. Young women smile; older ones wink. In Dublin, Ohio, a G37 stopped behind me in a parking lot and two buffed-out guys jumped out to look through the Vette's windows. When I suggested they sit in it and rev the engine, they looked like children who suspected some kind of catch. After, Thing 1 said to Thing 2, "I'll own one of those if I have to wait till I'm 40 years old." Whoa. Not 40 years old.