Car and Driver: At this price, possibly the best sports car on the planet.
On the highway and in traffic, the 370Z is one Z-licious companion. From rest, the car rolls away elegantly, asking for a mere handful of revs above idle. Clutch takeup is predictable, and the shifter’s throws are so short and smooth that your forearm barely moves. Power manifests as low as 1900 rpm and flows in one great, seamless rush to redline, with no discernible variable-valve step. Brake-pedal travel is minimal, taut, linear. And the structure feels as solid as a Porsche 911’s, issuing exactly zero rattles or squeaks. The steering is a little heavy but is always accurate, quick, yet never nervous. Aim for a pebble at an apex, and you can place the inside front tire atop it. Select a path through a sweeper, and no further corrections are required. Over scabrous pavement, the 370Z tracks better than its predecessor, and it has a locomotive’s sense of straight-ahead. Brain-damaged text messagers will be in heaven— that’s how long you can take your hands off the wheel.
In the hills, the 370Z is simply BMW-ish in the manner its engine and transmission talk to each other. Jump in or out of the throttle, and there’s no jolt, no windup, no neck snap. Revs build and dissipate rapidly but without notice. The car eagerly establishes a soothing driving rhythm, such that glancing at the speedometer always produces a shock. When did we get going this fast? That’s a surefire sign of sedulous engineering.
The best sports car on the planet for the money? Damn right.