2016 Chevrolet Camaro SS vs 2016

Ford Mustang GT: Old War, New

Warriors
The latest duel between longtime rivals.

Richard Pardon
BY RICHARD PINTO
CHEROKEE LEGEND SAYS THE APPALACHIAN hills were created after the waters
of a colossal flood receded and the Great Buzzard, tired and flying low, struck the soft
ground with his wings. The flapping in the mud dug the hollers and formed the hills.
We're slicing through this territory, fall leaves flying in our wake, to write the next
installment of another old tale: Camaro versus Mustang.

PHOTOS: 2016 Chevy Camaro SS vs 2016 Ford Mustang GT

The pony-car war has been going on for nearly 50 years, an eternity in our world of
ephemeral marketing, but it's never been as interesting as it is right now. The new Camaro
SS, lighter than before, faces a restyled Mustang GT that debuted just last year with a vastly
improved suspension. Both Michigan-made machines pack powerful V8s, but they're clearly

engineered for more than revving at red lights. They want to chase each other through
switchbacks and pivot through hairpins. So, we left the gridlines of Michigan behind for the
Chattahoochee-Oconee and Cherokee National Forests, which straddle the spine of
Appalachia through Georgia, Tennessee, and North Carolina. On the map, the roads in these
parts appear to have been inked by a drunken tattoo artist during an 8.4-magnitude shaker.
They include the famous Tail of the Dragon, the most notorious curvy road in the country.
"The Tail is actually the worst stretch," says associate editor and third-generation
Knoxvillian Zach Bowman.
Richard Pardon
People down here seem to like pony cars. Or one of them, at least. We can hardly stop for
gas without having to confirm for a crowd that, yes, this is the new Mustang. No one has
anything to say about the Camaro SS. That's probably because from 10 feet away, it looks
just like the one it replaces. Ford designers worked harder than their Chevy counterparts to
breathe new life into old cues. The Mustang's vertical three-bar taillights, for instance, look
like they came out of a 3-D printer, whereas the Camaro's traditional horizontal lights are, as
ever, flat pieces of plastic.
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Maybe, though, it's just the gravity of the 9.6 million Mustangs built since 1964, twice the
number of Camaros. If you haven't owned one, you know someone who has. Bemused by the
Mustang's popularity, I point out the Camaro to a woman in her midfifties who'd wandered
over to admire the Mustang while leaving the nozzle pumping in her F-150. "I like Fords,"
she smiles back from behind her big hair.
Too bad for her, because under the Camaro's familiar faade is an emphatically different car.
A switch to Cadillac's light and rigid Alpha platform cuts the Camaro's curb weight to 3760,
down about 150 pounds from the last-gen model. If the outgoing Camaro was a two-door
Chevy SS, the new one is an ATS-V coupe with a V8 option.
Richard Pardon
The interior is not quite a Cadillac's but has nonetheless made huge strides. Two analog
gauges and the general shape of the instrument panel are the only reminders of the old
Camaro. A configurable digital screen between the speedometer and tachometer can display
navigation directions, more gauges, and vehicle settings. The center screen that controls the
radio and navigation system is tilted downward, like a flat-screen television on a failing wall
mount. Presumably done to cut down on glare, it looks odd, even if the screen is responsive
and easy to use. Metal bezels on center heating and air-conditioning vents turn to adjust the
temperature. Very elegant. Very Audi.
Traffic through the Tail of the Dragon is remarkably heavy for midweek. Temperatures in
the high 70s have brought out flocks of Softtail Fat Boys, who lean clumsily through 318
curves, their throbbing songs carrying down hill and dale.
Our rides play nicer tunes. You can get a turbo four or a V6 in both the Camaro and
Mustang, but you don't want them for the same reason you don't drink nonalcoholic beer
even if the flavor's close, the point is lost.
Richard Pardon

The Camaro's 6.2-liter V8 comes straight from the Corvette with a healthy 455 hp and 455
lb-ft of torque. It sounds every bit as good here as in the Corvette; just tick the dual-mode
exhaust ($895) option. A push of the mode selector behind the shifter swings open the flaps
in the exhaust, changing the volume from quiet to riot.
With twice as many valves and four times as many camshafts, the 435-hp 5.0-liter Coyote
V8 in the Mustang nearly matches the Camaro's oomph. Thrust comes on early and doesn't
taper off, even at the 7000-rpm redline. But Ford smothers its V8 melody. Pony cars should
celebrate the V8; every kick of the accelerator pedal should make you want to find an
American flag to salute. Show me your power, Coyote! I want to hear you. I want to feel you.
But, no: In the Mustang, I'm the guy at the Who concert wearing earplugs.
The Dragon spits us out onto faster and relatively empty Route 143 in North Carolina. We
follow the jagged shoreline of Lake Santeetlah, formed when a hydroelectric dam stopped up
the Cheoah River in 1928. Speeds rise and the poplars and hemlocks blur. Time to pay
attention.
Richard Pardon
Especially since it's still tough to see anything outside the Camaro. Not the sky, not the
treetops, and, in the rearview, not the Monroe County, Georgia, sheriff's Dodge Charger
that's following us. But this Camaro reacts like a smaller and lighter car. Communication
through the small-diameter steering wheel is as clear and detailed as in the ATS-V. The ride
is a wonder. Magnetorheological shocks, offered for the first time on the SS, tighten as you
progress through the drive modes, from recliner comfy to qualifyingly stiff. Commit to a
corner and the Camaro hunkers down, grips, and pounds its way to the exit. On the skidpad,
there's nearly a g of cling. If there's body roll, I don't notice.
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The eight-speed automatic gearbox shifts with the smoothness and quickness of a dualclutch transmission. In Sport and Track modes, it's so aggressive and smart you'll think the
ghost of Mark Donohue is taking over. (Don't worry, you can still get a stick.)
By the time we stop for lunch in the old logging hamlet of Tellico Plains, Tennessee, it's
obvious the Mustang, even with the Performance package, can't match the easy composure
of the Camaro. There's more slop in the suspension. Contact patches feel smaller, as if
someone put too much air in the tires. There's less interaction between the tires and the
steering, too, and the nose doesn't leap to apexes as eagerly. It all feels slower and less
connected than in the Camaro. Turn, pause, wait for the chassis to take a set.
Richard Pardon
Brakes? Ford trumps Chevy. The Performance package binders bite hard and never tire. The
Camaro stops just fine but lacks the pedal feel of the Mustang. We also love the Ford's
manual gearbox, which accepts quick shifts without a peep from the syncros. There's magic
in the connection between the engine and transmission that our auto-equipped Camaro
can't replicate, especially since taps of the paddles behind its steering wheel often go
unanswered.
But if we're going to eat forest in either of these two, we're more likely to do so in the
Mustang. Bowman can't believe that a car that felt so right last year is now "loose and
wallowy."

After two days driving over the relief left behind by the Great Buzzard, there's no doubt the
Camaro, with its Cadillac platform and Corvette engine, is the thoroughbred of its class. We
can't believe it. The Camaro is almost too composed. The balance is sublime. It's refined and
exciting. Has this once fat lout of a car become a bona fide sports car?
Did that just happen?
It happened.
Road and Track