Recently, the missus and I decided that we needed to disconnect from the world for a bit. We tend to do autumn vacations because she gets “fall break” from work and I usually have a pretty good gap of time between what is now Holley’s Ford Festival and the SEMA show. We wanted to go somewhere, anywhere. Las Vegas made sense due to SEMA, but the prices for hotels were so exorbitant that we decided to look elsewhere. We tossed up going to Yellowstone or to Savannah, Georgia but ultimately took a safe, known play and went to the Smoky Mountains. For the most part, we just enjoyed the cabin in the woods (with hot tub, because of course) and some excellent food. I only had two requests: that our cabin be “well in the woods” and that we rent a Polaris Slingshot and go roaming around the curving ribbons of asphalt. What can I say, I’m spoiled…our cabin required four-wheel-drive to get to and you’re getting this review because, frankly, I was blown away by just how much I enjoyed this little beast.

A quick rundown on the Slingshot’s basics: it’s a three-wheeled “autocycle” that is powered, in the case of pre-2020 models, is powered by a 2.4L Ecotec inline-four sourced from General Motors. 173 horsepower and 166 ft-lb of torque sound kind of meek, right up until you remember that this thing weighs about half as much as the Pontiac Solstice that powerplant was raided from. The Ecotec’s power is pushed through an Aisin AR-5 five-speed out through a belt-drive to the single rear wheel. The interior is pretty much on-par for anyone familiar with the interior of a RZR: the tub body has enough space for two people, with two cubby boxes behind the seats, a steering wheel last seen on a Cozy Coupe, and oddly enough, a Bluetooth sound system. In the case of the one we rented, we also had an aftermarket exhaust system that made the Ecotec sound like a pissed-off Chevy Cobalt SS.

Aside from my phone syncing up to the Bluetooth sound system with the wrong song cued up (which treated everybody scrambling for their rented rides to the explicit chorus of “I’m Only Joking” by Kongos), the acquisition of our rented ride was simple enough: no dirt trails, don’t chase the wildlife, and any ticket you get is all on you. Fill it up when you’re done, and have fun. After the usual two minutes of figuring out where the clutch pedal was happiest and how the controls would respond, we were off to roam around the forests.

Any concerns that the Slingshot would be a torture chamber after twenty minutes went completely out of the window. So long as you’re smart enough to wear a full-face helmet in something that can easily run at Interstate speeds and you’re dressed for the weather, you’re good. The Ecotec, unburdened from all of the excess baggage, is a lively little thing, one that actively pleads to be cut loose. The few times I had roads open enough to do so, I went for it and the Polaris would simply book in the direction pointed. Once the roads got twisty the Slingshot’s true nature started to shine through: it’s a corner carver that’s happiest at 7/10ths. If you want true track-attack mode, go find a Honda S2000 that’s wound tighter than a chihuahua that needs to be let outside. The Polaris is in fine form sweeping through curves at a grand touring pace, fast enough to be fun but not fast enough to bother the tires any. The Aisin box is a joy to row through, both up and down, and the brakes proved to be plenty adequate for the run to Clingman’s Dome and back.

After four-plus hours of road touring, I found myself loving the Slingshot. But the real question is this: does it qualify as a car replacement or a toy? Haley and I talked about that for a while, and we came to this conclusion: if I still lived in Arizona, in a place where open-top motoring was available most of the year with ease, the Slingshot has a chance of being a neat little commuter, a funky alternative to a econobox if you will. But don’t expect it to be truly frugal (we saw about 22 mpg during our stint), don’t expect it to hide in plain sight, and don’t expect the cops to ignore you. Where we live, the Polaris could only be a sunny-day driver at best, and that equals “toy”. Suddenly, the Miata, or the S2000, or the Solstice make a lot more sense.

I don’t want to disparage the Slingshot any. This might be the first vehicle I’ve driven in years that I could call “cheerful”. This thing was like a puppy…it wanted to get rambunctious and play everywhere it went and you couldn’t help but love it for that reason alone. It had the perfect amount of power for what anyone could or should intend to do with one. If you’re looking for a ripper, move along. What the Slingshot does is give you a feeling for that old-school small convertible feel, the kind British roadster enthusiasts go on and on about. Small, peppy engine, good handling, just enough gadgets to keep you sane, a proper manual trans, and the feeling like the world all around you is open. We could smell the grass, the creeks, the leaves. We could hear the water rushing uninterrupted, see every little crevice in the asphalt. The wind rushed around us, the view was spectacular, and the driving joy amplified the experience. That’s the Slingshot’s party trick.

But damned if I would want to drive one on the Interstate. Screw that.