Kyle Busch’s slide in the Next Gen era has been a jaw-dropping plot twist in NASCAR’s recent storylines. For over a decade, Busch was the driver everyone feared, a chameleon who could tame any track, any car, with a blend of raw speed, fearless aggression, and an almost supernatural knack for reading a car’s limits. In the Gen 5 “Car of Tomorrow” and Gen 6 eras, he was untouchable, thriving on their hypersensitive handling that demanded elite car control. But the Gen 7 car, introduced in 2022, has flipped that script.

Its stiffer independent rear suspension, low-profile tires, and symmetrical body have dulled the feedback drivers like Busch once lived by, making it tougher to sense when the car’s about to break loose. The numbers tell a brutal story. Busch’s win totals and average finishes in the first two full Next Gen seasons pale compared to his Gen 6 heyday, when he racked up multiple wins and top-five averages yearly.

Where older cars rewarded his ability to flirt with disaster, the Gen 7 punishes that same boldness. If the rear steps out, there’s often no saving it. Busch himself has called the car “numb,” a sentiment echoed by fans and drivers who say it’s stripped away the soul of stock car racing. The lack of body roll and suspension means drivers get fewer cues about grip, turning every lap into a high-stakes gamble where mistakes are costlier than ever.

And now, Connor Zilisch, a rising star under Dale Earnhardt Jr.’s JR Motorsports banner, has joined the chorus of frustration. On a recent Door Bumper Clear podcast, he didn’t mince words, slamming the Next Gen as “super-stiff,” “numb,” and lacking “lateral grip.” He pointed out there’s “no roll” and “nothing to lean on,” mirroring Busch’s struggles. In the Gen 5 and Gen 6 days, Busch could feel a slide coming and correct it; now, the car gives no warning before snapping loose. That loss of tactile connection is a gut punch for drivers who built careers on reading a car through their seat rather than a data screen.

What makes Zilisch’s take stand out is his perspective as a young gun. Unlike veterans weighed down by old habits, Zilisch is supposed to be the future, adaptable, road-course savvy, and free from nostalgia. Yet even he calls the Gen 7 “very weird to drive” and says it keeps drivers “on edge at all times.” If a 19-year-old phenom with six Xfinity wins in 2025 can’t find a rhythm, it’s a glaring sign the car’s design is the issue, not just a veteran’s struggle to adapt.

For Busch, whose style was built on exploiting a car’s movement, the Gen 7’s rigidity is like trying to dance with a partner who won’t move. The Gen 7 was meant to level the playing field, but for drivers like Busch, it’s been a kryptonite that dulls their edge. While some have adjusted, the car’s numb feedback, sudden breakaways, and reduced tire sidewall have robbed NASCAR’s best of the ability to feel the car’s soul. Busch isn’t just fighting competitors; he’s battling a machine that doesn’t talk back, and fans are noticing, taking to Reddit to vent about how the Gen 7 has changed the sport they love.

Fans cry foul over the Gen 7’s shortcomings

The Reddit threads lit up with fans venting their frustration, zeroing in on the Gen 7’s lifeless handling as the root of NASCAR’s woes. One user captured the heart of the issue, saying, “There’s no roll… it’s just planted entirely… that roll helps the art form flow.” This hits at the core of the Gen 7’s stiffness, a complaint drivers like Busch and Zilisch have echoed. Fans point out the car feels “glued to the track,” with no body roll to give drivers a chance to correct a slide. Tyler Reddick noted in early testing that the car leans on mechanical grip, not aero, with a tiny margin for error: “you can’t get completely sideways.” That over-planted feel kills the dynamic, flowing style that made stock car racing an art, leaving fans longing for cars that move with the driver.

Another fan laid into the Gen 7’s lack of visual spark, lamenting, “…doesn’t look like you’re pushing it… go watch Xfinity… they’re throwing it around… even F1 still has something magical… Cup cars completely lack that.” The contrast is stark. Xfinity races burst with wheel-to-wheel action, while F1 delivers cinematic drama. A post-Watkins Glen poll showed 72% of fans found the Cup race dull, blaming the Gen 7’s rigid behavior. Observers say it’s less about driver skill and more about strategy, with the car’s design making passing a chore.

The complaints get more pointed, with one fan arguing, “…removed what made stock car racing fun… a bit more tire sidewall… some suspension travel… Even previous-gen had sidewall to pick up slack… this numbness is why drivers struggle… look at Kyle Busch or Jimmie Johnson.” The Gen 7’s low-profile tires and independent rear suspension offer less give than older setups, making the car less forgiving. Fans see this as why veterans like Busch and Johnson, who thrived on sensing grip through a car’s movement, now struggle.

One Reddit post cut deep, recalling Busch’s own words, “Kyle Busch once talked about… his literal b—cheek was the part giving him the most feedback… His performance in this car tells me it just doesn’t talk to the driver like the older cars.” Busch built his career on feeling the car through his seat, sensing a slide before it became a spin. The Gen 7’s muted cues leave him guessing, and his drop-off—fewer wins, worse finishes—shows a car that doesn’t communicate.

Finally, a fan summed up the high-stakes nature of the Gen 7, saying, “It’s on the brick spectrum. The lateral grip complaint makes sense… when it goes, it goes and no recovering it… not knowing where the edge is… isn’t fun.” Reddick’s own warning about the car being “on edge” rings true. Once it breaks loose, recovery is nearly impossible. Fans hate the uncertainty, where pushing too hard leads to instant disaster. That lack of a middle ground, no warning before the car snaps, drains the fun for drivers and spectators, leaving NASCAR’s Gen 7 feeling like a machine without a soul.