Before I go any further in describing the new range of Dodge Chargers, let me say this one thing: the SRT 392 version is enough – much more than enough, unless you are a certifiable lunatic. With 485hp on tap, why could anyone wish for more power in a four-door saloon? It’s quite capable of rinsing almost anything at the lights, it will liquidise its rear tyres if you want it to and it looks and sounds better than practically any other muscle car on the planet right now. I’m currently trying to work out how I could have one in my own parking spot – it really is that good.
But somebody out there, who surely must have escaped from a high-security facility, thought: “Screw that, let’s make a Charger that produces 707hp and then we’ll sell it to the public.” That, ladies and gentlemen, is the Hellcat in a nutshell.
Sometimes it’s good to get the opinions of your contemporaries when it comes to solidifying your own take on something and, when it comes to the Charger Hellcat, I’m obviously in good company. “It really shouldn’t exist, but I’m glad that it does,” is a comment I hear several times during my time with the car – and it pretty much sums up my feelings about it. Because 707hp is an insane figure, even in something like a Lamborghini Aventador or a Ferrari F12 (the Lambo is actually outgunned by this mental American) – but in a saloon that can carry all the family and associated detritus? It doesn’t bear thinking about.
Has the world gone power mad in the past few months? It would appear so, especially now that saloon cars are imbued with performance potential that used to be the preserve of only the craziest supercars. It started in the late 1970s and early 80s with tuned German machinery such as Alpina BMWs and AMG Mercs (before Mercedes-Benz bought the company), and has continued unabated ever since, with models like Audi’s RS6 and BMW’s M5 becoming true petrolhead icons, despite their four doors and capacious rear seats. But American cars, until very recently, never could cut it with the Europeans, because they couldn’t, to put it politely, corner very well.
Yet here we are, at Summit Point Raceway in West Virginia – a tight, challenging and scenically beautiful racing circuit that was once Paul Newman’s playground – and I’m strapping on a helmet so that I can pummel the asphalt with 707 wild horses galloping through just the rear tyres of perhaps the ultimate American muscle car. I’ve driven plenty of mental machines in my time, but rarely do I get nervous before exploring the performance envelope of a modern car. But this thing is giving me the sweats – I’m nervous and I don’t mind admitting it.
A number of our party have already had experience in the Challenger Hellcat – a two-door hooligan if ever there was one – just a couple of months ago, and they’re still here to tell the tale, so perhaps my nervous demeanour is without any real foundation but still... seven-hundred-and-seven horsepower. Through the rear wheels. I take a deep breath, climb in and prepare to unleash the full fury of this four-wheeled djinn.
The Hellcat’s interior is familiar and friendly, looking entirely similar to the plushest versions of the last generation of Charger, only with tighter hugging seats and a revised speedometer to compensate for its 204mph (328.3kph) maximum. Yes, you read that right – the Charger Hellcat is the fastest and most powerful four-door car on the planet.
You can adjust the car’s suspension and performance settings to an almost infinite degree via the central infotainment screen (just as with the SRT) and you can call up any number of infographics while you’re at it. And this isn’t just some gimmick to please the inner 10-year-old that most of us possess – oh no, this is information that you can use to decrease your lap times, gauge your sprinting performance and maximise your Hellcat’s blistering track potential. A four-door saloon on a racetrack used to be something of an oxymoron, but, if this tech is anything to go by, this car could seriously worry a GT-R or even a 911 GT3. Which, when you stop and think about it, is utterly preposterous.
I’ve already experienced the circuit in the SRT 392 (utterly brilliant), the R/T (not so great) and a fully equipped police-patrol Charger with all-wheel drive, column shift and a full repertoire of flashing lights (spongy and not as much fun as I’d hoped). But I’ve been told by the frothing-at-the-mouth hacks who’ve already been out there in a Hellcat that it obliterates even the SRT – a car that I’m loving more by the minute and one in which I was regularly hitting 195kph down the relatively short straight section past the pits.
Immediately, though, the 707hp titan makes its strength known. From the moment I mash its throttle, it simply destroys everything in its path. By the time I’m pointing it down the straight, the Hellcat has indelibly etched itself into my subconscious mind as one of the most viscerally exciting automobiles of all time. It is ballistic.
By the time I’m getting on the huge Brembo anchors, I’m doing 227kph, proving just how much more muscular it is over even the SRT 392 – which, lest we forget, is still endowed with 485hp from its 6.4L V8 mill. But I was expecting the straight-line speed – what comes as a (very pleasant) surprise is the way the Hellcat behaves through the extremely challenging corners, sweepers and blind crests that pepper this snaking ribbon of tarmac. It’s not the nimble athlete that a McLaren 620S is, granted, but it remains utterly composed and easy to load up before the approaching corner. Wipe off enough speed before it, turn in, feed in the power until the track straightens fully and then back on the gas with just the slightest shimmy from its booty – it’s much more benign than I expected.
Naturally, the more you become accustomed to a car such as this, the more you are able to exploit its massive reserves. With slightly different inputs, you’d easily be able to break traction and smoke the rear boots, but with the track’s pitifully meagre run-off areas and the instructor’s words ringing in my ears, I decide that restraint is the order of the day. Get the Hellcat onto a disused runway, however, and I’d burn those tyres into next week, only stopping when they’re down to their steel belts and sending sparks into the atmosphere.
The Hellcat’s engine is smaller in capacity (by 200cc) than the SRT 392’s, but it’s supercharged – and that method of forced induction is something American engineers are experts at. When inside the Hellcat and giving it death on the track, I’m unaware of any whine from the blower, but, from the outside, while I’m sat on the pit lane wall watching the others tear past, the first thing you hear when a Hellcat is homing into view – just for the briefest of moments – is that typical supercharger shriek. When the power comes on, it’s replaced by one of the most ferocious soundtracks I’ve ever heard emitted by a road car.
Putting that power down onto terra firma is an eight-speed TorqueFlite automatic transmission that must be made from industrial diamonds, because the forces at play here are surely too much for mere metal to cope with. It’s responsive and smooth even in extremis, perfectly matched to the sheer grunt produced by the V8. You can use paddle shifters if you want the full manly experience, but there’s no manual on offer – at least not yet.
The Hellcat sits atop a range of Charger models that have been thoroughly and comprehensively overhauled, and the redesign is an unmitigated triumph. The new Charger shares only its roof and rear doors with the outgoing version, with every other panel entirely new. Its proportions are the same yet through clever detailing and body sculpting, it appears longer, sleeker and more curvaceous. The gaping radiator grille, which gave the previous models an often-unfortunate guppy look, is gone, replaced by a more subtle and modern item that helps the nose section appear tighter and sleeker than ever before. New LED headlamps and a full wrap-around rear-lamp arrangement complete the effect – to these eyes, at least, the new Charger is America’s finest looking automobile. Trust me on this: when you see one, you’ll want one.
That the Charger isn’t built in the US is irrelevant (it’s actually pieced together at Chrysler’s plant in Canada), because with it, Dodge has managed to distil all that is great about American car culture into a package that will be universally appealing. Prices for each model are still to be set, but the Hellcat will probably retail for the price of a BMW M3, which will make it in the Dh350,000 ballpark. That makes it one of the greatest performance-car bargains of all time. But you’ll never experience all it has to offer, so the SRT 392 might be a better choice, because it offers a great deal of what the Hellcat possesses in a more usable, less lethal package that looks, to all intents and purposes, identical to its psychotic sibling.
It’s the one I’d go for, and I doubt I’d ever feel like I’d made the wrong decision, but the Hellcat will be out there somewhere, hissing and growling, ready to strike fear into the hearts of all who cross it. Like the great white shark, I wouldn’t want to live with a Hellcat or make it angry, but I’m glad it exists. The world would be a less interesting place without it.
khackett@thenational.ae
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