If you find this notion depressing, take solace in the Dodge Charger SRT Hellcat’s ability to binge-drink premium fuel. Stomp the throttle as if you own a private pipeline and this hellion can burn 1.5 gallons of high test in a minute flat. Texans with the pumps and space to indulge such pleasures can suck this car’s tank dry in the time it takes to read this article.
Other Hellcat stats are equally astonishing. This is the first American sedan armed with 707 horsepower [see “The Maddest Motor” on page 2]. The one German four-door capable of beating it to 60 mph, the Porsche Panamera Turbo S, costs nearly three times the Charger’s $64,990 base price and falls shy of the Dodge’s claimed 204-mph top speed. Massive Brembo brakes and 20-inch Pirelli gumballs make this family hauler much more than a straight-line special.
With pump prices dipping below three bucks a gallon and the Saudis discounting crude to thwart the fracking tide, the super Charger arrives at an opportune moment. Designed in Michigan, assembled in Canada, and powered by a Mexican-made engine, it’s a poster child for NAFTA pragmatism. Also thank Fiat Chrysler boss Sergio Marchionne, who waved a figurative arrivederci to Ferrari with one hand while welcoming the Challenger and Charger Hellcats to the menagerie with the other.
No rocket science was needed to spank GM and Ford. The pushrod V-8 wearing one of the engine world’s most revered nameplates first appeared in 2003 Ram pickups—albeit minus the actual hemispherical combustion chambers of yore. The Charger’s chassis parts were handed down by Mercedes a decade ago during the ill-fated DaimlerChrysler lash-up. This year’s nicely rendered face lift replaces the stale gun-sight grille with seven air-inlet and -outlet ports. Sinister HID headlamps, growling cat badges, and a manly pair of pipes are also new.
Children cower at the sound of a blown Hemi starting; at full throttle, its supercharger whine and exhaust howl carry for miles. During cruising, the mighty engine murmurs barely audible bass notes, its tailpipes restricted by computer-controlled butterfly valves.
Pity the Hellcat’s 275/40ZR-20 tires futilely attempting to put down more than 8000 pound-feet of torque (650 pound-feet at 4800 rpm from the engine multiplied by 12.34 through the driveline in first gear). Pirelli’s stock rises a notch every time a driver lights the smoke grenades under the rear fenders. Thanks to a hair-trigger throttle, remedial right-foot reprogramming is essential to in-town puttering. Mashing the gas to pass will snap the traction at 40 mph on dry pavement, or as high as 80 in the wet. In the hands of a driver lacking respect for what was once known as war emergency power, the Charger SRT Hellcat is the loosest of all road cannons.
But in capable hands, it will thrill and amaze. To wring Chevy Corvette Z06 acceleration from this 4592-pound sedan, we disabled the stability controls, warmed the rear tires, set the transmission to track mode, placed the dampers in sport mode, and squeezed the throttle pedal with due deliberation. The tires bite in 1.6 seconds, the time it takes to reach 30 mph, then yowl again during the 1-2 shift at 40. What sounds like shredding titanium is the engine protesting the momentary power reductions accompanying each upshift. What feels like teleportation flings you to 60 in 3.4 seconds and to 128 mph in the quarter-mile. From rest to 170, the hairy Hemi posts an average 0.34 g of acceleration. Pleasure receptors think they’ve been treated to great sex, a tasty sirloin, and Dutch chocolate ice cream—all at once.
Exemplary braking and cornering performance are also part of the deal. Massive Brembo six-piston front and four-piston rear calipers grabbing two-piece rotors halt this car from 70 mph in 153 feet—averaging 1.07 g’s—with virtually no fade. Pirelli P Zero rubber stuck the Hellcat to our skidpad at 0.94 g.
