The Anti-Hero
- Thread starter VENOMOUS1 RACING
- Start date
trussman
Active Member
Lol. I like the jc whitney one too. Good read. Thanks!
Quoted the whole article for awesomeness:
A weekend with the Dodge Challenger Hellcat
A frantic mom told me to slow down. I was going 17 mph.
By Max Prince September 3, 2014 / Photos by Chrysler
There are good weekends, and then there are good weekends. Rumbling out of the R&T office lot on Friday afternoon, I already knew mine would fall under the latter heading. In my left hand was a fat three-spoke steering wheel, in my right a 6-speed manual gear lever. Under my foot was 707 horsepower, and in my pocket were two keys—one black, one red. Yes, for three days, I had a Dodge Challenger SRT Hellcat.
A few hours at the helm confirmed just about everything I’d imagined America’s most powerful production car would be. Accelerating essentially consists of being thrust-kicked in the chest, temporarily blinded by red blinking traction control lights, and then deciding whom you’ll be calling to ask for bail money.
First gear tops out at 62 mph. Driving in the rain feels like playing hacky sack with a landmine. The handling is far superior to a locomotive, but decidedly worse than a sports car. With its ridiculous hood bulge, raked stance, and straight-out-of-JC-Whitney aerodynamic appendages, the Challenger Hellcat is the realization of every high-school-notebook margin doodle from 1972. People should absolutely adore this car, right?
Well, they don’t.
They hate it, and they hate you for driving it, too.
See, the new Corvette Stingray has universal appeal. It’s an undeniably charismatic blend of fury and grace. 95 percent of the general population actively wants one, or at least would gladly accept one were it bequeathed to them. The C7 ‘Vette is Captain America. It's heroic.
The Hellcat, on the other hand, is a menace.
It sets off car alarms in parking garages and unapologetically hogs lanes through downtown traffic, all the while consuming fuel at a rate that can only be described as ‘morally reprehensible.’ It’s a hulking, raucous, unruly, three-eyed pariah. If the Hellcat could knock ice cream cones from the hands of joyful children on a warm summer day, it would. It’s an anti-hero.
During 72 hours in my possession, the Hellcat only provoked two kinds of reactions. (1) From enthusiasts, belligerent requests to do a burnout, followed by unflattering comparisons to the female anatomy when I didn’t oblige, and (2) from everyone else, an unmistakable tractor beam of disapproval. Cops broke patrol to tail me. Middle-aged women rolled their eyes at me. People scowled. My neighbors complained. At one point on Saturday afternoon, a particularly vigilant member of the Ann Arbor PTA charged into the streets, mouthing “SLOW DOWN!” with her arms flailing. I was going 17mph.
In terms of taboo behavior, driving a Hellcat isn’t leaving fingerprint smudges on the deli sneeze guard—it’s walking in with a sledgehammer, smashing that partition into a million pieces and blowing snot rockets in the tuna salad. That’s the whole point.
Yes, this car is ridiculous. Unnecessary. Fast. Above all else, though, it’s disruptive, and we need more of that. If the muscle car ethos is all about indulging callous instruments of rebellion, creating prodigious tools for chronic disturbers of the peace, the Dodge Challenger SRT Hellcat may actually be perfect.
My neighbors hate me. It was a good weekend.
A weekend with the Dodge Challenger Hellcat
A frantic mom told me to slow down. I was going 17 mph.
By Max Prince September 3, 2014 / Photos by Chrysler
There are good weekends, and then there are good weekends. Rumbling out of the R&T office lot on Friday afternoon, I already knew mine would fall under the latter heading. In my left hand was a fat three-spoke steering wheel, in my right a 6-speed manual gear lever. Under my foot was 707 horsepower, and in my pocket were two keys—one black, one red. Yes, for three days, I had a Dodge Challenger SRT Hellcat.
A few hours at the helm confirmed just about everything I’d imagined America’s most powerful production car would be. Accelerating essentially consists of being thrust-kicked in the chest, temporarily blinded by red blinking traction control lights, and then deciding whom you’ll be calling to ask for bail money.
First gear tops out at 62 mph. Driving in the rain feels like playing hacky sack with a landmine. The handling is far superior to a locomotive, but decidedly worse than a sports car. With its ridiculous hood bulge, raked stance, and straight-out-of-JC-Whitney aerodynamic appendages, the Challenger Hellcat is the realization of every high-school-notebook margin doodle from 1972. People should absolutely adore this car, right?
Well, they don’t.
They hate it, and they hate you for driving it, too.
See, the new Corvette Stingray has universal appeal. It’s an undeniably charismatic blend of fury and grace. 95 percent of the general population actively wants one, or at least would gladly accept one were it bequeathed to them. The C7 ‘Vette is Captain America. It's heroic.
The Hellcat, on the other hand, is a menace.
It sets off car alarms in parking garages and unapologetically hogs lanes through downtown traffic, all the while consuming fuel at a rate that can only be described as ‘morally reprehensible.’ It’s a hulking, raucous, unruly, three-eyed pariah. If the Hellcat could knock ice cream cones from the hands of joyful children on a warm summer day, it would. It’s an anti-hero.
During 72 hours in my possession, the Hellcat only provoked two kinds of reactions. (1) From enthusiasts, belligerent requests to do a burnout, followed by unflattering comparisons to the female anatomy when I didn’t oblige, and (2) from everyone else, an unmistakable tractor beam of disapproval. Cops broke patrol to tail me. Middle-aged women rolled their eyes at me. People scowled. My neighbors complained. At one point on Saturday afternoon, a particularly vigilant member of the Ann Arbor PTA charged into the streets, mouthing “SLOW DOWN!” with her arms flailing. I was going 17mph.
In terms of taboo behavior, driving a Hellcat isn’t leaving fingerprint smudges on the deli sneeze guard—it’s walking in with a sledgehammer, smashing that partition into a million pieces and blowing snot rockets in the tuna salad. That’s the whole point.
Yes, this car is ridiculous. Unnecessary. Fast. Above all else, though, it’s disruptive, and we need more of that. If the muscle car ethos is all about indulging callous instruments of rebellion, creating prodigious tools for chronic disturbers of the peace, the Dodge Challenger SRT Hellcat may actually be perfect.
My neighbors hate me. It was a good weekend.
londongregg
Full Access Member
Man, I went into the wrong field. I gonna have to wait 8 years or so like my truck. I will be retired from the army by then
That was a great read!
That was a great read!
ontariobee
Full Access Member
I dont know if he was trying to bash the car at times or not.............but makes me want one even more
SRT-10 Ralph
Full Access Member
That was a good read.
Support Us
Become A Supporting Member Today!
