Road test: 2015 Dodge Charger SRT Hellcat

Like many millions of people around the planet, I’m a fairly regular user of Instagram, which I view as mainly a bit of fun, but also as a photo album, memory jogger and diary. And I can tell you that, at the time of writing, the last time I sat in the driver’s seat of a Dodge ­Charger ­Hellcat was 44 weeks ago, at Summit Point Motorsports Park in West Virginia, United States. I know this because I posted a video of one doing the mother of all burnouts right in front of me.

This recollection prompted me to revisit what I had written about this most muscly of American muscle cars in these very pages nearly a year ago. Had the shock and awe worn off? Was my verdict (I loved it) correct, or has a significant amount of time and the ability to test it on UAE roads instead of a racetrack caused its light to fade in clouds of smoking Pirellis? Only a few days of sheer terror behind its wheel will reveal the truth.

The Charger Hellcat’s intimidation factor remains extremely high. When I drove it on track, there was no oncoming traffic and I had a rather cautious instructor to my right who made sure I didn’t overcook it on the narrow circuit. Here, though, I’m on my own, and as Neville, Fiat Chrysler’s affable PR man, puts the keys in my quivering hands, he says with almost a sigh of weary resignation: “Take care buddy. It’s… well, it’s quick.”

He’s a master of understatement, obviously, because with 707hp being pummeled through the rear wheels only, this is still the fastest, most powerful saloon car available on the planet. But it isn’t available just yet – this one is here as a demonstrator. Dodge has been having difficulty keeping up with demand, and it’ll be a while yet before Hellcats hit Middle East showrooms. Production is being ramped up, and when you consider how much performance you get for your (approximately) Dh360,000, it’s a steal.

After three days of commuting around the city and using the Hellcat for mundane nonsense such as going to pick up groceries, I finally summon the nerve to really give it some, on an entirely empty and wide area of tarmac in an undisclosed location far away from civilisation. And I can confirm that any injudicious stabbing of the throttle, even with all the traction control systems working flat out, sends this Dodge fishtailing down the road in plumes of grey smoke while the driver battles to keep it in a straight line.

My wife remains unmoved by it, claiming it’s too big, too noisy, too blokey. And though I would never admit it in front of her, she’s absolutely right. The Charger is possessed of a substantial footprint and it’s ­terribly difficult to negotiate ­underground car parks in it, because of its girth, length and low-slung side skirts. And then there’s that hump – an unapologetic visual clue to what lies beneath its scoop-laden ­bonnet.

But I don’t mind the visual theatrics at play here, because they remain subtle enough for me to not be embarrassed. As I drive around Dubai, this red peril does turn heads – first, I assume, because of the epic soundtrack coming from its dual exhaust; second, because people in this part of the world know their muscle cars, and this, right now, is the ultimate.

When I look through my driving impressions from 2014, I find myself disagreeing with one point. I mentioned that in my time with the Hellcat, the supercharger hadn’t made its presence known with the characteristic whine they’re known for. Maybe the terror I was experiencing blocked it from my mind, but the 6.2L V8 is very much standard ­supercharger when it comes to the racket it makes. Combined with the incredible, hard-edged staccato vocals, there’s the sound of a circular saw battling away under the bonnet. It’s a weird mix, but it does give this car something sorely missing in most these days: character.

The new Charger feels and looks genuinely well-engineered, and the interior gives a real ­impression of quality throughout. On the move, something else I hadn’t picked up on at the racetrack is steering that’s overly corrective – as you relax its turn after exiting a bend, corner or roundabout, the wheel practically takes over proceedings and forcibly centres itself. It’s annoying, but hardly a deal-breaker.

One thing that still stands, though, is my inability to live with a Charger Hellcat as a daily driver. As much as I love it, I still think the lesser SRT 392, with its still formidable 485hp, would be the car for me. It’s the one my friends or my wife could drive without me worrying about their safety. The Hellcat is, as its nomenclature suggests, a wild and untameable beast, and, yes, I’m still glad it exists. It’s barking mad, and though I’m less of a man for admitting as much, it’s just too hot for me to handle. That didn’t stop me putting a photo of it on Instagram, though, obviously.

motoring@thenational.ae

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