ArcaMax

We have arrived at an incredible nexus. The horsepower available today - as here - is beyond the ability of even 20 inch wheels shod with 275/40ZR20 Pirelli P Zero Nero tires to deal with. An original 426 Street Hemi (rated 426 hp) would probably have had trouble smearing the road with liquified asphalt if the '70 Superbird it was in had the Hellcat's rolling stock.

The Hellcat, meanwhile, can incinerate these tires at will. I mean vaporize them. Spit little chunks of atomized rubber like a truck tearing ass up a gravel road. Leave a tactical nuke-looking mushroom cloud - and twin stripes permanently etching your zig-zagging antics for posterity to view.

Ho-lee &*#!!!

I have been test-driving new cars for almost 25 years and nothing I have driven to date that's not a race car or a heavily modified and not production car comes close to this. Not M5 BMWs or 911 turbos or Vipers. Not the '95 Cobra R (last of the 351s) I took through the Baltimore Harbor Tunnel at 135 at two in the morning, the exhaust pulses of the 5.8 Windsor reverberating off the tile walls.

Punch (well, tap) the "SRT" button under the center stack LCD screen. Up comes the driver-configurable settings. Pick "Track" - if you're brave. Everything goes red. Engage the Launch Control ("Steering wheel must be straight") for the picture perfect quarter-mile blast. The computer will adjust everything - and takecare of everything. Slippage is allowed - inevitable - but it's kinda-sorta under control. The car stays in a semi-straight line until traction is fully established (not until third gear), supercharger howling gloriously, the vacuum-actuated "active" exhaust cut-outs dumping decibels and enough C02 from the oceans of fuel being consumed to heat the local area - if not the entire planet - by several degrees, at least.

The beefed-up eight-speed throws down bracket race-firm shifts - firm enough to spin the tires (and fishtail the rear end) on the 1-2 and the 2-3 upshifts. You feel like a young Mel Gibson in full Mad Max mode, pointing your V8 Interceptor down Anarchy Lane. Look out, Toecutter.

But as phenomenal as the Hellcat's performance is, its relative docility is even more impressive. This car is 100 percent wife-drivable. A Nextel Cup stocker is only wife-drivable if your wife's name is Danica. Think about this.

A 707 hp street car that can be driven around like any other car. Take the kids to school, then drive it to work. Seriously. You could drive this thing cross country just as easily as a Camry (except for the gas bills). As a measure of how impressive all this is, consider that any '60s or '70s-era muscle car that could run a sub-12-second quarter-mile was not street-drivable. The only way it was going cross-country was on a trailer.

AT THE CURB

The Charger version of the Hellcat would be my pick precisely because it is a Charger - and not aChallenger. If you're going to drive a car packing 707 hp with the intention of using it, the smart move is a less noticeable wrapper. Like reading the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue in church. Slip it in between the pages of the good book, like Bill Clinton used to do. The Charger Hellcat can blend in.

It has a few exterior giveaways: a mild body kit and air extractors on the hood and flanks, the Hellcat badges on either front fender. But from twenty yards out, it's easily mistaken for - yawn - another Charger. If you're out on the highway running 80 in a 70 in a pack of cars doing the same, your chances of not being the one selected to receive a piece of payin' paper are much better than they would be if you were driving the Challenger coupe, which is a known offender.

The Challenger Hellcat can't help standing out. Driving it is like driving any other out-of-the-closet muscle car. It is the difference between getting away with it - and not. Plus, the Charger Hellcat's uniqueness enhances its coolness.

How many four-doors are there out there packing more engine than a Viper or Corvette - or pretty muchanything else, two-doors or otherwise? If you're wanting a way to rationalize buying this car, consider it an investment. A future collectible. This is no joke, either. Remember the Ford SVT Lightning pick-up of the late '90s/early 2000s? They're worth big money today. Tell the wife.

Or, point out that - unlike a Challenger (much less a Viper) you can take the kiddies to school in this thing - and take the whole family to visit the in-laws in Florida, too. The back seats (and back doors) make all that not just feasible but pleasant. This is a full-size sedan. With a nearly 17 cubic foot trunk and 40.1 inches of backseat legroom. A Viper has no backseats at all. The Challenger does, but they're not easy to get into - or out of - due to the lack of doors.

The Hellcat may be low-key on the outside, but inside, it is obvious something's up. Blood orange suede door panel inserts and seat covers bring to mind the luridly obstreperous Chryslers of the past. Think Christine: Body by Plymouth, soul by Satan.

You also get a a unique gauge package with 200 MPH speedometer recessed behind a carbon fiber surround and a scroll-through menu of secondary gauge options that display in the secondary LCD cluster to your right, in the center stack. You can dial up intake manifold temp, boost (also displayed in the main cluster), air-fuel ratio, horsepower and torque produced, G forces endured, lap time, 0-60, eighth and quarter mile time - and your reaction times.

This is also where you access the Launch Control function as well as the almost-endlessly configurable powertrain and chassis settings - from Track to (yes, really) Eco.

You also get two sets of keys - well, key fobs. One red, the other black. The black one is for your teenaged kid, parking lot attendants and other not-trustables. It gimps the Hellcat's output to - well, not quite Camry levels. But a couple hundred hp less than the red key enables.

THE REST

In almost every way, the Hellcat is a faithful reproduction of the experience you got 45 years ago when you dropped the hammer in a '70 Hemi 'Cuda - except in one way.

Though a relative bargain, the Hellcat's near-$62k entry price (plus the cost to insure it) foreordain that - for the most part - only guys (and maybe a few gals) well past their twenty-something years are ever going to get to experience this thing.

Which may be a good thing - at least insofar as the continued production of rabid animals like this is concerned. If large numbers of twenty-somethings (and thirty-somethings) could afford cars like this, there would be a keening wail of outrage coming from "moms" and other such tramplers of fun. With reason, I must admit. If I had access to a car like this twenty-something years ago, probably I would not be here to type these words. One of my high school-era friends is not here for exactly that reason. He had a '70 GTX with the 440 big block. The car is not around anymore - and neither is he. Too much, too soon - too young.

If you buy a Hellcat - either the Charger or the Challenger - Chrysler wisely tosses in a free day at an SRT school of high performance driving. Take them up on it.

If you have never driven a Nextel Cup stocker, you will want to take the course before you attempt to put your Hellcat through its paces. Seriously. Be careful. Respect it. And respect your limits. This is a car that can get away from you - as well as get you into trouble.

THE BOTTOM LINE

Screw retro. The here and now has suddenly become much more interesting.

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www.ericpetersautos.com or EPeters952@aol.com for comments.