Last week I coined a new verb that I would like Webster to add to his dictionary immediately. The word and its definition are: “Hellcatin’ (verb) – Spelled without the last ‘g’ because it ain’t proper; the act of raising hell on any of America’s highways or byways in a manner that ignores the presence of physics, other vehicles, and the lawman who may be lurking around the next bend. An extreme amount of exhaust, tire, and supercharger noise must be being made, and the subsequent sounds must be echoing off of trees, buildings, tunnel walls, or all three in the most extreme cases.” It is critical that during this activity it is known that the driver may not be going for ultimate speed, per se, but, instead, ultimate reaction from within his or herself, as well as from bystanders who may be inspired in everything that they do by such displays of wanton behavior. Finally, the vessel(s) that the above activities take place in must be a Dodge Challenger or Charger Hellcat.
The first time I Hellcatted was some time ago in Atlanta, and the experience caught me completely off-guard. That time I was in a black on black automatic, and the excitement of the drive left me fiending to drive one with a stick for comparison’s sake. Fortunately, while visiting one of my oldest friends who owns a manual transmission Hellcat more recently, he looked at me with a sly grin on his face, casually threw me his red key and said, “Go have some fun.” After confirming he was sure about this offer, I loaded my wife and three children into his Granite Challenger (so sexy!), and immediately stalled as a result of trying to pull off in third gear (don’t judge me—I am used to top left being reverse!). After I got laughed at, I quickly selected first and peeled off with a decent amount of wheelspin to let my family and the neighbors know that Hellcattin’ was about to commence.
Through first and second gears, this Hellcat felt as if power was being cut by the traction control until the tachometer reached about 3,500 rpm (granted, that may be because my heavy foot was not interested in displaying the expert level of self-control it would have taken to prevent this baby from lighting up the tires at every press of the gas pedal because, well… Hellcat). Once beyond that mark, the speed came gloriously and effortlessly. Surprisingly, the clutch was not as heavy as I expected it to be in a 700+hp Mopar, and the shift gates were very clearly defined. As we barreled into and out of tremendously tight corners, the car’s traction control was lenient enough to allow progressive bursts of wheelspin that ultimately cut power at what felt like 10 degrees. This repeated sideways action kept me entertained until we reached our first straightaway, where I buried my foot into the floorboard and screamed with glee as we rocketed towards a number that I will not publish. My oldest said, “Dad! This isn’t Bullitt!” (he watches a lot of old movie-chases with me and we were in a blackish Dodge, so…), my middle one said he was afraid, and my youngest laughed in a way that was eerily similar to my own. Of course, my bride was in the passenger seat saying something about slowing down and negatively influencing our children, but every time I heard her voice, I chose to drown it out with the fury of that damned Hellcat motor by squeezing the gas even harder. It was a magnificent moment of fatherhood and husbandry that will certainly go down in our family, history. “Hey, family… Remember the first time we Hellcatted together?”
On a serious note, one thing that I was pleasantly surprised with was performance of the brakes on this heavyweight Dodge. The pedal was firm, progressive, and easy to modulate; and there was no detectable fade in my 25 minute drive. That is not to say that they could hold up to a track day, but for quick bouts of Hellcatin’, they are definitely up to task. The steering is also well sorted to handle a slew of donuts and/or fishtails on any city street. All in all, the Hellcat with a stick is just as entertaining as it is with an automatic, which is to say that I need one in my life!
Shout out to JH for throwing me the keys to his Dodge… Love you, brother.
