New Models
  • Peg It on GarageMonkey
Snake Bite: Driving the 2005 Dodge Viper SRT-10
Howard Walker relates how much more interesting life becomes when you have 500 horsepower
Howard Walker  | http://www.racer.com  |  Posted December 23, 2004  

One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi. Four Mississ…There. That's exactly the span of time it takes for the 2005 Dodge Viper SRT-10 to explode from parked to 60mph.

Three-point-nine seconds. That's quick. No, that's ludicrously quick. No, that's insanely quick. Almost jet-fighter-off-a-carrier quick.

But those three-point-nine Mississippis don't give the remotest hint as to the pure, unadulterated thrill-ride you get simply by selecting first gear, raising the V10 engine's revs to 3,000 rpm, and promptly stepping off the clutch pedal.

Like Captain Kirk calling for warp speed on the Enterprise, the Viper compresses body into the seatback, arrests breath, blurs scenery, and sends plumes of acrid smoke billowing from the rear tires.

And this is no accelerate-in-a-straight-line maneuver. With an engine that packs more muscle than the entire cast of Baywatch, the oil drum-sized rear Michelins have a tough time containing all that testosterone. This car squirms. And wriggles. And writhes in one glorious reptilian shimmy as it launches itself off the line.

Of course, you only perform these juvenile antics in the confines of a racetrack, or remoter parts of South Central L.A. And ideally not in the Burger King drive-thru. Though you could.

But the sheer adrenaline rush, the sheer joy of feeling the Viper's force, and the mile-wide Julia Roberts grin it puts on your face, is worth the cost of all that flambéed rubber.
The bad, bad Viper SRT-10 shocks the senses both visually and physically.

To deliver this kind of performance demands the mutha of all engines. Raise the Viper's hood and there in all its glory is the snake's 8.3-liter 505 cu.in.V10, packing a mighty 500 horsepower and 525 lb-ft of twist.

There's nothing too sophisticated here. Its origins are in a big ol' truck motor with pushrods working two valves per cylinder. Dodge claims that it'll redline at 6000rpm, but mechanical sympathy will keep you from stretching the revs too far past 4000.

To bring the beast to life there's nothing so mundane as twisting a key. The big red button on the fascia says "Start" and one press summons up the devil.

And to say that the engine starts is a bit like saying the Incredible Hulk lifts weights. No, the big V10 detonates into life with the kind of earth-shaking tremor that has every Californian within half a mile running for cover, fearing the onset of "The Big One."

And then there's the sound. At idle, it's like Rambo gargling with roofing mails. Rugga, rugga, rugga. Blip the throttle and a pack of pit bulls doesn't sound this snarly. At 4,000rpm-plus, it sounds like the sharp end of a heavy duty pressure washer.

Ease the poker-like gearlever forward into first. Or back into second. Doesn't matter, the Viper pulls like a Kenworth. Go from third straight into fifth at 1,000rpm? Not a problem. It's as if the car is connected to some invisible rubber band.

Passing slower traffic? Just squeeze the throttle. And hang on. And to drive this car fast, you simply switch between third and fourth gears. That's all you need. Fifth and sixth are so highly-geared they're almost redundant.
Exacting steering and ultra-wide tires making handling everything the road throws at you a joy.

Through the curves, those big, fat, run-flat Michelins stick to the blacktop like chewing gun to the underside of a chair. To get them to even squeal or chirp requires hooligan levels of velocity – or stupidity – while entering or exiting a curve. Normally, the Viper just tracks your chosen path as if it's running on invisible rails.

You just have to be aware that at lower speeds, your right foot controls what should be labeled "the oversteer switch." Press just a l-i-t-t-l-e too hard with the steering wheel pointed anywhere but straight ahead, and the car's rear end will do its very best to catch up with the front end. Donuts in the Dunkin' Donuts parking lot? Not a problem.

Driving this demonic Dodge hard requires nothing less than 110 percent concentration. The steering, for example, has all the precision of a surgeon's scalpel. Sneeze and you'll instantly find yourself pointing in the opposite direction.

And those super-wide front tires have a love affair with every rut, ridge, groove, crown, or road marking and, like a lost puppy, will follow them anywhere. You may think you're pointing straight-ahead, but a nano-second later, the nose is jinxing to the left, or right, and you're grappling for control.

Need to stop in a hurry? Racing-style Brembo brakes, clamping discs the diameter of family-sized pizzas, shed speed as effectively as hurling out an anchor.

As you might expect, the Viper doesn't ride like a luxury limo. On anything but pool table-smooth blacktop, it jiggles and jerks like you've just put a quarter in the vibro-massaging bed. Hitting a pothole will send a seismic force through the car that's at least a seven on the Richter Scale.

You don't so much drive the Viper, you wear it. The heavily-bolstered driver's seat squeezes you as tightly as a Hulk Hogan body-lock and supports you in places you've never been supported. And you sit low, low down in the cockpit peering across a hood that's so big is deserves its own zip code.
The 8.3-liter 505 cu.in. V10 packs a wallop.

You can't help but smile when you see a speedo calibrated to 220mph, and a huge tachometer mounted smack in front of your sight-line. The whole layout of the white-faced instruments is excellent, particularly the stack of four gauges, mounted vertically alongside the main instrument binnacle. And there's no problem gripping the wheel – its rim is thicker than a salami.

For the first time in a Viper, there's actually some semblance of quality about the cabin. The leathers are soft and rich, the coal-black vinyls now have a good texture, and the molded plastics no longer feel hard and brittle. But an Audi, or a Merc SL, it ain't.

At least the top works well. There's no power folding, but raise the trunk lid, release an over-center catch on the windshield header, and just flip the top back. Fifteen seconds max. And the top itself fits pretty well with the whistle of wind noise only building at 80mph and over. The top features a solid panel over the driver's head, so as to keep its shape at 170mph, and do away with a tonneau cover when it's folded.

Talking of trunk, there's a half decent amount of space back there, enough for a couple or three good-sized soft bags. Enough to make the Viper practical.

But you don't shell out $81,495 for practicality. You buy a Viper to send your heartbeat into hyper-drive on a Sunday morning blast down a snaky backroad. You buy a Viper to put Red Bull levels of caffeine into your morning commute. You buy a Viper because even at $81-grand, there just ain't nothing out there like it. It's baaaad.
The leather has been upgraded from previous Vipers, but the interior's emphasis remains one of functionality.
howardwalkerforracermagazine's avatar

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Howard Walker

RACER Magazine

MORE BY THIS AUTHOR
Advertising | Jobs | Feedback | FAQ | Terms of Use | NEW Privacy Policy | Ad Choices | Site Map
Fox Sports | FUEL TV | FX Network | National Geographic | IGN | AskMen
The Motor Sports Authority, SPEED and associated logos are registered trademarks of Speed Channel Inc.
All Rights Reserved © Speed Channel, Inc. 2013

All external links will open in a new browser window. SPEED.com does not endorse external sites.