The madness started somewhere in the Sierra Nevada mountains. The 2012 Bullrun Live Rallyhad just left a lunch pit stop at Pioneer Meadows Golf Course, nestled high in theevergreens of Pioneer, CA, when Highway 88 was hit with an explosion of high-performancecombustion that hadn’t been seen in the area since entrepreneur/adventurer SteveFossett crashed his Bellanca Super Decathlon airplane into these mountains in 2007.Upon leaving the Meadows, the clip of high-end exotic cars and modified streetracers soared into the two-lane mountain pass and immediately floored their collectivethrottles, beginning a lunatic time warp across the asphalt roller coaster of dips andclimbs that carve across this most beautiful region of America. And there I was, clutchingthe thick steering wheel of a 2012 Dodge Challenger SRT8 392 -- yes, the “BigBoy,” as Wiz Khalifa calls it in his “Black and Yellow” video. Only thisSRT8 wasn’t black and yellow but rather the signature HEMI orange made famous bythese certain Dukes over in Hazzard County.My photographer Tom and I had spentthe last leg of the Bullrun driving utterly alone from San Francisco to Pioneer, somehowlosing the entire pack of Bullrun cars, condemning us to six hours of solo cruisingthrough rural townships. Sure the drive was gorgeous and the scenery unforgettable, butneither Tom nor I had signed up for scenic drives. We wanted action, and now we had morethan we could handle.The most salient element to driving the SRT8 is, quitesimply, its namesake 392 cubic-inch engine. The transcendent 6.4L V8’s 470 lb-ft oftorque is enough to send your neurons into an explosive fit. And its sound… Well,when you hear its full herd of horses (also 470, coincidentally) galloping through theAlcantara-wrapped interior of your Challenger, there’s not another place on Earthyou’d rather be. The sound is deep, low and throaty. And although its melodioustones are smile-inducing, the pull of its full power when the throttle is depressed andyou’re quick-shifting through its six-speed manual gearbox will have you seeingstars.So there we were, a Ford Mustang GT500, Porsche PanameraS, BMW X6, AstonMartin DB9, Subaru WRX STI and a drift/rally-tuned Scion FR-S cutting through theswitchbacks of Highway 88, all engaged in a sort of vehicular back-country hoedown wheredance partners switch positions every time a passing lane opens up. And if a legal passinglane doesn’t? Well, then it comes down to a battle of testicular fortitude asdouble-solid lane dividers suddenly turn into dotted lines, and basically a honky-tonkjailbreak ensues with a rabid reshuffling of the car(d)s. With Tom firing awayfuriously on his Canon, at times perilously leaning out the window, I dropped the pedaland listened to the roar of the Challenger’s naturally aspirated V8 swell, and welurched forward, overtaking car after car. As we approached the front of the line, therewas only a plaid -- yes, plaid -- Ferrari 430 left to overtake. We were set on capturingfirst place, and the SRT8 was up for the challenge. Gripping the wheel, Tom and I lookedat each other and shared one of those silent nods, the type you see in buddy cop flicks,and we mashed the throttle to the floor; Tom squeezed the door handle with white knucklefervor. Continue Reading

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