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American Muscles | Episode 07 – DODGE CHARGER
DODGE CHARGER
Words Christian Parodi / Photos RevMuscleCars
On this American trip I have often found myself facing those too often idealized myths, the kind that high expectations risk ruining when in the end you find yourself alone in front of your dream. The Dodge Charger – year 1969 – is one of these, indeed it is perhaps the biggest goal still left on my list of cars to drive before leaving this world. Cinema icon par excellence, mainly used by villains, but consecrated to the small screen also thanks to the timeless TV series “Dukes of Hazzard”, the Charger is the most exceptional representation of muscle cars, even at sidereal distances from the infinite and dusty roads of West Virginia.
Sleek line, only two doors and a huge V8 ready to ground on the rear wheels 375 of the most pounding horses you could wish for. Yep, because it’s useless to think about cornering speeds, G figures or who knows what other nerd data, given that the set-up is still very soft and that the weight of this Dodge is comparable to that of a contemporary SUV, but trust me when I tell you that driving involvement here is something that will not leave your memory. Approaching one of these sacred monsters raises a pinch of anxiety, that classic shiver that runs down your spine and is replaced by a real tremor in your legs, the precise moment I give life to the V8. Everything starts to vibrate and every time I press on the gas, it’s as if the car itself is shaken, almost begging me to leave a few centimeters of tire on the sand-covered asphalt and set off towards the plains outside Morgantown.
The Charger does not disappoint my expectations and gives shape to that American dream that has accompanied me in who knows how many hundreds of films since I was a little boy. Today I’m the bad guy, but I can’t help but think of the Dukes’ orange Dodge. In short, imagine it as you like, the Charger knows exactly what is needed to create the ultimate moment and responds affirmatively by raising the engine hood, increasing the decibels and letting the air caress my left arm, ready to crawl out of the window only after having tamed the primordial urge to tear the smile off my face. Yes, because deep down she’s still a bad girl, she makes you lose your mind and you can’t stop but asking for more. Time to wake up, with the awareness that if I want to feel some healthy goosebumps, it will be enough for me to think about her.
… to be continued
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