2015 Dodge Viper SRT GTS
Type of vehicle: Front engine, rear-wheel-drive, two-passenger sports car
Price as tested: $122,290
Fuel economy: 12 miles per gallon city, 21 highway
Weight: About 3,300 pounds
Engine: 8.4-liter V-10 with 640 horsepower and 600 pound-feet of torque
Transmission: Six-speed manual
Performance: 0 to 60 mph in 3.4 seconds
Sources: SRT division of Dodge; Car and Driver
As you may recall, Chrysler killed off the Viper in 2008 in the midst of its bankruptcy, silencing a brash, gas-guzzling two-seat sports/muscle car rooted in the ’60s.
Then, in a surprising blast from the past, unpredictable Chrysler plucked the Viper from its grave in 2010, even adding some refinement in 2013.
We should celebrate its existence daily: The Viper may be the last production sports car as mean and violent and wildly impractical as the old Shelby 427 Cobras that inspired it.
Low, wide and nicely curvaceous, the dark blue 2015 Viper GTS I had recently possessed almost cartoonish proportions.
A seriously long hood and strong, flowing front fenders presented a great face, embellished with headlamps that looked a bit like snake eyes.
Meanwhile, a graceful power bulge in the center of the hood and exhaust vents on either side of it announced that something big and really nasty lived beneath it.
One of the Viper’s best features was a deep exhaust vent recessed into the back side of its front wheelwells.
A chiseled line coming off the vent faded as it moved toward the squat, highly exaggerated rear fenders, giving the smooth sides some definition.
For even more dash and effect, the 200-mph Viper wears a low, pinched top with two slight bubbles in it to create a little more headroom.
More great badness resided just in front of the rear wheels: large, oval-shaped exhaust tips that blasted out enough decibels to dimple the doors of nearby Toyotas and Hondas.
Even the tires left a powerful impression. The front fenders were stuffed with enormous 295/30 tires wrapped around 18-inch alloy wheels, while the rears wore steamroller 335/30-19s.
They aren’t for looks. Coiled beneath the Viper’s long hood is an all-aluminum 8.4-liter V-10 that generates 640 hard-hitting horsepower.
Moreover, the Viper’s hood, top and hatchback are formed from lightweight carbon fiber.
As a result, the bulky-looking coupe weighs a relatively lean 3,300 pounds, or roughly 200 pounds less than a Honda Accord.
Hold on tight
Do the math and you get a pretty clear idea of what to expect.
With a scant 5.1 pounds per horsepower, the tire-spinning, suspension-jarring Viper accelerates to 60 in 3.4 seconds, according to Car and Driver, and is wilder than a 700-horsepower Challenger Hellcat.
At slow speeds, the lumpy-idling Viper felt hot-rod sleepy to me, as if it had been designed and tuned for life in the fast lane.
But once the tach swung past 2,500 rpm, the engine swelled in intensity like a ferocious late-spring thunderstorm.
The big black-and-red motor surged so hard that anything not bolted down — such as your head — got tossed about.
Although the latest version of Viper gets fitted with traction and suspension control, the car never went silently or easily into the night.
Get this: It is rated at 12 miles per gallon in town, and I barely made it three days without having to top off the tank.
Like many old muscle cars, the Viper had a springy clutch with a lot of travel complementing a positive, long-throw shifter. They were a pleasure when I could pull myself off the seat long enough to grab a gear.
Unlike sports/muscle cars from the past, though, the Viper rips around corners and curves with astounding grace.
Even more gratifying was the car’s steering, which felt heavy at slow speeds but was really quick and alive, transmitting every change of surface.
Looking inside
The Viper did get a pretty decent interior — though it’s still somewhat tight and cramped.
The black interior in mine, for example, had a swoopy dashboard covered in a thin layer of leather. Large, round, contemporary-looking gauges occupied the instrument panel, and an 8.4-inch display screen held most of the middle of the dash.
Low-mounted black-leather bucket seats offered supportive bolsters, white stitching and patterned centers.
Storage space was mostly nonexistent, though Vipers do now have cupholders.
Oh, yeah, be careful about the door sills, which can easily be touched when you’re struggling to extricate yourself from the Viper. They get hot from the exhaust.
My burns have mostly healed, but I would happily subject myself to a second round in exchange for another week with a Viper.
The car makes absolutely no sense. But if you love loud, bold, highly engaging vehicles, the Big Snake will charm you.
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