2015 Dodge Challenger SRT Hellcat review notes: Hashtag Winning!

Dodge keeps sending us Hellcats — what more can we possibly say about these visceral-but-tractable monsters? Are they just daring us to find something wrong with them? Do they want us to get in trouble with the law? The non-lame part of me quickly tells the other part to shut up, and soon enough I’m enjoying one of the most improbably well-executed marketing gimmicks in Detroit’s history. I’ve been exceptionally lucky when it comes to lining up Hellcats for special occasions, too. Last year, I snagged a supercharged Challenger just in time to sit in the gridlock that is the Woodward Dream Cruise. This year, I celebrated the Fourth of July behind the wheel of the most ’Merican vehicle to ever come out of Brampton, Ontario. Then I went and shot off some Chinese fireworks. It was a star-spangled weekend. But it wasn’t all patriotic chest-thumping — I did learn a bit more about the car. Or at least my behavior while in one. You’ve seen “Dr. Strangelove,” right? You know the titular character’s Roman-saluting alien hand? My accelerator foot is similarly afflicted. Any time I found a straight stretch of road, I wanted to absolutely floor it. I started looking forward to stop signs and stop lights, just to see how far you can push it before the rear wheels stop hooking up. It’s something about the intoxicatingly immediate power of a supercharged engine. Anyway, no matter how much self-restraint you think you’ve got, too much seat time in a Hellcat will give you a sense of confidence you’re maybe not entirely deserving of — the LX/LC platform is nothing if not predictable and forgiving. Tires will start to screech. You’ll get a little wider in corners than you meant to. You’re unconsciously pushing the envelope, exploring the limits, getting a little too comfortable with the power on tap. You’re loosening up — and so is the car.