I want to have faith in the new SRT, but I still can’t bring myself to do it.

      Byron Hurd

      Get The Drive’s daily newsletter

      The latest car news, reviews, and features.

      At my very core, I desire for SRT to succeed. Growing up, my walls were adorned with Viper posters, I had Viper wallpaper on my computer, Viper die-cast models on my dresser, and racing games featuring Vipers on any platform for which I could save up. I even watched the terrible Viper TV show.

      It was indeed bad. It premiered when I was ten, and even I realized that quickly.

      Suffice it to say, the marketing had a significant impact on my impressionable young mind. I developed an automatic affinity for anything R/T. Neons? Durangos? Not my style, perhaps, but still interesting. And when R/T evolved into SRT and rumors circulated about a revived Hemi V8, I was all ears. That year, Dodge unveiled the new Charger in New York. I still have magazines documenting the event stored in a bin somewhere in the basement.

      On its surface, it demonstrated that Dodge had a future selling more than just Chrysler re-badges with flashy red paint. But it was more than that. It was bold. It was fierce. It was unique. Amid a showroom filled with mundane four-door cars and awkwardly shaped pickup trucks, the Charger’s 6.1-liter engine and aggressive design made it look just as menacing as the Viper.

      I should be incredibly excited by this week’s announcement that Stellantis is bringing SRT back. However, I’m not; in fact, I’m having a hard time feeling anything at all.

      I don’t mean to dismiss the similarities with the early 2000s. Just like today, Chrysler (then part of DaimlerChrysler) was in a tough spot. The “Merger of Equals” with Daimler was beginning to unravel, but the two companies had already intertwined their operations in various ways. The Dodge/Chrysler LX platform exemplified this, combining a Chrysler-derived chassis with key Mercedes-Benz parts, including front and rear suspension components and its five-speed automatic transmission.

      Yet, despite having European backing, Chrysler was oddly struggling financially. The Charger, 300, and Magnum looked impressive on the road, but their interiors felt cheap, even among vehicles that cost significantly less. This cost-cutting extended to other crucial components as well. None of the original SRT-8 models were equipped with a mechanical limited-slip differential. It wasn’t until the second year of Dodge Challenger SRT-8 production (2009, just for reference) that it was finally introduced. The Charger had to wait until its redesign in 2011. The 300’s performance variant was simply discontinued, and the Magnum was entirely gone by the time things started to get interesting.

      However, what the large Mopars lacked in performance, they compensated for with sheer vintage appeal. The timing was also perfect. Baby boomer nostalgia was at its peak. Every older car enthusiast with a rusting ’60s muscle car seemed eager to cash in for a retirement home down payment. It also helped that gas prices were still relatively low and the truck boom had American engineers excited about what more they could engineer big engines into.

      What’s the saying? History doesn’t repeat, but it often rhymes?

      Yet, despite these parallel themes, that sense of exhilaration is absent. Perhaps it’s because what Dodge is proposing now isn’t fresh or innovative. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. The 2006 Dodge Charger was a combination of a new chassis and older components that created something distinctive in the showroom. This time, it’s glaringly evident they are desperately trying to have anything available in the showroom at all.

      To be fair, if I had struck gold with the Hemi the way Mopar did with the last generation of SRTs, I’d want to explore that opportunity again too. But I’m worried that there may not be as much to tap into as SRT hopes.

      Back in 2006, a brand-new V8 Charger was far too expensive for me; I had to wait ten years before I could own a Hemi. I finally got my Plum Crazy 392, a slightly used 2013 SRT8 with the pistol-grip six-speed. It was everything I hoped it would be—big, noisy, and yet somehow completely off the law enforcement radar.

      It was a fantastic car overall, but once the novelty faded, my interest dwindled quickly. I sold it to Carvana in a break-even deal during the height of Covid. With less maintenance and insurance—expenses I would have incurred regardless—I essentially spent about $1,500 out of pocket over four-and-a-half years of ownership. Yet, despite my fondness for it, I have no desire to repeat that experience.

      I understand why this strategy appeals to Stellantis; simply put