I had zero expectations for this car. I thought, "Two-door Charger: So what?" But then I got in, the Doobie Brothers' "China Grove" came on the radio, and within half a mile I was Wooderson from Dazed and Confused, asking rhetorical questions about high school girls and wondering where to find the next keg party. My sideburns started growing like a Chia Pet doused with Miracle-Grow.
This car isn't about numbers, because it's pretty obvious that it wouldn't keep up with a BMW 128i on any sort of back road. This car is all about the exhaust note, the six-speed pistol-grip shifter, the way it lights up the tires through third gear in the rain. I love it. It's not a sports car, and neither is it very practical. The Challenger is whimsical, and it makes me nostalgic for an era that I don't even remember. The high point of my day was probably when I ripped a doughnut in the Challenger, slewing sideways while I blasted "Space Cowboy" on the stereo. Eventually, I pulled into the parking lot, but I didn't get out of the car until the song ended.
Ezra Dyer, Contributing Writer