Those who crave more than their requisite 15 minutes of fame need a Dodge Viper. Nine years and about 11,000 copies after the first one hit the streets, the Viper still bestows immediate celebrity status on its passengers. Drive one, and your arrival becomes an event at any public venue short of a seeing-eye-dog convention. Your departure only happens once the palaver and plaudits conclude. It is stardom with keys and a warranty.
Best of all, underneath the indecently exaggerated bodywork and between the absurdly thick tires is a genuine performance car. A stock Viper on a track, especially one equipped with the optional ACR package, is a fearsome weapon that is safest in the hands of professionals or people with a healthy fear of embarrassment. So much torque corkscrews past your right thigh that in any gear the car accelerates like Yeager's X-1. Flat-out turns are inhaled at triple-digit speeds, accompanied by tingling in the part of the brain containing the self-preservation instinct.
Besides the racing belts, which really just elevate the safety of the Viper's seats to the level of the car's performance, the ACR stamp puts K & N filters in the airstream said to be worth 10 horsepower and 10 pound-feet of torque. Alloy monotube shock absorbers from Dynamic Suspensions carry over from last year's Viper GTS-R, supported by Hyperco springs almost three times again as stiff as those in the standard GTS (500 pounds per inch in front and 1100 in the rear vs. 200 and 400, respectively, in the GTS). In the ACR, the Viper's normal 35-series front, 30-series rear Michelin Pilots are laminated over 18-inch one-piece BBS forged aluminum wheels. As a bonus, the suspension mods reduce unsprung weight about 14 pounds.
The upgrades of the ACR package work harmoniously to improve the Viper's manners around a track. Through corners and down the straights it feels as planted as a giant saguaro, the tires biting hard during turn-in and faithfully tracking the line unless you injudiciously prod the cast aluminum V-10 for too much power. With just 7.5 pounds for each horsepower to haul around, the engine will handily rip the massive 335 rear tires loose at command. But Chrysler, probably anticipating the result of such situations, gave the Viper a pair of smooth, linear throttles. Even in lower gears with the 10 cylinders wailing in their unique syncopated voice, oversteer control isn't as demanding as with the other cars here, especially the antsy Corvette.
That makes the Viper the sweetest and most stable of the boomers at speed. No surprise that it turned in the fastest acceleration numbers and lap times, beating the Corvette and the Cobra to the quarter-mile by 0.4 second.
But you still need titanium nerves to fully exercise the Viper on public roads. The tires never found a wheel track or rut they wouldn't follow to oblivion. With so much of the car's distant flanks out of sight, placing the leering snout between the yellow line and the guardrail is stressful exercise on narrow ribbons. "The car seems so big I can't tell where it ends or starts," commented one tingly-headed driver.
Folding yourself into the Viper is like sinking into a cast iron bathtub. The monochromatic gray walls are cold and encircle in some places to nostril level. The manual pedal adjuster increases the likelihood of achieving real comfort, although the left knees of tall drivers still meet the dash panel near the light switch. Frills are few, but an ACR can be "loaded" with air conditioning and a CD player as ours was. Actually hearing the wireless over the constant moan of the four rolling pins underneath is another matter.
Despite its flaws and its ever-climbing price, the Viper is simply lovable. It will do pretty much anything you ask of it except haul the family to the ski lodge. Just ask nicely.
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