Because you have a big decision to make, one that could drive you right over the brink if you screw it up. Literally. Your midlife crisis is clearly already serious, so let’s treat the question with appropriate seriousness: Automatic or manual?
Now you’re probably thinking you’ll just go to the dealership and demand to test-drive each of them. And then buy the six-speed manual, because that’s what able-bodied Car and Driver readers do. But we’re not so sure that’s the correct course of action this time.
For starters, that first test-drive is bound to result in the dealer quickly canceling the second. Surely you will misbehave the instant you find yourself behind the wheel—that’s why Fiat-Chrysler builds this car. Even if the poor kid with the business card that only has the dealer’s logo and main number on it hasn’t been entrusted with the Hellcat’s red key, the one that unlocks all 707 of the supercharged 6.2-liter V-8’s horses, the black key still gives you 500 horsepower to manhandle. If you can’t scare junior back to his Jimmy John’s delivery job with the black key, well, maybe you’d be happy with the V-6 Challenger, the one with the minivan motor under its hood.
If, however, you are resolute, know that the eight-speed-automatic Hellcat is quicker than the manual. We covered 0 to 60 mph in 3.9 seconds in the manual, three-tenths off the pace of the automatic. And an 11.9-second quarter-mile time makes the manual two-tenths slower than the automatic at the drag strip. If bragging rights are important (and how are they not with this car?), the automatic is the one to have.
But the numbers are only part of it. Forking over $1995 for the automatic also makes the Hellcat considerably easier to manage, both as a car and as an implement of stupidity. Want to spin the tires and lay big patches of rubber? Of course you do. With the automatic, this is as simple as turning off the traction control and flexing your right ankle. Provided your speed hasn’t already passed into the triple digits, just cram the pedal to the floor and—poof—the resultant multigear downshift will turn your Pirelli P Zero rubber to smoke. Just be sure to ease up on the throttle sometime prior to impact.
The manual Hellcat will do the very same thing, but you’ll be exacting a double-downshift yourself. Good luck. The gearshift lever is canted nicely toward you, but pushing and pulling it through the gates feels like doing reps on an old Nautilus machine. The clutch demands the leg strength of a baby elephant. Invite your high-school football coach to ride shotgun and scream in your face, “Feel the burn!” and you’ll feel 17 again.
Because really, that’s what we’re all after here, isn’t it? The Hellcat is a time machine to a better place in the past, never you mind whether that past actually existed. No wonder it takes so much horsepower to get there.
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