Dodge Viper RT10

Text: František Vahala, Photo: Ondřej Kroutil

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Not many people know this about me, but the Viper is my long-term dream car and I regularly put it on the top of my secret wishes list. Sure, the American hammer is a completely different beast from the graceful shapes of the 1950s Italian bodies, which I also adore, but the poster car is just one of a kind.

I've seen many Vipers, of course, and many different ones, including racing ones. But it was only now that I finally had an uninterrupted opportunity to take one specimen for a proper spin - without a terrified owner next to me, without time pressure, on a beautiful summer's day. Was it a life-changing experience? That might be too bold a statement, but it certainly made a difference. I long for him more than ever!

Of course, I'll get into how to drive it and the specifics that await the driver. But you know me, a bit of history first, so let's go back to the second half of the 80s when it all started. I won't go into the convoluted story, but will limit myself to a brief introduction to the plot. The idea of the whole wonderfully nonsensical thing that we have before us is mainly due to a man named Bob Lutz, who was the head of Chrysler at the time, which included the Dodge brand. And since Bob had taken over a financially quite consolidated Chrysler from another great American automotive giant, Lee Iacocca, he thought of a great way to revive the Dodge brand. He planned nothing less than a modern-day Cobra. So after coffee, he dropped into the Chrysler design center and presented his plan to Tom Gallo, who couldn't say no to this. A few months later, Gale was showing a clay model, and a little further back in time, Metalcraft's first sheetmetal-bodied concept was shown at the 1989 New York Auto Show. The public reaction could be summed up in one big wow, so the next phase of the project was given the green light. Well, almost, but we'll get to that.

Naturally, this activity caught the attention of all the car enthusiasts at the factory, so soon a "Team Viper" of 85 engineers and technicians was assembled under the leadership of Roy Sjoberg. They immediately went to work, even though the aforementioned Iacocca wouldn't release the then brutal $70 million needed for development. Nevertheless, they began their work in March 1989, and by the autumn of that year they had a production body and by December a working mule, then still with a V8 engine (The White Mule).

The engine is, of course, the heart of the car, and in the case of the Viper this is even more true. Since the plan was to use not a forked V8, but a 10-cylinder, Chrysler turned to the engine builders at Lamborghini (the Italian marque was then under Chrysler), who helped build this red-painted gem. The engine was ready in February 1990, and three months later Iacocca finally released the money, though he apparently never believed in its return. And he was right, the Viper was never worth building, because over a full 23-year cycle (1991 to 2010, then 2013 to 2017) the investment never paid off.

But the show was tremendous from start to finish. A year later, Carroll Shelby himself was driving the pre-production car as a pace car at the Indianapolis 500, the car was officially shown to the first buyers in September 1991, and deliveries to customers began in January 1992. Selling for $52,000, the mighty two-seater sports car with an 8.0-litre V10 engine delivered what was expected of it - the Dodge brand rose to unexpected heights in the eyes of enthusiasts and the motoring press. Iacocca rightly hoped that this project would whet the appetite of both designers and engineers who had had enough of the boring cars that the Dodge brand was churning out to the world in the 1980s. What's more - the popularity of the Viper perfectly eclipsed the failed "baby" of the aforementioned Iacocca, the TC project, which even cost five times more to develop than the Viper!

Assembly of the first generation, known as the SR I (targa with sill exhausts) got underway at the New Mack Assembly plant in Detroit, with the second-generation SR II (coupe, mid-back exhausts) continuing at Conner Avenue Assembly in the same steel town, where it also ended with the 2017 and third-generation. Speaking of which, the Viper was never a "mass-produced" car, with something like 31,500 units built in total, and that's over nearly a quarter century of production! That's very low by American standards, especially when compared to, say, the Corvette... Anyway, the first generation, known as the RT/10, only totaled 6,709 units!

There were four basic colors to choose from, and you can guess which was the most common... That's right, the exact one that adorns the 1994 Viper in the photos around it. It was recently brought back from Holadsko by the guys at Veterans on Truc, and before a new owner was found, Ondra and I had time to give the beast a good going over and also create modern versions of our favorite posters, which you may enjoy more than these letters.

What is it actually like? First, we're embarrassed to discover that the doors have no exterior handles, so we have to zip open the original mica-covered canvas side panels, which, along with the roof panel, form the only natural weatherproofing on the interior. After a while, we've already removed the roof panel, the side panels, and the Plexiglas under the protective arch. Then there's the tag - when we fit it to the back, it covers the lock to unlock the boot. Okay, never mind. I look inside: the steering wheel is just right, the pedals are off to the left by about five centimetres. No problem. The Viper starts perfectly normally with the key in the switch box on the steering column.

The brutal engine comes to life almost instantly with increased idle. The engine room is amazing not only to look at, but also in power - the 7990cc ten-cylinder uses a classic American OHV timing with a chain-driven central camshaft and two valves per cylinder. The fuel mixture is added by indirect sequential injection. The five-row crankshaft rotates completely continuously in the all-aluminum 323 kg monster, lubricated with 8.5 litres of oil. My hands are shaking, but I still take the lever of the Tremec T56 manual gearbox (it's already a bit truck-like) and shift into reverse to roll out of the showroom in Krenovice.

The Viper was a really fast car in its day, outperforming the aforementioned Corvette or Porsche 911 by orders of magnitude. With a weight of 1542 kg, it was mainly helped by its 406 hp (at 4600 rpm) and 631 Nm of torque (at 3600 rpm). Dynamics? The factory promised acceleration to 60 mph in 4.2 seconds and a top speed of over 160 mph, or 260 km/h.

For the first few miles, I let the engine room warm up properly and got a feel not only for the long-throw shifter but also for the whole car. At the heart of the car is a steel spaceframe that wraps around a body made of composite materials (mainly fibreglass). The chassis is the best possible setup, namely aluminium double trapezoidal struts front and rear. We'll add that the rest is made up of disc brakes at all corners, Koni hydraulic shock absorbers combined with coil springs and, finally, torsion stabilisers front and rear. The ideal combo...

Finally, we're off! I've been thinking about putting these impressions on "paper" for a long time, but guess what. I still didn't figure it out - the brute force rolls to the rear wheels with each shift through the rough gearbox and doesn't let up. It's not about the breathless torque of European sports cars, the torque is always there and you just have to dose the amount. The engine mechanically purrs at the front, but you can hear the exhaust for miles around, though it's not extreme. The gearing picks up much more briskly than the rev counter suggests, and the peak scream past the five-thousand mark is already eating hairs and making your hands cramp the firm steering wheel. The brakes are weaker, which is to be expected. But it's much more intense in the corners, when a lot of power is needed because the steering has no power assist. All the more mechanical and pure is the connection between man and machine, which after a few kilometres casually turns into the love of a lifetime.

More kilometres, more corners, a lot of burnt petrol and washed-out serotonin later, I'm driving the Viper quite nimbly on wide roads. It bounces a bit on the bumps, maybe even wiggles a bit, I don't know. I'm absolutely pulled into the action, still testing how much traction the 335/35 ZR17 rear tyres have. Since we only have eight year old tires (good for a Viper), they stick surprisingly well when combined with the readable self-locker. I don't even try skids, I rather enjoy the mechanical purity of working with a machine that is dynamically much further along than I am. I'd have to ride it for years to find the limits. My respect is justified and logical, so I look for the limit of traction very carefully. I'm more likely to rev the engine again and again, accelerate, let it slow down with the resistance of its own mass, and then loosen up again. When I notice where the speedometer has gone at one point, I tame myself again. The viper tempts me, and I want to be seduced by whatever it's up to.

It's a brilliant mechanical ride that oozes the unbridled wildness of the 80s and the wildness of the 90s, when safety and correctness weren't really an issue. The truck engine, the tractor gearbox, the lightweight body and the lack of comfort features. I'm not commenting on the useless radio, and the lack of air conditioning is cool too, but I find it fascinating that not only ESP is missing, but also ABS, the aforementioned power steering, airbags and even the outside door handles! For me: i have absolutely everything i need!

The whole experience has affected me more than it seems, but I'll share more about that next time. Anyway, a thorough research of the Viper market revealed some interesting facts. For example, that the market in the US is much bigger and cars are still quite affordable there - not like ten years ago when you could get a normal used one for $20-25,000, but still. You can get a nice car for something like $40-50,000, that is, if you're on the other side of the Atlantic. In Europe, the situation is much different. There are at most dozens (more like units) of Vipers for sale here, and many of the listings are just ads for American cars that aren't physically here. Of the ones that are here, the average price of a decent car (including low end tuning at 44,000 euros) is around 67,000 euros for the least rare red or black with over 30,000 miles (not much more than say 50,000 miles the first Vipers used to have). Super cars, like green or yellow with a clear history current quietly 80,000 euros.

And you know what? Once the next millennial enthusiasts finally catch on and make their childhood dreams come true (because they've already got them), the first Vipers will cost over 100,000 euros. And it will still be an awful lot of awesome speed metal music for a bearable price. Plus, when the technology is renowned for reliability, the bodywork doesn't rust, the consumable parts don't cost rubbish (with a few exceptions), new tyres can be bought for 50,000 and consumption would only be a concern for someone who can't appreciate that they have one of the biggest engines ever crammed under the bonnet of a passenger car. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go back to admiring the shapes, which are even more seductive in person than in the photos.