| Engine | Power | Torque | 0-100kph | Top speed | Weight | Basic price |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| V10, 8382cc | 645bhp @ 6200rpm | 813Nm (600lb ft) @ 5000rpm | 3.2secs | 285kph | 1539kg (419bhp/ton) | $122,500 |
HIGH RES downloadable wallpapers available HERE and HERE
Before walking me through what to turn where and when to scream, Heiko makes sure I’m comfortable in the bucket seat before arming the bomb. And I’m in for a bit of a shock. Whilst the outside fits SRT’s line that the Viper is ‘more of a street-legal race car than a track-capable streetcar’, the inside is anything but, save perhaps the aftermarket data recorder mounted on the windscreen. There’s no roll cage for instance, no fire extinguisher, and aside from some aluminium door sills – which I’m encouraged not to touch since they’re already obscenely hot after a few testing laps – getting in and out is easy. There’s plenty of legroom, and just enough headroom – thanks to the double bubble roof – even with my helmet on. The Viper’s Alcantara and mixed leather upholstery remains intact. There’s a standard seatbelt rather than a racing harness, and a three-speaker audio system. There’s even a couple of cupholders just behind my right elbow.
Where perhaps the insanity of the exterior can be felt in the cabin is with the pedals, which are slightly off-centre. It doesn’t feel like I’m sitting sideways, but it does take a little getting used to, not just because the slimmed down dead pedal has been mounted higher up on the bulkhead.
My bemusement has clearly amused Heiko, who then draws my attention to the short shift gearbox. Manual: “Down the main straight, when you arrive at 240kph and shift hard down into third, you need to play with the throttle. When you brake hard, the big V10 nods, and the rear goes very light and lifts up. If you don’t play with the throttle, you’ll have too much negative torque.” He’s also quick to point out the switch key plugged into the ECU where normally you would find the bonnet release (which, in a neat touch, is mounted inside the air intake behind the driver’s side wheel). Said key records yet more data from my run, and Heiko suggests that I ‘not kick it out’ for fear of destroying four days of work before pressing the understated Stop/Start button and firing the V10 into life. On the information screen in front of me, a sneering Viper rolls over red. Here we go.
I had thought, much as you may have done, that my first impressions would be on that V10, but those will have to come later, since it’s the length of the clutch pedal that immediately grabs me. The biting point is almost absurdly high and, when found, snatches quickly, the Viper semi-bunny-hopping in tandem and the revs dropping dramatically from their 3-400rpm idle. Clearly something other than the Arabian sunlight is shining down on me though, and I manage to avoid stalling as the front tyres start to creep. There are a few moments before I hit the end of the pitlane and can start to build up the power. In front of me the speedometer range goes up to a dizzying 340kph as the V10 begins emitting a low, devious rumble.
“In front of me the speedometer range goes up to a dizzying 340kph as the V10 begins emitting a low, devious rumble”
On my first lap, ignoring Heiko’s advice for self-preservation rather than egoistic ignorance, the first corners are taken gently, 645bhp being sent leisurely to the rear wheels as I massage the throttle rather than assault it. Not something the V10 was expecting after several days of punishment as the bark from the exhaust reminds me. Already though the sensation of grip is enormous, Michael and his team having registered a colossal 1.4g during a 1m 08s best lap of the Club Circuit earlier this morning. On used tyres. With full tanks. On vapours and with fresh rubber, Heiko’s confident the ACR could lap three seconds quicker, impressive stuff given that a Porsche 911 GT3 RS would be only two or three seconds in front. Clearly the Viper can handle the abuse – 13 lap records confirm that – and as I cruise round the final long corner on my out lap, knowing I have only limited time with the ACR, I think ‘to hell with it’, and nail it down the straight.
The pick-up is astonishing, the enormous torque and power delivered violently as the revs rocket up. So much so that I fluff my first manual gear change at pace, and can manage ‘only’ 220kph before hitting the braking point and slamming the carbon ceramic discs on.
The deceleration is like hitting a tree. Heiko’s warning springs to mind too, for the shift in weight over that heavy V10 means the rear end lightens up dramatically: the front wheels stay rooted, but I can feel the back end squirrelling as the wheels desperately try to regain composure. Distracted by the sensation, and having braked earlier than I ideally should have done – again, self-preservation – I’ve scrubbed off more speed than expected, and have to wait a beat before turning into the first high speed corner. The data recorder has been switched off for my run – whether to preserve the battery or my dignity, I’m not sure – but already the traction at my disposal is immense, the front end sticking unconditionally to the line with no trace of understeer at all. Having regained their composure, the rear wheels have fallen into line, and there’s no movement at all as I start to feed the power back in towards the upcoming left-right hander.
“As I lift my foot from the clutch, my knee ends up where my left hand needs to go: I’m effectively driving the left-handers one handed”
Back on the brakes and turning the nose in again, the sensation through the wheel is breath taking. Perfect 50/50 weight distribution means there’s a beautifully neutral poise to the Viper as it switches quickly and cleanly from left to right, the transfer of weight registering but not upsetting the agility. Heiko mentions over the V10 explosion that through here 110kph ‘should be easy’, but an unexpected issue – and significantly less talent – means I’m unlikely to match this. In my haste to get out on-track, I’ve also – rather embarrassingly – moved the seat too far forward on the runners. As I lift my foot from the lengthy clutch pedal, my knee ends up exactly where my left hand needs to go: I’m effectively driving the left-handers one handed. Fortunately there are only three of them.
There’s another burst of volcanic acceleration as I ‘ker-chuck’ another short-shift gear-change – I’m getting the hang of it now – and start winding the power back in onto the next straight, a distinct lack of turbochargers ensuring there’s no lag in-sight. Side-mounted exhausts mean that the V10 soundtrack is deep and unapologetically booming, designed only to rattle the lungs and any other internal organs of the driver. Indeed, were it not for the view I have both over my shoulder and through the menacingly short windscreen, I’ve no doubt the ferocity of both the V10’s guts and lungs would – mostly – be all I can talk about on the straights. As the balance alone has emphasised though, things are not quite that simple: the even larger rear spoiler makes visibility ‘ambitious’ at best, and the sheer length of that undulating bonnet stretching forever out in front of me – shaking violently at pace thanks to the beating heart beneath and the airflow riding over it – is almost haunting. Alongside the landscape flying in a blur past the driver’s window, it’s a stunning if slightly ominous sensation of speed.
I still have a few laps to go before time is called on my experience, but quite honestly my mind is made up after two corners. As a road going supercar, I’ve no doubt the ACR would be civil enough on the inside, if perhaps a logistical nightmare on the outside: I can’t imagine that extended front splitter would survive too many road humps. But as a track weapon, the Viper is an utter beast. The ferocity of the pick-up from that V10 and the resultant, booming soundtrack might have your first impressions convinced the ACR is a barely controlled lunatic through the corners, akin to its Hellcat step-siblings. And yet, despite it’s menacing presence, it’s astonishingly well-balanced, almost dignified through the corners, direction change – despite the weight on the front axle – done with millimetric precision thanks to un-exhaustive grip and a superbly engineered chassis. It perhaps lacks the cabin civility one might hope of a supercar – certainly not through lack of trying – and questionable visibility both front and back might make you think twice about your track weapon of choice should $122K be burning a hole in your pocket. But make no mistake. The SRT Viper ACR is utterly superb.
Plus, it’s 100 per cent road legal. Did I mention that?
Technical specifications available on page 3
