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The Hemi deserves to die | Opinion

Hi. I'm Byron and I love V8s. I want them to stick around for a long, long time. But not all V8s are created equal, and I will not mourn the passing of the modern Hemi. You shouldn't either. While we may agree that its death is untimely, if you ask me, that's only because it came far too late.  Stellantis’ announcement of its new, turbocharged inline-six that is all but guaranteed to kill off the Hemi V8 has led to quite a few half-baked internet takes. The notion being suggested by some, that automotive media were brainwashed into believing the Hemi was in need of replacement, is so far divorced from reality that I openly guffawed at the notion. Journalists have been challenging Chrysler, FCA and now Stellantis for years to deliver better high-performance engines. The response has always been the same: “Why?” Why replace a heavy V8 with a lighter, all-aluminum one? Why repackage powertrains for smaller footprints and better handling vehicles? Why be better when “good enough” sells really, really well? I too mourn the departure of good gasoline-burning engines, but since when was the Hemi one? HereÂ’s a quiz: Name every SRT model with an all-aluminum engine. TimeÂ’s up. If you named any, you failed. They donÂ’t exist. This isnÂ’t GMÂ’s compact, lightweight small-block, nor is it a DOHC Ford Coyote that at least revs high enough to justify its larger footprint. The Hemi is an overweight marketing exercise that happened to be in the right place at the right time. That time was 2003, when Chrysler was still Chrysler — except it was Daimler-Chrysler and the "merger of equals" was doing a bang-up job of bleeding the company's cash reserves dry while doing virtually nothing to address its mounting legacy costs. "That thang got a Hemi?" was emblematic of the whimsical, nostalgia-driven marketing of the colonial half of the "marriage made in heaven." That was 20 years ago. 20 years prior to that, emissions-choked American V8s were circling the drain faster than a soapy five-carat engagement ring in a truck stop sink.

Values snowball for legendary Tucker Sno-Cats, latest toys of the super rich

Here's a fun-sounding vehicle perfect for the cold and snow that's currently gripping much of North America. Tucker — no, not that Tucker — just marked its 75th anniversary making the Sno-Cat, its orange-painted, four-tread snow vehicles that have inspired backcountry skiers, collectors — and increasingly, the super rich. Bloomberg in a recent story writes that demand for the Medford, Ore.-based company's products is soaring on demand from the wealthy, who need a way to get to their backcountry mountain retreats. They're also in demand from collectors and gearheads who also love snow, like two anonymous collectors who are believed to have amassed more than 200 vintage Sno-Cats. The value of vintage models has reportedly tripled in the past five years to well over $100,000 for a fully restored rig. Tucker Sno-Cat Corp. claims to be the world's oldest surviving snow vehicle manufacturer, launched by E.M. Tucker in 1942 out of a desire to design a vehicle for traveling over the kind of deep, soft snow found in the Rogue River Valley of his childhood. It was four Tucker Sno-Cat machines that helped English explorer Vivian Fuchs and his 12-man party make the first 2,158-mile overland crossing of Antarctica in 1957-58. While many of the company's competitors either shuttered or adapted to serving ski resorts with wider, heavier treads, Tucker has stuck to its formula of making lightweight vehicles to travel over deep snow. Many Tuckers use Chrysler's flat six-cylinder engine, or its Dodge Hemi V8 for larger Sno-Cats, mounted rear or centrally, with basic, no-frills aluminum cabins. Sno-Cats all have four articulating tracks that are independently sprung, powered and pivoted at the drive axle. Track options come in three different types: conventional steel grouser belt track, rubber-coated aluminum grouser belt track, and one-piece all-rubber track. Steering is hydraulically controlled by pivoting the front and rear axles for smooth movement over undulating terrain with minimal disturbance of the ground cover. The company today makes 75 to 100 Sno-Cats a year for customers including the U.S. military, oil-drilling crews in cold places like Alaska and North Dakota, and utilities. But demand is so high that it's launched a profitable service reselling and refurbishing old machines. E.M. Tucker's grandson, Jeff McNeil, now head of this division, scours Google Earth for abandoned Sno-Cats rusting in backyards that he might be able to acquire and fix up.

2018 Dodge Challenger SRT Demon First Drive | Don’t fear the Demon

"If you're not hurt, we'll be really pissed. If you are hurt, we'll still be pissed, but not quite as pissed." These are the words from Jim Wilder, the vehicle development manager of the 2018 Dodge Challenger SRT Demon, that echo through our head as we slide behind the wheel of the car for the first time. He was warning us about driving beyond our abilities, and keeping the car out of the wall. With 840 horsepower and 770 pound-feet of torque on tap from its supercharged, 6.7-liter V8, the Demon does 0-60 miles per hour in 2.3 seconds, and 0-30 mph in a second flat. If something does go wrong, it'll happen quickly. Following that talk, we had our guts sloshed as a passenger in a blurry eighth-mile run, giving us a taste of the G forces (the Demon can pull 1.8 G in a straight line) we'd feel when we got in the driver's seat for our own pass down the drag strip. We're already sweating. It had rained - you could describe it as torrential - the day before. The grassy parking areas surrounding Lucas Oil Raceway were still flooded, but any water on the pavement had evaporated and hung in the air. Combined with the heat, we were sticky and uncomfortable. In Drag Mode, the Dodge Demon's air conditioning turns off. Any condensation that it could leave on the track would be a problem, plus we need to reduce parasitic power losses for a faster run. The system is still working, though, the refrigerant diverted to the chiller system cooling the air coming into the engine. There's still condensation, but the Demon collects it on a catch pad to keep it from ending up on the pavement. We're also required to roll the windows up when entering the drag strip. For one thing, it helps keep the smoke out of the cabin during the pre-staging burnout. So, yeah, it's hot as Hell in the Demon. We pull through the water box and run through the sequence – which involves holding the "OK" button on the steering wheel usually used to navigate menus, and applying a specific amount of brake pressure before getting on the throttle to initiate the burnout. This gets any crud off the rear tires and heats up the rubber. There are multiple ways to launch the Demon. We had an instructor sitting in the passenger seat as we pulled up to the beams that trigger the Christmas tree at Lucas Oil Raceway. He walks us through the most complicated of the three he had explained to us just minutes before when we were in the passenger seat.