2005 Dodge Ram 1500 4wd Hemi 5.7 on 2040-cars

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1970 Dodge Charger destroyed by man sick of lowballers — he showed them!

There are open and shut cases, and there's this one, the purchase and crush case. This is so wild it's hard to believe it's real. Apparently a man named Daniel Gagliardi bought a rusted-out 1970 Dodge Charger project car with the intent to flip it. Contacted by The Drive, Gagliardi said he bought the car for $4,200 and listed it for $8,500. "It was a complete car," he said, "not missing a single thing inside, out, underneath, under the hood, wasn't missing a damn thing. Had fender tag, VIN tag, clean title." Instead of negotiating with serious buyers, Gagliardi told the outlet a stream of jokers jerked him around for six months. The time-wasting took a toll, and after 180 days of "no-showers, thousands of no-showers, and a whole bunch of flakers" who didn't have the decency to bring a decent offer and cash, he decided to teach them all a lesson. So he destroyed the car, filmed the destruction, and cheered it on. The humorous and ironic part of the video is when Gagliardi tells another man off-camera, "But we got it first! We already robbed it, you can only rob it once!" After that levity, there's only chagrin for anyone sad to see a Charger meet its end so spitefully. Admittedly, however, and in spite of all the vitriol aimed at him, Gagliardi is free to destroy his own property. He's not the first person to crush a car capriciously. Any divorce attorney could tell you a book of tales about precious goods meeting ugly ends for vindictive reasons. Or there's the guy who, commenting on Gagliardi's video on another site, relates how he crushed the Yamaha quad he wanted $800 for after he "got tired of people offering me $200." Ah well. This won't be the last time. Warning for language, and exceptionally shaky video. If you're hungry for more Charger carnage after this, check out the cinematic obliterations in "7 Ways to Destroy a Charger."

The Dodge Demon isn't the only way to a 10-second quarter mile

The Demon's rear tires smoke, the front tires lift – and in under ten seconds (after having spent $85,000) you've covered a quarter mile. In short, we fully get the attention shown Dodge's SRT Demonstrator. With disruption the operative word of the times, it's good to see a representative of the movement coming from Detroit. The SRT Demon delivers disruption in spades. There is, however, a viable alternative – and it doesn't require getting on the list at your Dodge dealer. If you want to do 0-60 in under three seconds or the quarter mile in around 10, the folks at Honda, Kawasaki, Suzuki and Yamaha – with any of their one-liter superbikes – have you covered. The gestation of what we now know as the superbike came roughly a decade after the debut of the muscle car. It was in the early '70s, as emission and safety regulations – along with rising insurance premiums – decimated the ranks of Detroit's fastest that motorcycle makers found their magical, almost mystical momentum. Honda's CB750 four was arguably the first, followed soon by Kawasaki's Mach III and Z-1. After that, it was Katie-bar-the-door, with more horsepower offered by Japanese OEMs until, invariably, insurance premiums went higher and, during the last recession, 20-somethings couldn't get affordable loans or insurance. Today, Japan's Big Four are once again engaged in a horsepower war, fueled by the rising interest in MotoGP, along with the rising profits available when selling a $20,000 motorcycle. And if that $20,000 - $10K per wheel – seems high, simple math tells you it's less than half of what you'll spend per corner if buying Dodge's Demon. The specs tell the tale. The Demon, fattened by both its flared fenders and a platform dating from the George Bush administration, supports its 4,200+ pounds on a wheelbase of 116 inches. That's in contrast to Suzuki's GSX-R1000 – redesigned for 2017 – which puts its 443 pounds atop a wheelbase of just 56 inches. To maximize its Hemi-supplied 800+ horsepower, Dodge diverts the air conditioning from the Demon's interior to the engine, which makes racing on a summer evening (you guessed it) devilishly hot. On Suzuki's GSX-R1000 – or similarly-equipped superbikes – almost all of the air at 100+ miles per hour is directed at you. To further underscore the differences, know that the GSX-R1000 and its like-minded competition can turn a quick corner, while the Demon is hard-pressed to execute a U-turn at the end of a quarter-mile straightaway.

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.