In Praise of Power and Capability You'll Never Use
God bless the Dodge Demon.
Back in 1974, Lieutenant Hiroo Onoda of the Imperial Japanese Army came out of his mountain retreat, accepted the Emperor's surrender to the United States, and was formally relieved of duty by his superior officer—nearly 30 years after the end of World War II. It is possible, although unlikely, that there are other Japanese holdouts on the minor islands scattered across the Pacific Ocean. If that is the case, they will probably surrender shortly, because they, like the rest of us, have been carpet-bombed into submission by all of the publicity regarding the recently-released Dodge Demon and its 9.65-second quarter-mile time.
They are talking about the Demon in the frozen tundra of Siberia, across the barren wastelands of the Outback. Right now, there are two tribesmen in the Amazon rainforest who have never seen so much as a bicycle, and they are arguing about whether or not the two-step launch RPM in the Demon should be set for DOT drag radials or Mickey Thompson slicks. An alien spacecraft that had just passed Mars on its way to utterly subjugate the people of Earth is waiting anxiously at a Lagrange point to find out when the first Demon will appear on the "wrecked exotics" websites.
There's been so much discussion about the big Dodge that some people, mostly young men with fiber-optic connections to the Internet and jobs working the night shift in fast-food restaurants, have been hospitalized with "Demon anxiety," defined as fear of being the last person in one's social group to actually see the mighty 840-horsepower coupe lift its front wheels in anger. Hundreds of ad-hoc emergency 12-step groups have been formed to help Hellcat owners cope with their agitation over the fact of the Demon's existence. Many of them are already in the fourth stage of grief, which is "bargaining" with their local tune shop for a new supercharger and some dyno time with which to test it.
Sources from General Motors are already attempting to remind everybody that the Camaro ZL1 is almost certainly much faster around a racetrack than a Demon. These efforts are doomed to fail. Look for the ZL1 to be discontinued immediately, followed by the termination of the Camaro production as President Trump forces GM to use the facility for additional Demon production the same way FDR compelled Ford to build the Willys "Jeep" during World War II.
There will be a Demon around every corner. The press kits have cleared the thousand-dollar mark on eBay and they can only go up from there. An entire generation of portly, sweat-stained journalists has already used their press kits as collateral on gambling debts, lines of credit, child-support obligations. Counterfeit Demon hats now outnumber real Demon hats a hundred to one. A cottage industry of verification experts has sprung up overnight. They tell us that there is a missing stitch in the logo of the genuine hat. Three hours ago, the factory in China that makes the fake hats started leaving out that stitch as well. Radiation dating is now your only sure way to tell. The test process destroys the hat and can be fatal to anyone in the vicinity. The Herald-Post-Intelligencer of Milltownville Indiana regrets to inform its readers that both of its "Wheels" reporters died today of radiation poisoning.
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