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| The SRT8 picks up speed alarmingly fast. (Photo: Trevor Hofmann, Canadian Auto Press) |
The track dips dramatically at first, bending into a lethargic right-hander before darting 90-degrees to the right and then another 90 to the left again. Getting this combination of complex corners right is a feat I'm still attempting to master, despite having driven this course on four separate occasions this year alone, but the grand sedan follows my line with minimal tire squeal and maximum adhesion, clipping the curbs with adequate suspension travel so as not to be thrown off its course, before drifting to the outside of the track upon exit, readying for a long, sweeping left-hand curve that allows a tempting opportunity to stretch its legs.
Stretch it does, 60, 70, 80, 90, 100 mph on a reverse camber corner, that's enough for a first run in a car that I'm hardly familiar with yet. After dabbing the brakes a bit to set up the next curve, the track sweeps to the right, allowing a nip of the curb again before charging down the first back straight... well it's straight other than an off-camber dogleg about a quarter of the way down.
This is where the SRT8 picks up speed alarmingly fast, alarmingly because a hairpin right-hander can sneak up in a rather disconcerting fashion, but no worries as the large car's all-disc Brembo braking system clamps down hard on its huge rotors with red-painted calipers, scrubbing off speed in uncanny fashion and once again setting up what might be the most important corner on the circuit.
If you don't get this one right, staying far enough to the left of the track before turning sharply to the right, nipping the curb and slowly unwinding the wheel so that the car finds its way to the far side of the exit, it's a long, lonely uphill grind to the crest of the second back straight. Again,
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| Even the sizeable curbs are no match for the SRT8's adequately tall suspension travel. (Photo: Trevor Hofmann, Canadian Auto Press) |
the SRT8 is surprisingly easy to negotiate at an alarmingly quick rate, body roll minimized even when asked to do the stuff of two-seat sports cars. I manhandle it through the corner with a deftness that goes beyond my normal abilities, a considerable feat being that I previously switched off the electronic stability program so as not to burn through the ABS-enhanced four-wheel discs. I feather the throttle at exit, continuing the downward motion with my right foot towards full power, on my way up the back straight. The speed climbs once again... 70, 80, 90, 100, 110, 120 mph, before the necessity to get hard on the binders in order to set up a seemingly hard right-hand sweeper.
