Prepare to Get Demonized! A Brief Message to All Dodge Demon Buyers
From the October 2017 issue
Prepare to get Demonized!
Congratulations on the purchase of your new Dodge Demon. By now you’ve probably signed the Customer Acknowledgment Form, also known as the Demon Waiver. So you already know that the tires shatter on cloudy days and if you ordered it with one seat, you shouldn’t install a papasan chair to fill out the interior. We’re sure that you’re excited to run some nine-second quarters, Broseph or Brosephine, but there are just a few more items we need to address before you head out to the strip to sneer down on the pathetic weaklings who bought Hellcats.
First of all, your extra Demon Gear will be sent separately in a Demon Crate. For Demon Legal Reasons, we can’t deliver this to your house, so it’ll be sent to a remote mountaintop in Chile. Should you successfully repatriate your Demon Crate, congratulations! That one is filled with rocks, but it contains clues that will lead you to the real one. Which is buried in your backyard. We did that while you were in Chile. We on the Demon Team love clues and hints and whatnot. Just look at how we introduced the car, which was like The Da Vinci Code for people whose bloodstreams contain detectable levels of traction compound.
When that crowd found out that the Demon came with 315-section-width tires at all four corners, some thought it was a road-course car, like the Camaro Z/28. Ha! We’ll have you know that turning voids the warranty. After a run down the strip, you get your Demon back to the Christmas tree by driving completely around Earth. On a related note, your Demon Crate comes with a pair of skinny little wheels for drag racing. And—we can’t stress this enough—they go on the front.
Did you order a Demon with only one seat? We didn’t really think anyone would take us up on that, you sociopath. But we guess we’ll build one that way. It’ll be called the Neighbors Say He Kept to Himself package. Is there anything else we can remove but still charge you for? How about the steering wheel? For a dollar, we’ll replace it with a pair of ropes attached to the tie rods. Demons ain’t about steering, nohow. That’s the Demon motto. It’s on the T-shirt that comes in your Demon Crate.
Let’s talk power. The Demon makes 808 horsepower on pump gas, but that’s just the start. To reach its full rating of 840 horses, you’ll need to visit the chemical supply store and get some pretty hopped-up stuff. Some of it’s gonna raise flags with the ATF, but do you want to run nines or not? So what you do is put on your gas mask and pour this stuff in the tank—carefully, carefully—then back away until you can barely see the car. Use the remote starter. When you fire it up, don’t be alarmed at the noise, which will sound like the attack on Fort Sumter. That’s just the combustion chambers filling with plasma and Higgs bosons. It’s totally normal.
And guess what? Now you’re ready to pull sick wheelies. We’re supposed to say you should wheelie only at the drag strip—wink, wink—but think about how righteous it’d be to wheelie away from a toll booth or a PTA meeting or the Taco Bell drive-through. If you’re having trouble getting your Demon to wheelie, you’re probably just a bad driver because we all did it here, no problem.
Despite the unprecedented level of awesomeness that you’ve purchased, we must warn you that you’re gonna get beat. That’s just the way it is with drag racing. If you have a Viper ACR, there’s very little chance that someone’s going to show up at Virginia International Raceway and beat you with a Pinto. But that kind of thing happens at drag strips all the time. Your Demon will be beaten by tubbed Chevettes and diesel pickups and probably Teslas, assuming Teslas actually exist (many regard them as mythological). Success will depend on luck, your launch technique, and the depth of VHT on your local eighth-mile.
Speaking of drag strips, you’ll recall that the NHRA banned the Demon. Okay, it didn’t ban the car. It didn’t even lightly chastise it. It just said the Demon needs a roll cage if it runs the quarter in less than 10 seconds. So what’ll happen is, after 500 practice runs, you break 10 seconds. Then the guy in that little booth who hands you your time slip (he doesn’t actually live there, but in the woods nearby) will say: “Hey, you ran a nine! Per NHRA General Regulations, section 20, page 25, ‘full-bodied cars running between 8.50 and 9.99 and slower than 180 mph must meet the NHRA full-bodied roll-cage requirements,’ preferably using 4130 chromoly tubing welded with an approved TIG process.” Just kidding. What he’ll actually say is, “Were you the red car?” before going back to eating printer paper.
And you’ll slowly wheelie away from him, your exhaust fumes melting the windshield of the car behind you, knowing that you’ve got a car that’s good at everything, with the exception of most things. As for that Chevette, you’ll get him next time.
