   2014 Jeep Grand Cherokee SRT. Click image to enlarge |
Luckily, our Jeep comes equipped with a very practical solution called “traction control” which Chrysler advises is to be used judiciously for on-track situations. To which I reply that this vehicle couldn’t be any less judicious if you drove it through a library doing burnouts and blasting Motörhead. Flick the Selec-Terrain control to Track mode, press a colourful button helpfully marked “Launch Control”, stomp on the brake with the left foot, stomp on the accelerator with the right foot, and wait for the light to change.
If you attempt this sort of maneuver with a PDK-equipped 911, the car holds its keening engine way up in the powerband, and then skitters off the line like a thoroughbred that’s just seen a snake. In the SRT, all that happens is that the revs climb about a third of the way up the tachometer, and the truck sits up on its haunches and begins making a noise like an allosaur that’s missed a few meals.
The light goes green, I step off the brake pedal, and the Earth explodes.
There’s no slip, no wheel-spin – all four hundred and seventy Clydesdale-sized horsepower are instantly transferred to the ground and we are outta’ here. I feel like the football in that Budweiser commercial.
Wham – a split-second upshift from the eight-speed autobox hammers us forward, racing towards highway speed like we’ve just harpooned a passing semi and are getting instantly dragged up to speed. I laugh, John swears. That’s probably enough of that nonsense – for now.
At speed, the SRT displays a few bad table manners. It’s certainly comfortable in here, with nicely bolstered, suede-lined seats, and in Chrysler’s UVO, it’s got one of the better infotainment systems in the business. Its essential Grand Cherokee-ness includes plenty of space out back for our gear, and decent sightlines, and the ride is pretty good, even with the stiffer SRT suspension.
 2014 Jeep Grand Cherokee SRT. Click image to enlarge |
Also quite surprising is the level of quality in the construction. I half expected that the SRT’s Mopar-muscle performance would be combined with that same unlovable cheapness we’re all so used to from Chrysler, but as my tester was equipped with an optional leather luxury package, it’s actually quite nice in here. There’s none of that plasticized rhino-butt surfacing you get in a Mustang GT – not a directly comparable vehicle perhaps, but in the same steroidal vein.
Mind you, at the price this machine commands, you expect a few interior niceties. No arguing with the stereo though; as we approach Seattle and pull in at the Experience Music Project (EMP), it’s cranking out some of Seattle’s finest ’90s-era grunge with verve.
The EMP is a museum perhaps most famous for its Frank Gehry–designed construction, which is meant to architecturally pay homage to a smashing guitar. Certainly, the SRT would smash its guitar if it had one, although now that I think about it, it’d probably be a drummer. We take in the displays, and notice that Jaguar’s holding their press event for the new F-type here later in the evening. When we get out to the SRT, a few of the Jag staff are looking it over. They seem a little bemused by so much naked aggression – and these are the guys who made a car sound like a Hawker Hurricane chewing up an Me-109.
But I digress… back in the saddle and off to the LeMay museum via the I-5. The police are out in force today (I watch one poor unfortunate get pulled over after he passes me at no more than ten klicks over the limit), so we engage the radar-guided cruise control and settle back.
