Is the Dodge Charger Sixpack Even a Muscle Car?

The latest gas-fed Charger doesn’t hit the same notes as its forebears, but it does pull from its heritage in other ways.

Back in the early aughts, when vintage muscle cars were still relatively affordable, I distinctly remember calling off my search for a late ’60s Chevelle after watching the car chase in Bullitt. While Steve McQueen’s Mustang fastback defined the concept of effortless cool, it was the sinister, hubcap-chucking triple-black 1968 Dodge Charger R/T driven by the bad guy that caught my attention. The rumor that racer and Hollywood car builder Max Balchowsky had to modify the Mustang’s 390-cubic-inch V-8 to ensure it could keep up with the 440-powered Charger only added to the appeal. That eventually led me to buy a big-block-powered ’68 Charger of my own, a car that probably spent more time on a lift than it did on the road before I finally let it go. I still miss it to this day.

After stints in a few Fox-body Mustangs as well as some more pragmatic people movers that could better withstand a daily commute in Los Angles traffic, I returned to the Mopar fold when Dodge introduced the full model range of the resurrected Challenger for 2009. Unlike the year prior, both the 2009 SRT8 and the then-new R/T models could be optioned with a six-speed manual transmission, a non-negotiable requirement for me.

I drove that black R/T for a number of years, eventually landing an auto journo gig along the way. Despite having the opportunity to drive all sorts of awesome machinery over that time, I only sold the R/T so I could upgrade to a manual-equipped Challenger SRT Hellcat. To me, the Hellcat was a physical manifestation of the ridiculous stuff that I used to doodle in the margins of my notebook during math class—brash, excessive, and radiating hooligan energy. It spoke to me on a primal level.

What Made a Muscle Car in the First Place?

The debate over what truly defines a muscle car has been going on for decades, but to me, the criteria is straightforward: a rear-drive, front-engine, intermediate-body car with a burly V-8 under the hood. Ideally, it should also be unapologetically extroverted, a little bit unhinged dynamically, and available with a manual transmission. The Dodge Charger Sixpack is literally none of these things. It is, however, a car that seems to channel inspiration from other aspects of the Charger’s heritage. We’ll come back to that part in a minute.

Dodge’s full-sized LX cars didn’t perfectly fit into the muscle car mold, either. But they got a pass because the motoring public of today doesn’t buy rear-drive passenger cars in volumes large enough for most automakers to justify developing several models to compete in multiple segments. And beyond that, Dodge simply understood the assignment. Things have changed, though, and in the aftermath of the automaker’s recent identity crisis, I feel like the muscle car concept has now been stretched beyond any reasonable limit.

Dodge markets the Charger as the most powerful muscle car on sale today. But while it is true that there are versions of the latest Charger that outshine the Ford Mustang Dark Horse in terms of output, I can’t help but wonder what criteria the automaker is using to classify the Charger Sixpack as a muscle car.

Now offered alongside the Charger Daytona EV, all versions of the Sixpack are motivated by a 3.0-liter twin-turbocharged Hurricane inline-six engine. The boosted mill produces 420 horsepower in R/T models, while Scat Packs get a high-output iteration that makes 550 hp. All-wheel drive is standard on all current Charger models, as is an automatic transmission (or in the case of the Charger Daytona, a single-speed direct-drive unit). Considering the fact that the Charger Sixpack is also nearly a foot and half longer and 1,000 pounds heavier than the Mustang, it’s harder than ever to see these two as direct competitors.

Six Cylinders, All-Wheel Drive, and 1,000 Extra Pounds

Don’t get me wrong; the “Bludicrous” Charger Sixpack Scat Pack I recently spent some time with has plenty of charisma, and its exterior styling pays homage to the second-generation Charger in a number of commendable ways. The interior design is a big step forward from the LX cars, as well, thanks not only to its modernized tech but also to its improved ergonomics. But something that stood out to me was that this well-optioned, ostensibly performance-focused model was delivered to me here in L.A. on all-season tires and a suspension equipped with conventional, non-adaptive dampers.

After a few minutes of poking around in the online configurator, I discovered that there currently isn’t a way to option adaptive dampers, summer tires, and a more earnestly sport-tuned Competition suspension setup on a Charger Sixpack—all of which are available for the Charger Daytona EV. As a result, the Sixpack was simply outgunned on almost every front when we recently compared its instrumented test figures to a similarly priced Mustang Dark Horse.

Comfort First, Chaos Second

To its credit, the Charger Sixpack is a much easier car to live with on a daily basis. The outsized dimensions equate to a spacious cabin and tons of cargo room, and there are still enough physical controls in the mix to keep common functions easy to access without taking your attention off the road. The suspension tuning is similarly prudent, striking a solid balance between ride quality and body control in everyday driving situations. And although its nasally growl sounds like it should be coming out of the tailpipes of a BMW rather than a Dodge, the high-output Hurricane also delivers a healthy amount of shove with minimal turbo lag.

The story changes, however, when you start to hustle this thing. Without the benefit of adjustable dampers, that sensible suspension tuning equates to generous helpings of dive, squat, and roll. Combine that with a soft brake pedal and tires that cry out in agony any time you attack a corner with purpose, and you have a car that just doesn’t seem particularly interested in being pushed.

Those unavailable upgrades that I mentioned earlier would likely make a substantial difference here, but truth be told, this car’s sheer size and weight will always be an albatross around its proverbial neck when compared to most other similarly priced performance coupes. And for that reason, I think Dodge is doing the Charger Sixpack a disservice by characterizing it as a muscle car instead of just embracing what it is: a personal luxury vehicle.

Maybe It Was Never Meant to Be a Muscle Car

Although the concept dates to the 1920s, personal luxury vehicles really hit their stride in the ’70s with cars like the Buick Riviera, Ford Thunderbird, and Chrysler Cordoba. Obligatory Corinthian leather jokes aside, these massive coupes offered buyers lots of style and the suggestion of performance, but they ultimately emphasized comfort and posh amenities over outright capability.

This plays directly into the two-door Charger Sixpack’s inherent strengths: head-turning style; a spacious, well-appointed interior; civil ride quality; and a smooth, unobtrusive powertrain that’s ultimately happier working in the background as opposed to being the star of the show. It wouldn’t be an unprecedented turn for the nameplate, either; the fourth-generation Charger SE, which shared its platform architecture with the Cordoba, adopted a similarly luxury-focused persona in the mid-1970s. Dodge could also lean further into the Charger Sixpack’s new positioning by raiding the Ram and Jeep parts bin for luxury items like massaging seats, McIntosh audio system components, and high-end upholstery materials.

The Charger Sixpack might not have the same clarity of purpose as that black R/T did when it roared through the streets of San Francisco more than half a century ago. But with a few minor tweaks to the options sheet and a reworked marketing approach, it could become the car that sparks a modern resurgence of a different kind.