HizliBullet
GT350
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"This stupid-fast coupe will make violent love to your earhole"
The Ford Mustang Shelby GT350R has a set of $475 racing stripes that look as though they were adhered to its Grabber Blue body by a middle schooler prepping a science fair poster. Surrounding its grippy Recaro seats and precise aluminum-tipped 6-speed stick, it has myriad interior trim bits that appear to have been sourced from a stripper Fiesta (or, a stripper’s Fiesta.) It has no back seat, only a pair of semicircular wells carpeted in dryer lint in which our photographer’s camera and drone tumble in a heavy-duty spin cycle. It costs as much as a Mercedes-Benz C63 coupe, which is to say, over $68,000
But all of this is forgiven as soon as we depress the delightfully light clutch and hit the red START button, rousing to life its 526 horsepower 5.2-liter V-8, a version of the motor from the $33,000 Ford Mustang GT that has been so massaged and modified as to merit its own name, Voodoo. We would like to worship with the Houngan who presided over its sinful cursing, and visit the Hounfour at which he practices. It should be easy to find, just follow the husky 92-decibel wail this free-spinning, flat-crank aluminum ingot emits under full throttle. The default setting for the bi-modal exhaust is not Sport. The only explanation for this baffling baffling is to prevent the foundation of our Las Vegas hotel parking structure from crumbling upon startup. It should illegal to drive this car with the exhaust not in Sport.
Traffic along the Vegas Strip during the Consumer Electronics Show grows dense so we bail and head toward Mount Charleston, the region’s tallest peak and the state’s most topographically prominent. The Humboldt-Toiyabe National Forest that surrounds it is home to hundreds of miles of twisty and generally unpopulated roads that wend through passes, along ridges, and across blasted slaloms of eroded rock formations that resemble windowless Gaudi apartment towers. If there was anyone or anything still dwelling in them—in our realm, or the Voodoo zomboid—our proximal runs, in second gear, at or near the Snake’s 8250 rpm redline, most certainly roused, deafened, or defenestrated them.
The presence of thickly misted clouds clinging to the peaks, signs pointing to pull-offs for the attachment of tire chains, precipitation through plummeting temperatures, and a triumvirate of patrolling snowplows almost kept us from the mountain’s upper reaches, which would have been a mistake. Not only would we have missed the mid-century A-frame Lodge on top, with its central fireplace and spectacular views. We wouldn’t have found Deer Creek Road, a blessed two-lane that plaits deep into the surrounding wilderness. One spur led to a Federal Aviation Administration radar facility. Another dead-ended at a juvenile prison camp, fitting for Ford’s baddest bad-boy. Families of campers and mountain bikers were our only accomplices. Mothers clamped hands over their children’s ears as we passed. The children cheered.
The Ford Mustang Shelby GT350R is meant for the track. But if you’re wearing a helmet, and all that other chatty audio garb, you can’t hear it (and, chances are, you’re not a pro and have no spectators, so neither can they.) That seems like a waste. If you’re going to spend $65,000 on a high-test Mustang that sounds like heaven, do everyone a favor and drive it on public streets. In Sport mode.
Don’t take my word for it, though. Listen to the Mustang snarl and howl below.
http://www.menshealth.com/guy-wisdom/ford-mustang-chelby-gt350r
The Ford Mustang Shelby GT350R has a set of $475 racing stripes that look as though they were adhered to its Grabber Blue body by a middle schooler prepping a science fair poster. Surrounding its grippy Recaro seats and precise aluminum-tipped 6-speed stick, it has myriad interior trim bits that appear to have been sourced from a stripper Fiesta (or, a stripper’s Fiesta.) It has no back seat, only a pair of semicircular wells carpeted in dryer lint in which our photographer’s camera and drone tumble in a heavy-duty spin cycle. It costs as much as a Mercedes-Benz C63 coupe, which is to say, over $68,000
But all of this is forgiven as soon as we depress the delightfully light clutch and hit the red START button, rousing to life its 526 horsepower 5.2-liter V-8, a version of the motor from the $33,000 Ford Mustang GT that has been so massaged and modified as to merit its own name, Voodoo. We would like to worship with the Houngan who presided over its sinful cursing, and visit the Hounfour at which he practices. It should be easy to find, just follow the husky 92-decibel wail this free-spinning, flat-crank aluminum ingot emits under full throttle. The default setting for the bi-modal exhaust is not Sport. The only explanation for this baffling baffling is to prevent the foundation of our Las Vegas hotel parking structure from crumbling upon startup. It should illegal to drive this car with the exhaust not in Sport.
Traffic along the Vegas Strip during the Consumer Electronics Show grows dense so we bail and head toward Mount Charleston, the region’s tallest peak and the state’s most topographically prominent. The Humboldt-Toiyabe National Forest that surrounds it is home to hundreds of miles of twisty and generally unpopulated roads that wend through passes, along ridges, and across blasted slaloms of eroded rock formations that resemble windowless Gaudi apartment towers. If there was anyone or anything still dwelling in them—in our realm, or the Voodoo zomboid—our proximal runs, in second gear, at or near the Snake’s 8250 rpm redline, most certainly roused, deafened, or defenestrated them.
The presence of thickly misted clouds clinging to the peaks, signs pointing to pull-offs for the attachment of tire chains, precipitation through plummeting temperatures, and a triumvirate of patrolling snowplows almost kept us from the mountain’s upper reaches, which would have been a mistake. Not only would we have missed the mid-century A-frame Lodge on top, with its central fireplace and spectacular views. We wouldn’t have found Deer Creek Road, a blessed two-lane that plaits deep into the surrounding wilderness. One spur led to a Federal Aviation Administration radar facility. Another dead-ended at a juvenile prison camp, fitting for Ford’s baddest bad-boy. Families of campers and mountain bikers were our only accomplices. Mothers clamped hands over their children’s ears as we passed. The children cheered.
The Ford Mustang Shelby GT350R is meant for the track. But if you’re wearing a helmet, and all that other chatty audio garb, you can’t hear it (and, chances are, you’re not a pro and have no spectators, so neither can they.) That seems like a waste. If you’re going to spend $65,000 on a high-test Mustang that sounds like heaven, do everyone a favor and drive it on public streets. In Sport mode.
Don’t take my word for it, though. Listen to the Mustang snarl and howl below.
http://www.menshealth.com/guy-wisdom/ford-mustang-chelby-gt350r
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