While a Porsche's flat-6 shrieks to the redline and a Corvette's V8 rumbles its encouragement to rev it up, the exhaust note of the Viper's V-10 enjoys all the melody of the Empire State Building's back-up generator.

If American muscle cars are renowned for having bags of torque, the Viper supplies its torque in Hefty bags. Try to contain the Viper's power in an ordinary trash bag and you'll be left with messy foot-pounds all over the driveway.

First gear seems too low for anything but straight-line launches. Press too anxiously on the gas pedal when the Viper is in first gear and not pointed straight and the car will soon be facing the other way; it could be easier than using reverse to turn the car around. Just crank in some steering lock, punch it, and instant 180.

Second is a much more useful and flexible gear. The V10 has enough low-rpm grunt to pull second gear exiting nearly any corner, and using the taller gear gives the driver a little margin for error. Because acceleration performance is less sudden in second gear, there is time for weight to transfer to the back. Once the car crouches a little in response to the application of power, the driver can safely pour on more and the car will rocket to 80 mph. At that point, it's time to shift into third.

Third is, of course, an all-important supplier of speed in the rapid transition between second and fourth. But it's also a great gear for driving around town. The Viper will happily chug along in slow traffic in third, yet the engine turns slowly enough in third at faster speeds that it doesn't drone as it would in second gear. It's a fun gear in the Viper.

Fourth is pretty much a highway gear. It also the highest useful gear for most racetracks. It would take a long straight on a racetrack to hit the redline in fourth gear. Fifth is for interstate highway travel. Sixth gear is for the EPA, and it contributed to the unrealistic 21-mpg highway fuel-economy rating. We saw 11 mpg in mixed driving. In sixth gear, the engine spins 1700 rpm at 80 mph. If the Viper could pull to its redline in this gear, it would have a top speed of 280 mph.

The Viper's engine doesn't seem to will the driver to delay the shift, but it does have a certain sound of remorseless efficiency to it. You can tell the difference in purpose between the dopey woof of your neighbor's Golden Retriever and the threatening bark of the vaguely Rottweiler-looking mongrel at the junkyard. When the Viper barks, as with the junkyard mutt, it pays to be on your guard. The hefty, long-throw shifter conveys that the driver is performing a significant contribution to the car's progress. This is no push-button auto shifter. Unlike a Porsche, the Viper doesn't seem smarter than the driver.

The Viper's extremely powerful brakes have no ABS assist, which seems anachronistic these days. But again, it forces the driver to earn his living, which gives the often-forgotten driver a bit of self-worth. The Viper's brakes provide huge stopping power and are easily modulated at the limit. They have the fine controllability racing drivers require.

The ride is rock hard, of course, but you know this is no Lexus before climbing in. The Viper suffers a driver-induced bump steer because it transfers road irregularities directly to the cockpit. (Actual bump steer occurs when the wheel toes in or out in response to suspension deflection because of incorrect geometry. It's a bad thing, and the Viper doesn't do it.) But if the car hits a bump when the driver has only one hand on the steering wheel and the other on, say, the shifter, the impact is sharp enough to cause the single arm to pull the steering wheel to the left. Note: Keep both hands on the Viper's steering wheel.