Melbourne to Sidney: The North American way - carsales.com.au (2024)

Child’s play
Truck drivers refer to it as Sesame Street.

Anyone who has driven the Hume Highway in Australia knows its sparse stretches are constant fodder for the dash cam highlight reel. With flat, open plains and strict speed limits, the famous thoroughfare between Sydney and Melbourne isn’t exactly an inspiring trip for driving enthusiasts.

There is a North American alternative to our Hume: Melbourne in the sub-tropical state of Florida to ‘Sidney’ in the decidedly ‘un-tropical’ state of New York. Overdo the roadside diners and you get the great Australian road trip with an added cholesterol gorge.
The idea to compare the Hume’s U.S. equivalent at first seemed like a flight of fancy: travel to Florida, pick up a car and complete the journey in time for the New York Auto Show.

Good news arrived just weeks ahead of the show: the folks at Dodge not only agreed to my request for a car, they assigned an almighty Challenger SRT Hellcat for a week. And, let’s face it: 707 horsepower sounds like an appropriate number in the gun-wielding US of A.

Five days, an empty canvas and a corporate credit card (mostly for the fuel) are at our disposal. Let the adventure begin.

First sighting
“Wow, it really likes to make its presence known,” remarks Todd, my co-driver for the 2500km journey upon seeing the Hellcat’s bright yellow livery for the first time.

We’re in Miami, Florida for day one of this adventure and the Hellcat may as well be a parade float on Independence Day. Passers-by simply marvel, police nod in recognition and even in the CBD, where the nonplussed corporates are seemingly too concerned with their Versace suits to care about something on four wheels, the Hellcat is an unapologetic centre of attention, whipping up a frenzy of iPhones.

Not bad for a State where the retina-burning bright floral shirts worn by retirees provide fodder for much satirical humour in other parts of the country.

Lowering into the co*ckpit for the first time and prodding the starter button, it’s like I’ve settled into a storied family couch which has been handed down from generation to generation. The Hellcat fits like a glove, with a surprisingly tactile level of finish across its broad front seats, dashboard and door trims. I entered expecting Ford Mustang levels of plastic-fantastic, but what I got was something better thought-out. Comfortable, even.

At first, the astounding feature of the Hellcat’s 6.2-litre supercharged engine is the way it bludgeons the car’s 2017kg kerb weight along the road at low speed. The inertia from the engine’s eight bustling cylinders is such that, after merely nudging the accelerator from standstill, the car is able to maintain speed (30-40km/h).

The noise is another nostalgic nod. Holy crap, it’s tough. You almost want to sear the Hellcat’s ‘V8’ moniker on your back after hearing its blaring, unapologetic bite. And that’s just off idle.

Heading north
From ‘The Magic City’ of Miami, one with a decidedly Cuban bent and a penchant for big money materialism, it’s a three-hour drive to our official starting point in Melbourne, Florida.

After navigating Miami’s various bridges - which cross waterways loaded with fast power boats and jaw-dropping superyachts - then passing numerous glamourous resorts surrounded by exclusive golf clubs, the journey North finally begins in earnest and the road is actually very reminiscent of our beloved Hume: flat highway interspersed by low-lying shrubbery and the occasional servo. Even the 70mph (113km/h) speed limit feels familiar.

The first stop comes in the form of the Kennedy Space Centre, the physical launch pad for famous missions such as the Apollo quest which took man to the moon. Like most museums in the US, the centre is an oversized but fitting commemoration, and definitely worth a look.

“Hey, you guys got a spare $20? I’ll take it off your hands.” And there it is: the very first of many drag race propositions during our journey. The voice turns out to be Paul, a likeable Florida native who owns a 2010 Chevrolet Camaro SS with a healthy spree of modifications.

Paul’s proposal is made in jest. Like many Americans, he simply wants to inspect the Hellcat in the metal and shoot the breeze. It’s one of the great things about North America; the car culture is one of encouragement and acceptance, which contrasts sharply with Australia’s tall-poppy syndrome, where the common pretence is to ignore rather than acknowledge.

Rolling into Melbourne, Florida, instantly shatters comparisons with the Australian equivalent. The U.S. namesake of about 80,000 people is bereft of high-rises or cricket grounds, is flat in layout and survives on a healthy industrial diet with a local chemical company and the military both major employers.

The old-town centre exudes a village charm which isn’t lost on this correspondent. Similarly enticing is the local donut store, which offers a decadent selection of sugar-laden creations. You gotta sample the local cuisine, I figure.

After a night in Melbourne, the following morning we make the first of many fuel stops before re-joining the Interstate 95 bound for the Daytona Speedway.

Everything’s bigger in the USA
Witnessing the speedway in person is a little like gazing at the Sydney Harbour Bridge.
This massive alter to internal combustion is truly impressive; its sprawling track layout, immaculate presentation and sheer size helping to reinforce why NASCAR is such a big deal in the US.

Even during our mid-week visit, in-house tours are completely booked and the security level rivals Fort Knox. It all seems at odds with U.S. reports the NASCAR genre is losing its shine, both in terms of crowd numbers and sponsorship dollars.

Ten minutes down the road is the stunning Daytona Beach. For circuit racing aficionados, the beach remains an important site, one where stock car pioneers began honing their craft and laying the foundations for the sport.

Happily, you can still drive on the beach today. Simply turn up, pay the $10 entry to the parking attendant, and pick out your bathing spot from any point on 10 kilometres worth of pristine coastline.

“Now, this is Florida,” I say to co-driver Todd. Bikini-clad women, white sand and turquoise waters help to slow time. Unfortunately for us, the stop is only momentary. We must push on to the first of nine border crossings: Georgia.

Thirsty work
If there’s one consolation for the Hellcat’s insatiable appetite for petrol, at least gasoline is cheap. The further North we travel, the closer we verge on the magic $US2 a gallon figure – or about 50 cents per litre in Australian terms.

Our second official fuel stop signals steady outright progress. The Floridian accent has now swapped to the more distinctive southern drawl commensurate with the state of Georgia.

We are also moving into tornado territory, as incessantly signalled by the Hellcat’s on-board weather-watching system.

The dark clouds dissipate as we pull into pretty Savannah for our second night. Situated on the banks of the Savannah River, the town itself is both quaint and picturesque. Cobble-stone streets and paddle boats punctuate its olde-worlde appeal as much as the eclectic mix of architecture.

To this point, the Hellcat has chewed up the journey. Its long road trip amenity is punctuated by excellent highway gearing (a lowly 1800rpm at 110km/h), a breezy ride and excellent noise suppression traits – both in spite of our car’s 20-inch wheels and optional summer performance tyres.

However, when we detour inland, through the Carolinas, South and North, and into Tennessee, the roads change.

Tail of the Dragon
Here we have the US version of Bathurst’s Mount Panorama, only on steroids.
‘The Tail of the Dragon’ is arguably America’s greatest driving road and a worthwhile detour for anyone travelling the east coast. The raw numbers are stunning: 318 corners in the space of 18 kilometres.

The road itself starts close to the township of Robbinsville, near the borderline between North Carolina and Tennessee. Its approach is heralded by a series of big elevation changes and the introduction of some truly captivating landscapes: rolling green mountains, sheered cliffs and an increasingly encroaching tree canopy.

“This is mainly a motorcyclist’s road, but it attracts enthusiasts of all varieties,” says Brian, a Robbinsville local and regular rider of The Dragon.

“What’s a good time to complete the entire stretch?” I ask.

“A good time for someone out of town is under 13 minutes. But for a local it’s basically anything under 10 minutes,” Brian deadpans. “Ten minutes! That’s insane,” I respond.

“There’s a rumour around that some guys have done it in nine minutes. I even heard about a guy who did it in 8:30 minutes,” says Brian, a humble and amiable figure who quietly confesses to recently joining the magic 10 minute club.

Any thought of re-writing the land speed record and piloting the Hellcat to a new benchmark is quickly dispersed on approach to this legendary road.

A large tree just before the first corner of the Dragon bears the broken efforts of many enthusiasts before me. The big oak-like structure is adorned in broken motorcycle fairings, car spoilers, misplaced mirrors and damaged safety gear. The tree of broken dreams, as it were.

The placement of these left-overs is obviously deliberate, so I begin by threading the big Hellcat through the forest with an added degree of caution.

This road is awe-inspiring; open enough to develop some kind of flow and call on the Hellcat’s mid-range reserves, tight enough to keep speeds below ridiculous levels, and challenging enough to keep even the best-versed drivers/riders on their toes.

It’s as though the road blends some of the best parts of the world’s greatest racetracks. We count an authentic imitation of Bathurst’s dipper, a cambered attempt at the Nurburgring’s decorated carousel and several unnerving sections which bear resemblance to the Eau Rouge/Raidillon section of the Spa-Francorchamps layout in Belgium.

Two runs of this asphalt Disneyland are enough to satisfy my urges, especially on this wet, greasy day. Also sufficient to affirm the Hellcat is no-one trick pony, as it enamours with sure-footed brakes and half-decent dynamic traits.

The big Dodge cannot completely mask its heft on the road, though it does a decent imitation with excellent front end grip, light but accurate steering and an acute sense of what the rear-wheels are doing (helped by a tight-leashed stability control suite). It’s a car which will work with the driver so long as the driver works with it.

In saying that, there’s no doubting over-eager pilots would be punished the moment they disrespected the Hellcat’s power. As such, we barely nudge 5000rpm on this wet day, instead short-shifting and working with the bustling reserves of supercharged goodness to put together a fast but safe run of the Dragon.

Sitting at the mid-point of this spectacular thoroughfare and contemplating its greatness – a spectacular lookout of a nearby water reservoir, no less – we meet a Volkswagen Golf car club which has travelled from Chicago. Their highly modified machines, some with anti-lag, seem like the perfect accomplice for the Dragon’s challenging layout.

Making progress
With the fuel readout left a little distorted, Todd and I continue onto Knoxsville, Tennessee - home each year to speedway’s iconic Knoxsville Nationals sprintcar show - for the evening.

A last-minute hotel booking gets us a spot in the centre of town surrounded by decent restaurants and hints of a bustling nightlife in the warmer months.

The next day is a whopper, about 10 hours of driving, taking in Tennessee, Virginia, West Virginia, Maryland and Pennsylvania.

Our urgency doesn’t go un-noticed by one slightly intimidating highway trooper from Marion, Virginia, who clearly wants to assert his authority.

The Hellcat continues unperturbed, only hindered by the increasing prevalence of left-lane hoggers (the overtaking lane in North America). Hume Highway drivers in Australia would be all too familiar with this annoying lack of lane etiquette.

Our journey North is intercepted by another Dodge Challenger enthusiast, Dan Oldham, who challenges us to a short acceleration comparison with his very tidy R/T Challenger. It is an eye-opening exercise, just to see how quick the Hellcat really is.

A quick stop in Hershey, Pennsylvania - the birthplace of Hershey’s chocolates - provides us with sufficient sugar and petrol for our final stretch into Scranton.

The big smoke

“Well, it’s certainly not as big as Sydney, Australia,” says Todd, wearing a wry smile.
Sidney, New York, is a far cry from its Australian namesake. The population hovers on 5000 people, the bridge in and out of town is small by the comparison and the mercury tips a chilly -2 degrees Celsius on our visit. There’s also snow on the ground.

Back home, colleagues are writing their final words on HSV’s swansong GTSR W1, a genuine but bitter sweet exclamation point on the Australian car industry.

Half a world away, there’s a feeling of optimism around the Hellcat. It’s clear the muscle car dream ain’t over yet. The day it is, road trips such as this will clearly never be the same.

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