The Original Hemi Charger Is On a Hot Streak

For several reasons, today’s recently departed Hellcats owe their thanks to the 1966 Dodge Charger, like the one profiled and driven here. Though mechanically the original Charger owed much to an existing Dodge model (the Coronet) this was the first time that the Charger name denoted a distinct model, rather than a trim package on another line. The ’66 Charger was also Dodge’s opening salvo in the muscle car wars, mostly because parent company Chrysler forbade it from building a smaller (A-body) car to compete with the Mustang. And, of course, there was the engine.

The Charger debuted in 1966, available with Dodge’s 426-cubic-inch, 425-hp Gen II Hemi V-8. Chrysler engines with hemispherical (well, domed) cylinder heads had been around since 1951, and drag racers had been competing with the Gen I Hemi for years, but as of 1962 Dodge had new ambitions. It was tired of watching GM triumph in NASCAR, a series in which, as of 1962, none of the Big Three were competing, at least not officially. As of the 1964 Daytona 500, Chrysler decided, it would no longer be a bystander in NASCAR, or for that matter, in drag racing. To participate in the stock car series, it needed to build a production car with a version of its racing engine. Thus was born the “Street Hemi.”

Today, the original Hemi Charger is generally overshadowed by its second-generation successor, a sleeker design that spawned the legendary and record-setting Daytona. However, values for the first 426-powered Charger are actually appreciating faster than those for its younger sibling, and they are at a more accessible price point. It may be a car for the die-hards, but that combination of comfort and power makes the ’66 Hemi Charger surprisingly charming to a first-timer.

Dodge built the Hemi Charger by a process of addition, rather than subtraction, and so the top dog of the line has all the virtues of the more workaday models. As a B-body with a fastback rear, the 1966 Charger was large enough and comfortable enough to be a family car—and a premium one at that. It boasted luxuries rarely found (if at all) in other intermediate cars, like a full-length console, two rear bucket seats, and glow-in-the-dark gauges. It was spacious, too: you could fit skies, or a surfboard, in the back hatch, and even those above six feet tall could sit comfortably in the rear seats.

The Charger might have borrowed a platform from the Coronet, but the two cars are easy to distinguish. That fastback roof design is a clear differentiator for the Charger, as is the execution of the front and rear lighting. The headlights are hidden behind the full-width front grille. When inactive, the lenses face the engine. When active, they rotate 180 degrees to point in front of the car. Framed by two chrome bezels, the lenses of the six taillights stretch the full width of the rear and are emblazoned with the model name: C H A R G E R. The door panels are molded, an industry-first. The back glass is unusual: It is not concave, or bubbled, from side to side; instead, it is convex, sitting lower than the C-pillars. 

That glass, says Ron Crites, owner of our feature car, proved a problem at high speeds. “At 150 mph, if you would open up a vent window or crack the window, you would blow out the back window.” He opened the trunk and pointed to several wide, rubber flaps. “These vents relieve cabin pressure to protect the glass.”

Inside, a prominent set of four round gauges distinguishes the Charger from the Coronet. Those gauges have a party trick: They’re electroluminescent, run off of 240 volts, and emit a blue-green glow in low light. The dash is spare and horizontal, the steering wheel slim and grooved on the back side with places for your fingers, as typical of the era. The console, which stretches back from the dashboard and runs between the front and rear seats, incorporates padded armrests for both rows. The Charger only had a “full-length” console in 1966; Dodge dropped the option for 1967.

Another change from the first to the second year of the Charger was the addition of locking front seats: If you’re in the rear of a ‘66 Charger, you only have to push the back of the front seat and it hinges forward. Even a six-foot-two person could sit in the rear comfortably. There’s also a hinged panel behind the rear seats. Lower it, and the fastback roofline accommodates 30 square feet of cargo space. 

Despite all those interesting details, the engine is what makes this car. For muscle-car aficionados with deep pockets and a thirst for power and/or rarity, the Street Hemi is the engine to have. Those on a budget have plenty of options: for 1966, Dodge also offered a 318, a 361, and a 383; for the following year, the 318, two 383s, and a 440. None is more powerful or valuable than the Hemi: A car in #2 condition with the Hemi is worth 2.7 times a car in equivalent condition with any of the other engines offered across the two-year production range (318–440).

Topped with two four-barrel AFB carburetors, the Street Hemi wears valve covers painted in Black Crackle and exhales through cast-iron headers. The wiring harness for the engine has a quick-disconnect plug, because if a racer ever blew an engine, their team would need to yank out the old one and drop in a new one as quickly as possible. The V-8 makes 425 hp at 5000 rpm and 490 ft-lb of torque at 4000. The engine actually twists the chassis under hard acceleration: As Crites delights to point out, Dodge had to add two extra leaves onto the right rear suspension (for a total of seven) to counterbalance the twist.

Dodge offered three transmissions with the Hemi for ‘66: a three- or a four-speed manual and a heavy-duty three-speed automatic (A727). The shifter has three detents: 1, 2, and D. “If you want to shift it manually, like if you’re drag racing,” said Crites, “you would start out in one and then when you got going as fast as you want, you bump it into two and then when you’re going 90 mph or something, then you shove it into D, for drive.” The shift points are as high as 5500 rpm. The four-speed carries a 15 percent premium in the Hagerty Price Guide, the three-speed manual a 10 percent deduction. Air conditioning, as you might guess, is another coveted option; it adds 10 percent to the value of the car.

At idle, the Hemi shakes the car. Its grumbly bass permeates the cabin of the Charger, and the back of the passenger’s seat wiggles. The black seats are softly sprung and rise only to the middle of your shoulder blades. Even with the automatic, the engine and transmission want a toe’s worth of throttle to engage D, which you do by grasping a round knob atop a delicate stalk that rachets back through the detents with very mechanical clicks and clacks. The weight of the non-assisted steering (a pump would bleed horsepower, after all) contrasts curiously with the skinny rim of the steering wheel. It’s easy to adjust to the lack of power steering, and even the brakes (drums all around, no power assistance). The slowness of the steering rack and the imposing size of the car take a little longer for a first-timer. 

While cruising down a two-line road between corn and soybean fields, it’s easy to imagine this car as a family vehicle you’d take on road trips. Beyond the lack of noise insulation you’d expect from a vintage car, and the slack in the steering—due in large part to the radial tires, says Crites—driving it is a very comfortable experience. At one point in my stint behind the wheel, we encountered a railroad crossing. I braced for impact, and was surprised when the Charger loafed over the tracks with minimal drama. You can tell it’s of a different era, with a flexible body compared to today’s cars, but the rear leaf springs, despite being stiffer than the ones on less powerful Chargers, are quite capable. With a well modulated jounce, we were across, then over the tracks.

Lean into the throttle, and the car surges forward with a roar and a hiss of induction. If you’re more familiar with modern cars, it’s the kind of torque you’d associate with a turbocharged engine at peak boost. Crites, who was driving the car at the moment, backed off the throttle quickly, but the car felt like it settled back into a 40-mph lope with a smirk. “That’s just the first carburetor,” Crites said. He leaned back in the black-upholstered seat and put his elbow on the top of the door, the rim of the steering wheel held gently between two fingers.

Not only is the Hemi worth more than the other engines in the ‘66 Charger lineup, but cars equipped with the top-dog motor have recently appreciated faster. Since 2019, values for a Hemi Charger are up by 46 percent; the rest lag by five percentage points. In the past five years, first-gen Hemi cars have appreciated much more than their more famous siblings, the second generation of Chargers built between 1968 and 1970. The later cars have only appreciated two percent since 2019. As you’d expect, though, the later cars are worth more. The first-gen Hemi Charger carries a 31 percent discount compared to the second: The average #2 condition Hemi Charger from 1968 through 1970 is worth $177,800, and the equivalent first-gen car is worth $125,500, on average.

The rarity of the first-gen Hemi Chargers is a large part of their appeal. Dodge only made 468 total Chargers with the Street Hemi for 1966, and 218 of them with the TorqueFlite automatic. In period, these numbers underscored the need for a redesign; today, that low production count only makes them more desirable. To an established collector like Crites, the hunt for a coveted model, and the detective work to call previous owners and discover the story of that particular example, makes the prize sweeter.

But what really makes the Hemi Charger a collectible for the ages is the story behind it—of an automaker in fierce competition to engineer, then build the most competitive muscle car it could—and the line of descendants it established.