When you first hit the car, you don't feel it at all. The hood caving in, the engine falling through its mounts, the front suspension exploding, it's all happening somewhere beneath you with the same presence of force as standing atop Rockefeller Center and watching a guy fall over at the ice skating rink. Then, the Chieftain's nose rose like the log flume at Splash Mountain, and the popping and cracking sounds under the treads resembled a bag of Orville Redenbacher tossed disdainfully into a campfire—crack-piiiing-fwoosh, punctuated by the occasional bang! of, at this point, the entire firewall crumbling into a burrito of faded gray petrochemicals. If the crowd cheered, I couldn't hear it. Every stomp of the diamond-plated throttle produced an addictive truck roar and a plume of white smoke, blanketing a trail behind me like a German smokescreen.
Needless to say, it's all very satisfying.
Autoweek Magazine — Drive A Tank Provides Mud-Slinging, Car-Crushing Adventure for the Masses