The all-electric Dodge Charger Daytona recently found itself at the center of an unexpected controversy—it's been recalled, not for a battery issue, or a drivetrain flaw, but because it's too quiet.
For longtime muscle car fans, the shift from gas-guzzling V8s to battery-powered drivetrains is already a bitter pill to swallow. The deep, guttural rumble of a traditional Charger engine isn’t just noise—it’s part of the soul of the car, stitched into the American street culture from New York alleys to Texas drag strips. That roaring soundtrack was as iconic as the car's silhouette.
Dodge understood that nostalgia wouldn’t die easily. That’s why they equipped the new Charger Daytona EV with what they call the Fratzonic Chambered Exhaust—a synthetic sound system that mimics the classic roar of a combustion engine through external speakers. It even comes with multiple sound profiles, giving drivers the illusion of V8 thunder at the push of a button. It might sound gimmicky to some, but to Charger purists, it’s a lifeline—a bridge between what was and what’s becoming.
But despite all that theatrical noise on demand, it turns out the car has another, more regulatory sound issue. According to the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration (NHTSA), some 2024–2025 Charger Daytona models have been found to produce no sound at all at low speeds—not even the legally required pedestrian alert noise. That’s not just ironic—it’s a violation of federal safety standards.
You see, as EVs grow in popularity, their near-silent operation has become a safety concern, especially in urban settings. Unlike gasoline vehicles, which naturally generate audible cues through their engines and exhaust systems, EVs often glide by unnoticed. For the visually impaired, the elderly, or even just the average distracted pedestrian with their head buried in a phone, this can be genuinely dangerous.
That’s why federal regulations mandate that all electric vehicles emit a minimum sound level when moving at lower speeds. It’s not about style—it’s about being heard. Unfortunately, some Charger Daytona units rolled out of the factory with the right hardware installed but without the software properly configured. In those cases, the cars simply don’t make the required sounds unless the synthetic Fratzonic system is manually activated—which defeats the purpose of the regulation.
Owners started noticing it in everyday situations. Mark Clayton, a Charger EV owner in Seattle, joked online that his wife had been startled more than once by his car pulling into the driveway without a sound. “She said it felt like a ghost was sneaking up on her,” he wrote.
Another EV enthusiast, Lisa McCarthy from Detroit, mentioned in a forum post that she had to physically call out to her daughter’s friends while picking her up from school. “They just didn’t hear the car arrive,” she wrote. “I thought it was just EV life… turns out the alert sound never worked.”
Thankfully, the fix is relatively simple. Stellantis, Dodge’s parent company, says a quick software update will restore the required pedestrian noise. The update takes about 2.2 hours, according to the technical bulletin, and dealers have been instructed to offer courtesy transportation or shuttle services to make the process as painless as possible. If your Charger’s system is working correctly, the inspection takes just a few minutes and you’re good to go—now with a bit more “presence” on the street.
Still, this odd recall highlights something deeper about where the automotive world is heading. As we transition into quieter, more efficient electric cars, we’re also learning to renegotiate how humans and machines communicate on the road. It used to be that you heard a car before you saw it. Now? You might need an LED flash, a chirp, or a carefully engineered hum to even notice it’s there.
The Charger Daytona’s sound issue also speaks to a cultural tension. On one hand, this car represents the evolution of American performance—high horsepower, instant torque, zero emissions. On the other, it carries the weight of decades of combustion-fueled emotion. For many owners, the Charger isn’t just about performance metrics; it’s about presence. And presence, historically, meant noise.
As more EVs hit the road, this probably won’t be the last time a carmaker is forced to find that fine line between too quiet and just loud enough. In a few years, maybe we’ll all be used to the low whoosh of EVs and won’t think twice. But for now, this moment—when a muscle car was recalled for being a stealth ninja—captures perfectly the awkward but fascinating transition we’re living through.