Electric vehicles have rewritten nearly every chapter of automotive evolution, from efficiency to performance, but not without some complications along the way. One of the more unexpected hiccups has now surfaced with the Dodge Charger EV. Its problem? It’s just too quiet. In a twist that feels almost ironic for a car traditionally known for its aggressive growl and muscle-car persona, the Dodge Charger’s electric version is being recalled because it doesn’t make enough noise at low speeds to properly warn pedestrians of its presence.
For those unfamiliar with how this works, electric vehicles are often equipped with a pedestrian alert system that emits artificial sound when the car is moving slowly, especially under 20 miles per hour. The intention is simple: EVs are nearly silent without internal combustion engines, and this silence—while a luxury inside the cabin—can be a hazard on sidewalks and crosswalks. The Charger EV’s pedestrian alert sound apparently falls short of regulatory decibel levels, prompting this safety-related recall.
This isn’t just a technicality—it has real-life implications. A coworker once told me about a moment when she was nearly struck by a slow-moving EV while walking her dog in the early morning. She heard nothing. No hum, no rumble, just the dog pulling back as the vehicle crept silently through the neighborhood. Thankfully, she stepped aside just in time, but the moment left her shaken. Multiply that kind of experience across thousands of city blocks, and the importance of sound becomes painfully obvious.
The Dodge Charger EV’s recall is part of a broader conversation about how we adapt our infrastructure, and even our senses, to the new electric era. Automakers have spent decades engineering quieter, smoother vehicles, only to now face the challenge of making them artificially louder—but in a controlled, regulated, and hopefully pleasant way. With the Charger, Dodge had hoped to thread the needle by creating an electric muscle car that still felt like a Dodge. Their “Fratzonic Chambered Exhaust” system, designed to simulate the traditional roar, has drawn attention for its boldness. Yet here, the issue isn’t the dramatic high-speed soundtrack—it’s the subtle, low-speed alert that's missing its mark.
What’s strange is that many early adopters of the Charger EV praised it for the way it managed to capture Dodge’s character in an all-electric form. It didn’t just look muscular, it felt emotionally connected to its gas-powered roots. But no one buys a Charger thinking it’ll sneak up on someone. That’s never been part of its DNA. And that’s what makes this situation both odd and somewhat emblematic of the broader tension in the EV transition.
My neighbor, a proud owner of a first-gen Tesla Model S, once told me that the silence of his car was one of the main reasons he loved it. He felt like he could leave his house at 6 AM without waking his kids or the entire cul-de-sac. But now, he’s had to explain to his children to be extra cautious when crossing the street because not all cars make noise anymore. It’s a paradox—what we once considered a luxury has become a liability.
Dodge, of course, is moving quickly to address the issue. The recall affects a relatively small number of early production units, and the fix is reportedly a simple software update that adjusts the volume and tone of the pedestrian warning system. That said, the conversation this raises is far larger than one brand or one model. As cities become more populated and urban design continues to favor walkability, vehicles that are nearly silent can pose an invisible risk. Especially for people with visual impairments, or even those just distracted by their phones, the absence of auditory cues could lead to tragedy.
There’s also an emotional angle to all of this. The sound a car makes isn’t just a technicality—it’s part of its personality. For gearheads, the roar of a Dodge has always been a visceral thing, tied to identity and nostalgia. In the EV world, replicating that sensation is difficult but not impossible. The fact that Dodge attempted to engineer a sound system to evoke those feelings shows they’re trying to honor that tradition. But there’s still a difference between a performance growl and a practical safety beep, and getting both right requires finesse.
Walking through a shopping center parking lot last weekend, I found myself checking over my shoulder more often than usual. An EV coasted past me so quietly I didn’t realize it was there until it was just a few feet away. A little girl nearby, holding a balloon and skipping along, wandered slightly into the driving lane. Her mother quickly pulled her back, but you could tell it was a close call. These moments aren’t isolated—they’re a growing reality as silent vehicles multiply on our roads.
In daily life, most people probably don’t think about vehicle sounds unless they’re jarring. But the absence of noise creates a new kind of tension. Pedestrians rely on subtle auditory cues all the time, often subconsciously. The crunch of gravel, the low whir of an engine, the Doppler shift of a car approaching—these things guide how we move through space. When those cues are gone, hesitation replaces confidence, and every street corner becomes a guessing game.
Dodge’s recall is a reminder that as much as we celebrate technological leaps, we can’t lose sight of the basics. A car, no matter how advanced, still has to be safe. Not just for the driver, but for everyone it passes. Especially in an era of urban complexity and constant distraction, where earbuds and smartphones already dull our awareness, the responsibility on the vehicle grows.
It’s also an opportunity. Engineers now have a blank canvas to redefine what a vehicle should sound like. It doesn’t have to mimic combustion engines exactly, but it should communicate intent. A low, organic hum at walking speeds, maybe even modulated to suit the environment, could help bridge the gap between performance and safety. The ideal sound would alert without irritating, comfort without becoming white noise. That balance is difficult but crucial.
As more people begin to adopt electric vehicles—whether drawn by environmental concerns, government incentives, or rising fuel costs—these questions will only become more pressing. The Dodge Charger EV’s recall may be technical in nature, but its implications touch on psychology, urban design, and even philosophy. What does it mean for a car to be heard? And how much of that matters when we’re sharing the road with children, seniors, cyclists, and distracted walkers?
There’s no doubt Dodge will patch the problem. But maybe what we need more broadly is a cultural shift, a deeper awareness of how vehicles—silent or not—interact with our shared spaces. EVs might be the future, but safety, as always, needs to be part of the conversation from the ground up. And maybe, just maybe, there’s still room in that future for a little bit of roar.