2027 Ram 1500 TRX SRT First-Drive Review: Prehistoric Power in a Modern Off-Road Monster

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Ram didn’t invent the fast off-road pickup. In fact, when it was discontinued in 2024, the TRX wasn’t even the most powerful V8 truck on the road. That honor went to Ford, which arguably has a better claim to starting this whole movement. Well, the 2027 Ram 1500 TRX SRT is here to right those wrongs, and a few more besides.

Yep, the TRX is officially an SRT model now—though it always has been in spirit. The revived off-roader not only benefits from all of the updates the rest of the Ram 1500 lineup received during its mid-cycle overhaul, but it also gets an updated version of the 6.2-liter supercharged Hellcat V8. Ram increased fuel pressure and improved airflow, so it now has enough of both core combustion ingredients to boost output from 702 to 777 horsepower. That figure was further improved by fitting the engine with the old Hellcat Redeye valvetrain, which allows it to rev all the way to 6,500 rpm.

With that change, the TRX now makes more power and torque than the Raptor R with 680 lb-ft of twist. And of course, you get a fully loaded Ram 1500 with a BorgWarner 48-13 transfer case providing full-time four-wheel drive. Out back, there’s a Dana 60 with full-float shafts and an electronic locking differential. No limited-slip nonsense here.

You’ll still find 35-inch Goodyear Wrangler tires at all four corners, and a set of adaptive Bilstein Black Hawk e2 shocks ported over from the Hurricane-powered Ram RHO. With credentials like this, the TRX is the sort of antisocial jock-rocket that’s best exploited in the middle of nowhere, far from judging eyes and sensitive ears.

With that in mind, let me tell you about Buchanan, Michigan. It’s a nice little pocket of civilization nestled in the greener folds of the state’s southwest corner. It’s an old factory town—the former home of a Clark Equipment plant—whose industry (and population) have been in gentle decline since its peak in the early 1980s. It’s a charming collection of largely well-kept, middle-class homes from the early 20th century, enclosed on all sides by swaths of agriculture and nearly empty brown fields.

Just north of town along the St. Joseph River, you’ll find a little chunk of real estate known as RedBud MX. If you’re a motocross fan, you’re probably already familiar with the venue. It’s the home of LaRocco’s Leap—a three-jump obstacle named for Mike “The Rock” LaRocco’s video-game-caliber move that cleared all three on a 125cc dirt bike.

Fortunately for us and “downtown” Buchanan, RedBud is where we spent the bulk of our day, tearing up a hillside course that was carved out just to give the TRX room to play. No, we didn’t actually get to drive the TRX on the motocross course itself; our setup was much larger and free of troublesome obstacles like walls and grandstands. It was also free of the two-foot-deep layer of loose soil that RedBud is famous for.

That said, our setup was fairly straightforward: six or seven turns, depending on how you count ’em, interspersed with as much straightaway as possible, plus a handful of obstacles with some verticality. Yep, that’s my fancy way of saying “jumps.”

Two of them were more like bumps, to be fair. One was a set of whoop-de-doos that commanded straight-ahead steering more than any sort of throttle discipline. The other was a small bump at the beginning of the back straightaway. With any real throttle, it became essentially nonexistent.

That leaves only two. One was technically just a set of whoops big enough to do real damage. The course designer told us that the final layout emerged after no small amount of trial-and-error, perhaps resulting in some of the test trucks’ bumpers being replaced while the grades and their corresponding target speeds were set. This was almost certainly the spot that caused the most headaches.

The sweet spot for this one, as it turns out, is 45 mph. Under, and you risked slamming the front axle (or worse) down on the second hump; over, and you risked going full lawn-dart on the far side. Oh, and whatever you do, don’t hit that thing with the truck still rotating. Neither of those outcomes improves if you manage to initiate them sideways. No pressure.

And then there was, shall we say, the main event.

This job has granted me many opportunities to experience a true four-wheel liftoff. Most of the time, they are elaborately orchestrated photo opportunities with razor-thin tolerances for anything extemporaneous.

But with Ram? Nah, **** that noise.

Situated in the middle of the front “straight,” the only thing keeping our speeds in check here was the course design itself. The front straight emerges from a well-banked but downhill left-hander (tighter than 90° but not by much). It’s nice and wide, allowing plenty of room to set up for the uphill charge to the top—and charge is precisely what Ram wanted us to do.

That final corner is all about one thing: Getting the nose pointed straight as quickly as possible. Throwing the throttle at a 6,500-pound truck approaching full steering lock is an excellent way to make a whole lot of noise and not a lot of progress. Going up the hill ass-out may look insanely cool, but it’ll come at the expense of hang time.

There’s something about blasting uphill, looking over that hood at nothing but dust and patches of sky, and just having faith that the dude with the walkie-talkie, standing 50 yards away from your future crash-landing site, did all his calculations correctly (Warning: Language). This is probably how astronauts feel, right? Totally valid comparison.

And maybe it’s just because I’m of a certain age, but every time I feel that distinct sensation of the suspension dropping out beneath me, time slows and the horn section roars. This is better than any roller coaster.

Turns out that dude with the radio didn’t screw up the math one bit. (His name is Tom, by the way, and he’s a bit of a magician.) The built-up landing pad comes up to greet the massive all-terrains as they touch down. From there, you have just enough room to gather up the truck again before a quick right-left leading into the baby whoop-de-doos.

Having that hillside playground to ourselves proved invaluable because it truly highlighted what the TRX is good at: being an absolute menace.

Outside the gates of RedBud, the tight, single-family neighborhoods that built up around Buchanan’s old commercial corridor made the TRX feel enormous. Any conspicuous behavior could easily draw the ire of a small but likely very bored police department. The open roads farther out of town were more inviting, but since many of them were just as old as the surface streets in Buchanan, they were equally narrow and in dire need of repair.

The tight lanes felt constricting, but the TRX shrugged off the battered surface with aplomb. Ram reminded us over and over again during the program that luxury is a key component of the TRX formula, and the truck’s suspension coddles admirably when called upon. In fact, despite the big rig’s performance-forward attitude, I’d argue that it makes a case for itself as more of a “touring” machine than a sporting one—think Biloxi Bentley, not Vicksburg Viper.

I know, I’m probably losing some of you, but hear me out. The TRX is pretty darn quick in a straight line, but everything else you do in this truck—stopping, turning, turning, turning, turning—takes an eternity. The tall cab and high seating position also mute any sensation of speed or connection to the road. Sure, its long and wide footprint provides excellent stability, but in physics, as in philosophy, stability is the enemy of changing direction. Consequently, that’s simply not something the TRX excels at—unless, of course, you’re talking about doing filthy-huge donuts.

Right about now, my favorite Ram PR guy is sending one of his interns to pick out a 2×4 in my size, so allow me to get to the point: This is all by design. TRX doesn’t need to be a hunkered-down street bruiser. That’s Rumble Bee’s niche to fill—lighter, lower, shorter (though just as wide), more stiffly sprung and riding on street-performance tires, not all-terrains.

And trust me, you won’t want to try those whoop-de-doos in the Hellcat-powered Rumble Bee. You’ll lose more than your front bumper, and you might want to check your dental policy exclusions before attempting to prove me wrong.

Confession time: I shed no tears when the Hemi “died.” I was still crying out from losing my beloved V10. But full stop, this is the most fun you can have in a full-size pickup truck. “TRX” was never going to adorn another Ram without a Hemi under the hood. Selfishly, I wish it were part of a new generation of lighter, more compact Hemis designed to be shared with something that more closely resembles a sports car, but alas, Stellantis just wrote off the equivalent of Mongolia’s GDP in EV investments. I doubt a billion-dollar V8 redesign is in the cards right now.

So, here it is, in all its Redeye-augmented glory. It’s big, it’s dumb, and yeah, that thing’s got a Hemi. Love it or hate it, the TRX was designed to make you feel something. Ponder that the next time you really peruse the current crop of EVs.

Ram provided The Drive with accommodations along with the use of a vehicle for the purpose of writing this review.

2027 Ram 1500 TRX SRT Specs

Quick Take

Love it or hate it, the TRX is back in all of its V8 glory as a dual-purpose bruiser and cruiser.