The whine of the engine just inches behind my head belies the apprehension I feel as I ease the Gallardo out of the parking lot and down the street towards highway 71, visible just a quarter mile away.
“Jesus I’ll have to merge this beast into traffic? What if I fuck up, lose control and slam into a concrete embankment? Or even worse a mini van full of screaming kids?”
The whine increases and I tap on the shift lever that rests comfortably under my right hand, which is resting on the wheel of a blue 2006 Lamborghini Gallardo, hurtling down the road… at about 30 MPH.
Earlier in the year my girlfriend noticed a groupon for a one-hour drive at Lone Star Exotics. Normally $250 now only $99. I Oohed and Aaahed over the cars, especially the Lambo and then promptly forgot about it. She did not. She bought the groupon and scheduled a ride in the Lambo for a week after my birthday. Needless to say that when my birthday arrived I was surprised and overjoyed: Best. Birthday. Gift. Ever.
So I turn right onto Ben White and take the opportunity to goose it a bit. Holy shit! I’ve never felt anything like it. In the blink of an eye and just a couple of jabs at the flappy paddle gearbox the speed limit is waving goodbye, I realize that I am in traffic and the instructor gently suggests I merge to the left and get up on to 71.
I have never approached an on-ramp with such little trepidation before. It is unlikely I will run into anything that I can’t get in front of easily. Not those idiots in the big pickups or the kids in their ricers. I realize in that instant that I am (for at most an hour) the real king of the road.
So I hit the left flappy paddle to downshift and with a brief blip of the throttle the transmission jumps down a gear and that heavenly noise just inches from my ears starts to scream at me.
“Use me, c’mon, DO IT! press that pedal and give me an Italian tune-up!
So I do. Just long enough to get into traffic, mind you… ahem.
When you first arrive at Lone Star Exotics you have to sign some paperwork that is very specific about what you can and can’t do in the car. Things like burn outs and two or four wheel power slides and generally behaving like a jackass are all spelled out in great detail along with the fines for each. And as I am behind the wheel of one hundred and twenty five thousand dollars worth of car I am acutely aware of not doing anything that is incredibly stupid. Like this moron.
So I am cruising along 71 headed East and starting to relax a little. And contrary to what those idiots on Top Gear say, the “flappy paddle gearbox” is very nice. And the car is generally pretty easy to drive. So I start to relax and enjoy my ride.
Along with your one hour drive Lone Star Exotics has a couple of additional price options. A video of your drive and the opportunity to take the car onto a lesser used stretch of highway. I didn’t get the video as I knew the the whole drive would be playing in my head for years to come but I did pay the extra $75 for the highway option.
And as this stretch of road is fairly light on traffic, even at 2:30 on a sunny Saturday afternoon I am encouraged to enjoy myself. And the only problem with this car (if it can even be called a problem) is that it doesn’t feel as if you are going that fast. Only the light posts that now look like a picket fence and the center line that looks like a solid white line are your clues. Oh and the speedometer, yeah that.
All too soon I am instructed to take the next turn-around. As the entrance back onto the highway from the U-turn is completely deserted I am encouraged to see what she can do and wind it up to about 7K RPM before shifting.
Have I said “holy shit” recently?
This beast has, seemingly, endless supplies of power. You press the gas pedal, wind it out to seven thousand and hit the paddle. And it happens all over again. And on this occasion I didn’t even get it out of third.
Please excuse the interruption again but, holy shit!
Shortly thereafter (damn!) we exit 130 and cruise around some local roads and I am again reminded how well behaved this beast is. Sure you have well over 500 BHP in the form of a highly strung Italian V10 sitting inches behind you that sounds like, I have no doubt, angels are having a party and you’re invited. But it is well mannered and actually easy to drive.
I am six-two and while I do fit in this car, I barely fit in this car. The seats are hard but comfortable. The air conditioning works great and the interior (finished in blue and tan leather) is understated at best. Probably the only thing about this car that is understated. I can, however, see how this would not be a comfortable car for me to drive for any length of time. I mean it is really tiny. It looks big in pictures but that is a result of the agressive styling. Stand next to it and you get the idea that one of the reasons it is so fast and so… willing is that it is such a small car.
All too soon we are back on Ben White and making the U-turn to go back to the barn. All the while my head is swimming with the sensation, the sheer emotional experience of driving a car that people turn and gawk at where ever it goes. It quite literally defies description.
Sure we can all get into discussions about the Bugatti Veyron vs. the Ferrari GT40 versus the AMG C63, vs. the Lamborghini Aventador after a particularly raucous episode of Top Gear. But when you get right down to it this particular shiny blue 2006 Lamborghini Gallardo on this particular Saturday afternoon in May was, without a doubt, the best fucking car in the world.
And trust me, if you decide to do this (as any self respecting car geek should) getting in your car and driving away is going to be one of the most frustrating things you have ever done.