Though the Lamborghini Gallardo Spyder is low-slung, climbing into it didn’t feel like a gymnastic routine. Of course, most of the time headroom was infinite. But even with the roof up, we were able to get in and out while retaining a modicum of gracefulness. Once underway, we discovered that while there are lots of scary-fast exotic cars out there, not many are as comfortable to drive as the Gallardo Spyder at sedate speeds – as long as you’re not logging hour after hour on the interstate.

Another reason we didn’t mind driving the back roads of Key Largo at Snowbird-slow speeds is that the Lamborghini didn’t seem to mind either. It didn’t buck and pitch forward in low gears like a horse impatient with its bridle, eager to gallop. We were, however, a bit disconcerted by the brakes at first. It takes more foot pressure than we expected to get into the meat of the system, but once those 24 calipers grabbed those cross-drilled mamas it was like being in the vice grips of gravity. And we weren’t pounded to scaloppini by the ride. Though it’s solid as granite and strict as a drill sergeant on the track, the car’s front and rear double wishbone suspension is as indulgent and cuddling as your favorite aunt when you’re merely cruising around.

The 2006 Gallardo Spyder always sounds like a race car, though. Responding to owner pleading, Lamborghini gave the 2006 Coupé and Spyder an enhanced engine note. It’s fierce. We gunned the motor while passing through a tunnel into Homestead Miami Speedway and our ears rang for an hour afterward. When there were a dozen of these wonderful convertibles doing laps on the track at full song it sounded like race time at an F1 event.

Our track experience can only be described as exhilarating. We never shut off the ESP partly because we were warned not to and also because we felt no need to increase the car’s thrill factor. The Lamborghini Gallardo Spyder spins such a fine line between teetering on the edge of control and confidence-inspiring stability that we had our hands full keeping up with our emotions as we piloted it around the track. It made our eyes water as we roared down the straightaways with the massive V10 screaming at our backs. The howl of the engine as E-gear downshifted into a corner and we took advantage of the Gallardo’s slight tendency toward understeer to dive into the apex and glide the car around the turn before blasting out the back side was the same feeling of masterly domination you get when you hit your Ping G2 perfectly and the ball soars 280 yards down the fairway – except that happens once in a blue moon and the Gallardo delivers perfection in every turn.

At times we were moving so fast that our clothes whipped like flags on the mast of speed boat. We ducked as cars in front threw up little balls of spent tire rubber when we roared up behind. And, all the while, the Florida sun filled the cabin with pure white sunlight. Back in the pits, with the Lamborghini pinging and whirring as its machinery panted for breath, we hopped from one foot to the other, waiting, just waiting, until we could go round again. We couldn’t get enough.