2006 Lamborghini Gallardo Spyder

Tweet

A Lamborghini is one of the many objects that most mortals such as myself can only dream of ever owning. Costing as much as an average man’s house, it is an exclamation point on the exorbitant lifestyles known only to the rich and famous; a pure flexing of one’s disposable income. The name alone conjures up fleeting thoughts of success and passion; the sight of one is enough to make the average person short of breath. So when I was contacted about shooting (and driving) a 2006 Lamborghini Gallardo Spyder, I had to take a moment for my heart to catch up. That night, having thoroughly terrified myself with reading stories about the unpredictability of the Countach and the unforgiving nature of the Diablo, I was extremely apprehensive about what was to come.

Showing up to pick up the Lamborghini the next morning was a nerve wracking experience. This car triggers a visceral reaction in your body that other cars in its class cannot come close to matching. In my very limited experience with cars of this nature, I had never yet actually been afraid of a car…until now. Even parked, it looks like some sort of evil surgical instrument, full of acute angles and razor sharp creases. It sits low and wide, nearly seven and a half feet from mirror to mirror, with the windshield raked to an angle better suited for a reentry vehicle. Bathed in a deep pearlescent coat of paint, the color shifts tones in the sunlight, from a light yellow hue with flecks of turquoise to a deeply saturated yellow-orange. When compared visually, the mighty Ferrari F430 looks a bit too proper, too safe, too dull. Sacrilege? Maybe.

Sitting in the Lamborghini requires an awkward dance: open the door, swivel your hips to the left, bend your knees and fall backward (watch your head!) into the driver’s bucket. With your rear planted firmly 3 inches above the pavement, you can take the time to look around the cockpit. The interior, furnished by Audi, is exactly what you would expect from the automaker known best for top quality materials. The doors close with a satisfying “thud” and everything has a substantial feel to it. The centrally located rocker switches for the lights, windows and hazards are a nice touch that adds to the feel of being in the cockpit of a fighter jet. The doors panels and center console, all swathed in glossy carbon fiber, remind you of the intent of this beast. The traditional aluminum open gated shifter stands out inside the dark modern cabin, a nod to the great Lamborghinis of yore. I was very happy to see this model equipped with a proper transmission as I have found it a shame that so many recent supercars are losing sight of the pure driving experience. I came to find while driving that it requires a bit more precision and care compared to other shifters I was accustomed to, but the satisfying “click-click” of gear changes and the beauty of the shifter itself are well worth the sacrifice.

I was beginning to feel more comfortable about the idea of driving this beast until I inserted the switchblade style key into the ignition and gave it a good turn. The hand-built 5 liter v-10 exploded to life, clearing its throat with a gruff cough before settling into a impatient idle. I fastened my seat belt (very tightly) and slowly eased out of the driveway, assisted by the hydraulic suspension that lifted the nose up 1.5 inches to avoid what seem to be inevitable scrapes.

I quickly lowered the cloth top in order to gain any real kind of a rear view of traffic. The top took roughly 20 seconds to disappear into a small cubby placed on top of the engine, exposed when the entire rear cover lifts up and slides rearward. With the top down, you are rewarded by the unfiltered sound of Sant’ Agata Bolognese’s finest v10 just inches behind your head.

After tooling around a bit and becoming more acquainted with the heavy clutch and deliberate gear changes, I held my breath and matted the accelerator in first gear. All 520 horses and 376 lb-ft of torque immediately and furiously boiled over. The engine, rising from a baritone growl below 3,000 RPM, changed character and emitted a hoarse metallic scream as I rushed for second gear faster than I ever thought possible. Once in second, the constant linear power continued on seemingly forever until out of self preservation I shut it down at highly illegal speeds. It was in that moment that you realize what this car is all about.

On the freeway, the Lamborghini was well behaved, offering up plenty of passing power in 6th gear with very little drama. The engine begs to be let off the hook however, and I appeased it quite a few times on my trip. On the cratered streets of Houston, it shook, shuddered and creaked along, probably cursing its driver for allowing its tires to touch such broken, shoddily paved surfaces. Gawking stares became a regular occurrence, most probably looking to see who the 20-something celebrity driving the sun-yellow Lamborghini was. If you saw me driving that day, I am sorry to have to disappoint you, it was just me.

People buy Lamborghinis because of the one of a kind driving experience that they can offer. The offer is unabashedly straightforward a car that will sacrifice any necessary niceties to dig deeply into the soul of the driver. The engine sounds more like a wild animal than anything man made; the ride and handling is twitchy and nervous at everyday speeds. It’s not very comfortable, it’s hot and it’s totally impractical. And I love it. All of its faults are quickly dissolved during a drive down a wooded road at dusk with no sound other than the engine churning behind you. It’s an amazing feeling from going from an everyday driver to a Lamborghini – it commands the respect, concentration and total connection of its driver. By the time I parked it I was drenched in sweat and exhausted, either from the heat or from stress of driving a house in every day traffic (probably the latter).