Growing up in the 1980s, true petrolheads could be divided into three distinct categories. There were the Ferrari fanboys for whom the F40 was – and still is – held with utter reverence; the first production car to ever go beyond 200mph, and as such the first supercar full stop.

Then there were the Porsche 959 pinheads, bowing to the boffins who created the most technologically advanced road-going sports car yet – four-wheel drive for the four-eyes.

And then you had the Lamborghini lunatics. They didn’t really care about top speed or lap times; turbo chargers or total displacements. They had the Countach. They loved the jagged lines; heralded the whale tale; and revered the scissor doors as gifts from the gods.

The madness of Lamborghini then continued happily into the Diablo era – with a name as evil as the car.

Yet Lambos of late have become – at least within their rarefied air – a bit sensible. Take the Huracan… it has all-wheel drive; it has four-wheel steering and torque vectoring; it has doors that open normally.

It's fun, it's fast, it doesn't abide by lockdowns

It’s even really easy to drive. It’s a sheep in wolf’s clothing.

At least it was, until now: because there is nothing timid about the new Lamborghini Huracan Evo RWD – especially in its latest Spyder form.

If there was ever a car that was the very antithesis of 2020, it's this car. It's fun, it's fast, it doesn't abide by lockdowns, and it's just the antidote you need – if you can handle it.

With the original Huracán and then Huracán Evo, it was about the driver asking questions of the car – throw any corner at it, and it will sort it out for you.

But with the RWD the roles are reversed. You’re in the driving seat – literally and figuratively – and you better be paying attention.

As with every Lamborghini there are three driving modes.

Strada – for if you're dead inside. Sport – for if you like to live (albeit closer to the edge than normal). And Corsa – for if you have a death wish.

I simplify, but you get the point.

Strada is useful if, for some inconceivable reason, you’ve had enough of the decet of titanium cylinders housed in its epic 5.2-litre engine, and would prefer they were toned down from a symphony to a mere hum.

It does soften the ride to be fair, and makes you less ‘look at me’ when you’re tootling around town. But if you’re interested in buying a Lamborghini, I’m guessing anonymity is not top of your priority list.

Corsa (‘Race’) is for those with balls of steel and the skills of Stroll.

If you’re interested in buying a Lamborghini, I’m guessing anonymity is not top of your priority list

So, Sport it is, then. And sport it delivers.

The Evo RWD is so much fun to drive; it’s like going to the park with a lively puppy – it’s over excited, happy to be with you, happy to be alive. And it rubs off.

You can’t help but grin, as the 602bhp V10 takes you for a walk, rather than the other way around.

When you change down gear, it makes this teasing snarl – and propels the car a little bit forward. These blips are like a playful taunt… ‘Are you really slowing down for that corner? You wimp!’

And the car’s probably right; it’s so precise and so poised that you probably don’t need to brake as hard as you think.

Of course, as it’s RWD, you do need to be careful about how fast you speed up again. It’s about feathering the throttle, rather than putting your boot down and seeing if the driver aids keep up with you.

Get it right, and you can still hit 60mph in 3.5 seconds (you’ll get 3.3 in the RWD Coupé and 2.9 seconds out of the four-wheel drive). But with the roof down and the revs up, it feels like you’re breaking the sound barrier.

Lamborghini Huracan Evo RWD Spyder
Lamborghini Huracan Evo RWD Spyder

If you do take a minute just to sit back and look around you, the updated interior is a lovely place to be – albeit in a JJ Abrams sci-fi thriller kind of way.

The interior does have an alien spaceship feel to it – and the new 8.4-inch touchscreen which includes gesture control, means the tech now keeps up with the aesthetics.

When it comes to the seats, you can go for carbon buckets, or plump for the new leather ‘comfort’ option. These are seriously classy affairs: they’re rich and sensuous, with a depth of patina only matched by a pair of Berlutis. Relative to the carbon alternatives, they offer less back ache, and more bum coddling.

There are a few minor irritations that I’d feel remiss not to mention – in the interests of consumer advice. There is no volume control on the steering wheel, which means you have to delve into the low-slung flatscreen, seek it out and turn it down.

Instead, in its place, you will find an indicator button. Relative to the stalk, this is a strange device to use – requiring a reprogramming of learnt behaviour. Trying to indicate right onto a roundabout then left off it, using only your left thumb to press a button from right to left, while your left hand is first turning the wheel clockwise and is therefore actually on your right hand side, while your right hand is therefore on your left hand side is… as confusing as that sentence was to read.

They say you can’t reinvent the wheel. Well it turns out, you can’t reinvent the steering wheel, either.

And the other criticism… it’s too small. At least, it is for me. I’m six foot two with shoes on. And, well, I don’t fit. They don’t make the Huracan in my size.

There is something about Lamborghinis that stirs the soul – even of those not driving it

For short journeys it wasn’t an issue; but after an hour or so, my legs were beginning to cramp.

I explained the issue to a Lamborghini representative, and they helpfully pointed out that the Aventador was considerably roomier. Good to know.

But driving around in the early autumn sun, I’d happily take the odd pang and gripe in return for the overall experience.

There is something about Lamborghinis that stirs the soul – even of those not driving it.

In just one afternoon’s drive, I had one trucker honk his horn; two delivery drivers encourage me to rev the engine; a horde of school boys cheer as if I’d won the British Grand Prix; and more pedestrians then I’d care to count stop mid conversation and gawp as I drove by.

Driving a Lamborghini doesn't half make you feel special. It's life affirming – exactly the tonic we need for these times.

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