I thought it was broken. I mean, I knew they were meant to be aggressive, but this violent? SNAP, went another, as my right fingers twitched, orchestrating a twelve-cylinder symphony that resonated more powerfully than one of Pink Floyd’s lead guitar solos. The vertebrae in my neck tingled, and the sun rising over the mountains impaired my vision to the point where I would go blind if I didn’t turn back. Powering next to cliff faces, nestled within a carbon-fiber cocoon, I continued. I wasn’t going to turn back. Not ever. I felt like Keith Moon circa 1968—on top of the world, and yet perilously close to the edge.
That’s what driving a Lamborghini does to you … Video and more