The Lamborghini Huracán LP 610-4 is the only Lamborghini I’ve ever almost loved. It’s scrappy, fast as hell, loaded with driving character, amply endowed with raw power (my, what big hands you have...), and, crucially, stripped of the cheese that hangs off a lot of Lambos. As a replacement for the tired Gallardo, Lamborghini’s all-time best-selling platform, the Huracán is a brand savior: a ripsnorting driver’s car instead of a peacocky showpiece. The new LP 610-4 Spyder is the topless Huracán, a convertible seemingly tailor-made for Miami, Florida, which happens to be Lamborghini’s top market in the United States. Aside from the convertible roof, the Spyder shares the same 5.2-Liter V-10, the same magnetically-controlled suspension, and the same large-pizza-pie-with-sausage-and-peppers 20-inch aluminum wheels. It shoots from a standstill to 60 mph in 3.4 seconds, which is two-tenths slower than the coupe.

Herein, the some important, salient points that you might consider pertinent when thinking about the Lamborghini Huracán Spyder. 1. It's still really expensive. It’s also a touch pricier, at $262,350. Is that pricey? It sure is. Really goddamn pricey, actually—just like a Lamborghini should be. You want a bargain, Mario? Are you pinching pennies, Tony? Buy a Maserati. Or even better, an Alfa Romeo 4C Spyder, which will whip you around noisily and muss your hair for less than $60,000. Like a gambling addict betting the rent, owning Lamborghini only feels nice if it hurts just a little to buy . At least, that's what I like to imagine. 2. It drives pretty well in an actual hurricane.

At the very least, a really, really windy rainstorm. The folks at Lamborghini were kind enough to fly a bunch of fat-assed, slack-jawed auto journalists to South Beach, Miami, south of Trump country, to let us play with the Spyder in its natural habitat of over-sculpted bodies and male perfume. Unfortunately, when we arrived the sky opened up and disgorged upon us many days of heavy rain. It made for not-so-fun with the top down, though The Drive's Chief Auto Critic, Lawrence Ulrich, and I took the opportunity to play with the rolling top deployment. According to erstwhile Lamborghini boss Stephan Winklemann, a pilot can lower the roof while traveling the posted speed limit on Ocean Drive (that's 30 mph, FYI). The sun peeked out of the purple clouds as we made our way out to Key Biscayne to grab a cup of retirement-community coffee, and I slowed before the William Powell Bridge to open the top while Ulrich manned the stopwatch. From closed to open in a blazing 10.5 seconds. As I crested the bridge and saw Virginia Key in the distance, the rain came down. I sped up to keep it off us, and it worked as long as we went faster than 40 mph. The speed limit on Virginia Key: 25. 3. It knows its audience—intimately.