I can't bring myself to call it a supercar.

I've spent the day at Las Vegas Motor Speedway watching, listening to, poring over, and even riding in the latest near-production prototypes of the all-new Ford GT, and I can't shake the feeling that it just doesn't deserve the supercar moniker.

A whole cadre of internet commenters has already come to this conclusion. They're chafed by the car's 3.5-liter twin-turbo V6 sharing dimensions with a pickup truck engine; they're incensed at the audacity of Ford, honest American Ford, doing the Ferrari thing, hand-selecting only the worthiest customers—and charging them a half-million dollars for the honor. "Lotta money for a V6," they sneer, usually with typos.

I'm happy to tell you they're dead wrong. It's not that Ford has failed to achieve supercar status. It's that the new GT is so purposeful, so exactingly and innovatively designed, that it reaches beyond the genre of European two-seat screamers built for maximum envy induction at felony speed.

Ford hasn't built a supercar. It's created a weapon.

Kevin McCauley

I won't get to slide behind the steering wheel of the nearly-production-ready GT idling in pit lane today. But I won't be far away. Piling into the passenger seat, I'm astonished at the narrowness of the cockpit. The center console is no wider than a smartphone; reaching for my seatbelt, I grind my left shoulder against my driver's right. It's almost romantic, reminding me of close-coupled vintage sports cars from the days before cupholders.

"That was very much intended," Raj Nair, Ford's executive vice president of product development and chief technical officer, tells me. "We saw how close together we could put the two passengers, then wrapped the cabin around them." Packaging efficiency drove the decision to use a twin-turbo V6 over the tradition-mandated V8, as well. The result is a teardrop-shaped cabin and engine compartment with minimal frontal area; the width subtracted from between the seats was apportioned to the keel-style chassis, which channels air coming into the nose of the car through large ducts running on either side of the passenger compartment, evacuating behind the engine. The result? Outrageous amounts of downforce.

Kevin McCauley

In the hot seat is Joey Hand, who, with co-drivers Sébastien Bourdais and Dirk Müller, helped pilot the Number 68 Ford GT LM GTE to GTE class victory at the 2016 24 Hours of Le Mans. He's busy adjusting the steering wheel and pedals, but not the seat: To simplify crash certification, the seat bottoms don't move, just like the LaFerrari. With the passengers' posteriors always in the same position, the design team could shape a lower, sleeker roofline that still meets necessary unbelted-occupant crash safety requirements. As a result, crucial controls, like the turn signals, wipers, high beams, and infotainment buttons, are located on the steering wheel, always within reach.

Kevin McCauley

Joey Hand, at the wheel, and the author, shoulder to shoulder. Kevin McCauley

Strapped in our cozy quarters, we head out onto Las Vegas Motor Speedway's Outside Road Course. It's a windy December morning; there's no rubber anywhere on the pavement, which is covered in a fine layer of sand deposited by overnight winds. Tires and tarmac alike are cold, and there's no timing equipment to be seen anywhere.

Even with all these caveats, the GT feels special from the very first turn. Hand has the car in Track mode, which lowers the ride height by 50mm and firms up the dampers and spring rate through a trick active suspension system. The aero equipment is tuned for maximum downforce, but given the low-grip surface and the irreplaceable prototype we're driving on it, Hand keeps a little traction control in the mix.

Kevin McCauley

Even under these circumstances, the car's strengths shine through. From the passenger seat, I can feel how the GT responds to Hand's minute throttle adjustments. "It tucks down really nicely in the front," he remarks mid-corner, demonstrating how the car tightens up its line with just a minute lift of the throttle. "Especially for a street car. There's a lot of street cars, man, when you come off the brakes, they just motorboat. Not this one," he says.

On the circuit's fast corners, Hand uses a little brush of the brakes on corner entry, settles the rear with a glimpse of throttle before the apex, then rockets away. I can feel the finesse, the way the car answers to the most delicate inputs, even as the tires scramble for grip.

Kevin McCauley

You're wondering about the engine noise. Fear not: The street-legal GT sounds excellent. Turbo whoosh is subtle, an undertone of boost beneath the engine note. The sound is somewhere between a silken straight-six and an exotic small-bore V8, a subdued but purposeful growl. Imagine a McLaren 570S with a higher redline and a little less rasp, and you'll be on the right track. It's worlds away from the woeful moan of the Le Mans racer.

Given the track conditions, it's hard to put the GT's performance in context. Ford's frustrating refusal to give out any hard specs doesn't help. Horsepower? "Over 600" is all Nair will tell me. Top speed? "Over 200," he offers. Price? The Ford exec is particularly cagy on this one—each GT will be built-to-order, so it's likely no two will have the exact same specs. Figure on $450,000 as a rough starting point, with half a million a distinct possibility.

So I can't tell you whether the GT will slay the Lamborghini Aventador, embarrass the McLaren 650S, or dismantle the Ferrari 488GTB. With the engine still undergoing emissions certification, the power output hasn't been finalized; the brakes, the seven-speed dual-clutch transmission, and the five drive modes are all still in final calibration.

That doesn't seem to matter: Ford has committed to building just 250 GTs a year for the next four years. Every example due in 2017 and 2018 has already been sold. For the buyers deemed worthy, a spec sheet full of shrugs isn't a major sticking point.

But I can tell you that Ford's done something special here. Most supercar makers have spent the past decade making their machines more well-rounded—roomier, better appointed, with a newfound focus on user-friendliness.

Nair promises the GT will be plenty user-friendly in its intended task. "This car is really good at ten-tenths," he says. "It doesn't surprise you, but it will test your courage. I like to call it an honest car."

Getting there will take some sacrifices. I fear for the big-boned buyer who tries to wedge into a GT for the first time. And you should see the trunk on this thing, if you can call the hollow behind the engine with the volume of a misshapen shoebox a "trunk" with a straight face.

Kevin McCauley

The new GT, in other words, gives you everything you want in a max-performance machine, and exactly none of the things you don't. That makes this Ford a very literal take on the "street legal race car" cliché, in its purest definition. And that's far more than you can say of any mere supercar.