DIRTY ROTTEN SCOUNDRELS

You wait a lifetime for a supercar that's as much fun off the beaten track as it is on it... then two come along at once

- TOM FORD

The sense of wrongness is what gets you. You're peering down the barrel of a honeycomb themed Lamborghini Huracán interior, or across the fetish crisp arcs of a set of Porsche 911 dials, and beyond is, basically, a path made for goats. Wild goats with satanic eyes. There are sullen holes and bitter little ditches, tree stumps and various types of rock, all considering a menu of potential damage from chipped paint to a dislocated axle. Said path isn't quite wide enough for either car, so there's a wilful ignorance to the susurration of branches on the flanks that speaks of the necessity of machine polishing in the near future, and there are more than one or two crunching sounds that sound ominously expensive. And yet we press on.

All is not quite as it seems though. Some would call it abuse, but technically, using a tool in the manner for which it was designed is perfectly legitimate. This is a mantra repeated just as a bright orange, £230,000 Lamborghini Huracán Sterrato launches itself into a glorious slide, limestone shale machine gunning the sidepods and rear arches, undertray clattering, V10 splendidly operatic. A slight yump and we float lightly into the air, a brief moment of silence before ploughing our ridiculous furrow onwards towards a water splash of indeterminate depth. Lamborghini may have made its name building tractors,' but I'm not sure this is what Ferruccio had in mind.