No one laughs at your lime-green car when it's a Lamborghini.

They might smile slightly as you bend, fold and stuff yourself into the Lamborghini's impossibly low driver's seat (aimed, I guess, at the car's primary demographic group, millionaire gymnasts.) They may grin when you have to stop and electronically lift the front of the pavement-skimming Italian 4 inches before pulling into a driveway – lest you relieve the Lambo of several thousand dollars' worth of low-hanging composite and carbon-fiber pieces.

But when the 512 horsepower awakens with its spine-tingling, flat bellow – the barely muted thunder of violent storms in 10 smallish cylinders – the smiles stop.

After all, even metallic lime-green cars look good at 200 mph – or so I'm told.

The 2008 Lamborghini I had recently is the last of the Gallardos with the current 5-liter engine. In '09, the V-10 gets punched to 5.2 liters and blasts out an extra 50 horsepower. To be honest, I'm not sure I missed it much – and, yes, that does indeed sound like someone who's getting old. Maybe it's temporary.

But 10 years ago, a car with the Gallardo's speed and power would have been delivered with one seat in it, open exhausts, huge slick tires and a number on the door.

This is a 3,300-pound midengine exotic with all-wheel drive, highly sophisticated suspension pieces and an edgy 302 cubic-inch V-10 that churns out 512 horsepower on pump gas – without any turbocharging or supercharging. How much is enough?

You'll appreciate that pump-gas part, too. The Gallardo is rated at 11 miles per gallon city, 17 highway – and I can report that 11 might be a lot closer to reality. (I saw 5.5 a few times.) Once again, I presume, we won't be featured in this week's Environmental Defense Fund newsletter.

I suppose I could claim that the main reason I was interested in this stunning $195,000 car was to sample one more example of high-end hot-rod technology.

As you know, virtually all of the advances in performance, handling and safety typically arrive first in six-figure cars. (Imagine that.) We need to know what's going on with rich guys' cars, right?

But the truth is I'd probably be willing to streak the next Belo annual stockholders meeting just for the chance to rip around the block in a Gallardo.

The car is so good it's as hard to get into as an elitist Ivy League college – and I'm not talking expense. The procedure is you find enough room to open the door fully, stick one leg in, push with the other and drop into the seat.

The Gallardo, by the way, is so low that its roof hits me just below my chest – giving me a rare chance to tower over something. When I leaned out the door, I could easily put my hand on hot Dallas pavement.

Inside, the highly bolstered bucket seats and leather-covered dash are stitched in lime green to match the, uh, metallic shimmer of the exterior.

Thanks to Audi, which owns Lamborghini, the interior has more German order than you would find in a typical exotic – and I'm not talking BMW's brand of order. Although kind of plain, the black center stack contains all of the switches and controls you need to tune the radio, navigate, deal with the climate-control system – or lift the front end.

Don't ask, however, about the Gallardo's operating temperature or oil pressure. The windshield is raked so steeply that I would have needed binoculars to see those gauges, which were housed in a slot at the top of the dash.

With the engine on and spouting wonderful Italian-sounding noises, that won't matter much. When you pull the right side paddle on the steering wheel, engaging first in the automatic-manual six-speed transmission, your eyes will be riveted to the tach and speedometer in front of you and the road ahead. Way ahead.

Zero to 60 arrives in a noisy rush in less than four seconds. Like lots of cars that make more than 100 horsepower per liter, the Lambo isn't blessed with much low-end torque.

And that peaky power curve is made more noticeable sometimes by the car's goofy transmission – basically a six-speed manual without a clutch pedal shifted by a computer – which can be as clunky at low speeds as my bad foot.

But all is forgotten and forgiven in the howling rush from 4,000 rpm to the 8,000-rpm redline – a wild, intoxicating, lightning ride. And kind of addictive, officer. (I was going how fast?)

First gear will get you 60 mph, second 100, third jail time – and fourth catapults you into a different time zone, I think.

As with most all-wheel-drive cars, the Gallardo steers heavily. With all-wheel drive, 19-inch wheels and 235/30 tires up front – as well as 295/30s on the rear – there's lots of mass to move.

I never quite got used to some numbness off-center, either. Nonetheless, the 3,600-pound car reacts quickly to inputs and clings to corners with a ferocity that can inflate your confidence.

Just don't push it too far. With enough speed and g-forces, all-wheel-drive cars can lapse into big-time understeer.

But for the most part on the street, you can ignore the Lambo's mass and trust its grip. This is a car far happier at speed than loafing along in the slow lane.

And you will feel that competence in every bump on Dallas' battered streets. Firm, uncompromising rides don't much bother me anymore (I long ago abandoned the notion that life might be a smooth cruise down Easy Street).

The Lambo, however, is way beyond firm and well into harsh – stepping stiffly over virtually every imperfection. But, hey, you won't need to bother stopping for that overpriced latte for the morning drive.

But the ride just reinforces the sense that this car is the real deal – intensely real.

It's good to be green, kids.