I’m heading for the hills near Modena, Italy, in a screaming yellow Lamborghini Jalpa, chassis No. 419, the final one built and bearing Ferruccio Lamborghini’s fading signature on its blue leather dash. I’m squirming around to get comfortable—Lambos are not built for short people, and the tiny offset pedal box means I have to sit diagonally—when a silver Volvo SUV blows past me and the maroon Lambo Urus I’m following.
“Passed by a Volvo,” I say to Massimo Delbo, automotive historian and my co-pilot for the day. “I have an excuse, but those guys in the Urus should be ashamed.” Delbo picks up his walkie-talkie and repeats my snark in Italian to the occupants of the super SUV. A static-crackled reply comes back, and as Delbo translates it—“If he wants a roller coaster ride, I’ll give him one”—the Urus takes off with
