The temperature gauge flashed “103” as I rolled to a cease behind a strong wall of visitors on the Main Deegan Expressway. We sat unmoving, the solar cooking my fair-skinned fiancée and me like hogs at a luau. The comfortable, fantastically quilted and fairly clearly non-ventilated leather-based hides beneath our thighs started to really feel like melted pudding.
Even so, I refused to shut the lid on the Italian solar satan we had on mortgage for the weekend. Round us and beneath us, concurrently making us smile and sweat, was the physique of Lamborghini’s newest and best Gallardo Spyder, the