The Gallardo’s body takes high-school geometry and makes it sizzle. No fleeing cats or sleeping females here; the Gallardo is all vectors, trapezoids, arcs, and angles both obtuse and acute, hunkered down on four huge 19-inch alloy spheres. Even the starter motor on the Gallardo sounds fast. Turn the key, and the frenetic chugging ends in a sultry whoosh of combustion as the 303-cubic-inch DOHC 40-valve V-10 ignites. The engine settles quickly on a breathless 1000-rpm idle, ready for anything from a lazy trawl down a boulevard to a blast up to the 8100-rpm redline, the wide torque band pushing hard from rest and the intake tract sucking obscenely from the fender ducts. Paddles on the column ask for shifts while hydraulically controlled robotic fingers change the cogs in as little as 0.0012 second. A button left of the column selects reverse with a percussion of whines, clicks, and thunks from behind. The sharp and lovely bark of a computer-controlled throttle blip accompanies each downshift.