25 Apr 07
A lot of supercars, high-end sports cars and GTs require you to re-learn how to drive. You have to develop new muscles, so you can operate the clutch and gear lever. You have to acquire a sixth sense, so you can determine the whereabouts of the other traffic that you suspect is there but you can't see because of the thick pillars. You have to get your legs broken and re-set at a kinky new angle, so you can reach the offset pedals. You have to become very good at packing your possessions into small bags. And you have to become a yoga master, to handle the frustration caused by being in a fast, powerful car on roads better suited to a Fiat Panda.
The R8 is guilty on a couple of these charges, but certainly not all. The view out is limited. The boot and the space behind the seats are small, the glovebox is very small and the door pockets are tiny. But where it matters, the R8 is a remarkably usable vehicle. Its 4.2-litre V8 engine revs high, but is happy to trundle along at 2,000rpm, and the clutch action on the manual version is no harder to work than our Skoda Roomster's.
It's also a fantastically comfortable car. The Gallardo that sired the R8 is a reasonably roomy thing, but the Audi has a couple of inches more headroom, which makes getting in and out easier, and the seats have been designed to welcome the wider driver.
And when you drive it, the R8 feels like its mission in life is to make you happy, not to test your virility or catch you out. That's not to say, however, that it wraps you up in the electronic equivalent of cotton wool; yes there is a stability control system, but it's set up to let you have some fun and will only intervene when there is some serious danger of your becoming intimate with a hedge or lamp post.
