And it doesn’t matter if you turn the Urus in to fast corners while you’re still braking or from a more conventional straight-line stance, because its front end will simply bite down hard on the tarmac and turn, calmly.
The diff sends 60% of its drive to the rear end as its default idea, but up to 87% when it needs to, and on the track it needs to, so it does.
The result is a monster machine that eschews understeer in complete denial of its nose-heavy weight distribution, in favour of a near neutral stance all the time.
It’s a jet on a racetrack, with the brakes hanging in indefinitely and only the tyres calling for a rest after a few laps of belligerence, and it all does a remarkable job of making the driver feel engaged and deep inside the machine, rather than sitting on top of it.
And it’s easy to do, too. You don’t need to be a competition-standard driver to get a bunch of pace out of the Urus. You just need to remember to brake, turn and accelerate and then the Urus will take care of the rest for you.
While it’s blisteringly fast on tarmac, it’s not quite as convincing on dirt. It raises the ride height and it’s a lot of fun, but the front-heavy weight distribution can’t be masked on loose surfaces like it is on tarmac.
It hammers away from the line, bellowing and barking in Terra mode, but its mighty braking system has to fall back within the limitations of its tyres to wash off speed. And nobody is out there making 23-inch rally rubber.
It also has to fight off understeer, especially in slow corners, and no amount of left-foot braking will swing the tail out enough to overcome it completely. It will get it done with a light slide if you’re patient enough though.
It’s brilliant and at its best flicking through fast corners, "five" calls and upwards for anybody on a 1-10 rally pace note system. On this kind of bend it can be drifted loosely in on weight transfer alone, then punched through under power before flicking back the other way and holding long slides that never feel threatening.
But as for hard-core off-road work, well, we never saw any of that. And neither will anybody else, most likely.
The ride quality is clearly at its best in the Strada mode, though over the notoriously broken roads of Lazio (the state that Rome calls home) there were times when it wasn’t smooth enough. Most of the time, yes, but sometimes not. Then again, those roads would make anything feel rough. Judge its ride on your own test drives.
We suspect it’s smooth and comfortable enough, especially for its target audience, and it’s not worse than a Bentayga.
It gets considerably more jarring in Sport mode and, in Lazio, unbearable in Corsa (which is as it should be, given Corsa is a track mode). But ride is only one of the issues here.
The gearshifts on the track are hard and loud and positive in both Sport and Corsa. At full throttle, they’re wonderful. At anything less than full throttle, Sport’s upshifts are a bit jerky and Corsa’s are unbearably hard (but, again, that’s probably as it should be).
Maybe the biggest question mark remains over Lamborghini’s sales and marketing ideas for the Urus, and whether it has learned from the disaster the Bentley Continental GT was when it was originally foisted upon its dealer body.
Dealers who read the Bentley playbook are already cautioning Lamborghini to take a lot of smaller bites to maintain Urus interest over its lifecycle rather than trying to fill every order as soon as there’s interest and there is evidence that CEO Stefano Domenicali is listening.
Bentley drove dealers out of business all over the world as they struggled to cope with volumes and trade-ins they weren’t equipped to deal with.
Lamborghini is hoping to push out 3,500 Uruses a year, which will add about 15% to its volumes a year. It’s a real risk, as much as an opportunity.