On the face of it, there shouldn’t be a lot of difference between two convertible supercars, both powered by the same incrdible engine. The Audi R8 V10 Spyder and the Lamborghini Gallardo LP570-4 Performante share enough DNA to be siblings, but these twins are not identical. Far from it. In fact, they’re a great example of how much room for manoeuvre there is within a genre, even when produced by the same corporation.
The chief ingredient on both these cars is the 5204cc V10 engine. It’s identically mounted amidships, behind the driver and in front of the rear axles. Even the platforms share components – the R8 is based on the Gallardo’s foundations, and both send their considerable horsepower to all four wheels.

And yet despite their common parents in the form of the Volkswagen Group, the Audi and Lamborghini badges couldn’t really be more different. One is an austere, practical and efficient German organisation, while the other is a flamboyant Italian firm that went from making tractors to lunatic poster cars in a fairly short space of time. So an in-depth, on-road investigation into how these disparate machines go about their business should prove interesting.

To help me, I’ve brought in a man who knows a thing or two about supercars. Jon Simmonds has helped out on Evo tests before, and as a UAE GT champion race car driver, he’s more than comfortable with a bit of high horsepower fun. As we meet at the Evo offices and prepare to cruise out of Dubai, it’s horsepower that seems the logical place to start this comparison.

The Lambo uses the same tune as in the Superleggera Coupe, with 562bhp. In fact, the Performante is very similar to the lightweight coupe in its approach. It’s some 65kg lighter than the regular Spyder but still 75kg lighter than the regular coupe, and the need for the folding roof mechanism means it’s 145kg heavier than the Superleggera. Nevertheless, the stripping of weight and all that power means there’s no mistaking its intent.
Not that you’d make such a mistake looking at it. In its shimmering white paint and carbon fibre elements dotted all over the exterior, it’s a mean, focused looking bit of kit, although the black roof looks small and misplaced compared to the sharp angles elsewhere. It looks like a bodybuilder holding a parasol. Carbon splashes all over the side sills, diffuser and door mirrors, on the underbody and across the engine cover. Open the doors and there’s yet more black weave inside; on the transmission tunnel, the door panels and on the bottom of the steering wheel, as well as the back of the thin bucket seats. Anything that’s not carbon fibre is covered in swathes of Alcantara; the steering wheel and the dashboard are fully clothed in the stuff. It’s all very motorsport, very performance, very in-your-face.

The Audi, on the other hand, isn’t. It’s dramatic, don’t get me wrong; it’s a mid-engined convertible supercar, and even in the relatively restrained colour combo of our test car (black, with a burgundy roof), it has presence. But it’s a refined, classy presence, much less shouty in its appearance. You can sort of imagine non-car fans paying it scant attention on the road. Ain’t nobody missing the Lambo. The uninterested will be missing something if they pass the R8 by though. Its roof fits better with the overall shape of the car than its Italian stablemate, looking like an integral part of the design rather than an afterthought.

The interior is unremarkable for a supercar; pleasant, but not very exciting in its design. It is, as is usual for Audi, very well made however.
Enough standing around; after a three minute delay as Jon tries to figure out how to put the Lamborghini into reverse (via  button to the left of the steering wheel, obviously), we get out on the road. Once settled into the R8’s seat and on the move, there’s more of a sense of occasion than I initially gave the car credit for. Despite the subdued interior, the driving position is low, and the transmission tunnel high. It’s undoubtedly a high-performance, cockpit-like interior, and the view out of the rear window is suitably tiny.

The ride as I get out onto the motorway is ridiculously supple for a supercar. I expected bone-shattering stiffness, but the magnetic dampers soak up everything superbly while rendering body roll a distant memory as I power around the on-ramp. And as I open up the throttle, I savour the 518bhp engine’s warble. It’s a deep, rich and complex noise, not the scream that I remember from Formula 1 V10s. In fact, it sounds like an extra two layers of cylinder noise draped over a V8. Which makes sense, I suppose.

It’s certainly not as loud as the Lamborghini, which is shrieking away behind me and noticeable even though I still have the roof up. The Arabian summer has not quite died away, so I’ll save the topless experience for the real action. On an uneventful cruise north towards the quiet, desert roads of Ras Al Khaimah, I reflect that for a supercar with a lid made from cloth, the R8 is remarkably quiet. At 120kph it’s louder than an A4, but it’s still entirely possible to have a conversation without shouting.
An hour later, we turn off the main road and onto the stretch of tarmac we’ve been waiting for; a ribbon of grey that snakes between golden dunes. There’s no other traffic around. Excellent. Such tight bends, rising and falling with the natural flow of the sand underneath the asphalt, will really give the chassis of both cars a workout, and we’ll find out whether having the top lopped off adversely affects the drivability of these former coupes.
I stay in the R8 to start with, and am immediately impressed by the sheer speed with which it responds and gathers pace. For something that’s everyday docile around town, it’s capable of lightning quick reactions. The throttle blips beautifully, revs climbing in an instant and dropping back down just as fast when the pedal rises. Audi has blessed its Spyder with a hugely grippy front end and the meaty steering works with the tyres to dig in to the road. The four-wheel drive conjures up superb punch and traction out of the corners, although I have to wait a fraction longer than I’m used to before squeezing on the power, as early application washes the car into mild understeer.

The roof is safely stowed now, and that beautiful noise has a chance to caress my ears before being whipped out of the back of the car by a vortex of wind that largely leaves my hair untouched. It really is an orchestral sound, thick with bass notes and shrill harmonies over the top. And the conductor is going at a hell of a lick. 100kph comes up in just 4.1 seconds, and even on these stop-start, tight roads I’m making rapid progress.
The sun blazes down as Jon and I swap over, and I begin to regret not putting on sun cream. Clambering into the Lamborghini, I also regret not being shorter. Straight away it’s clear that I’m too tall for the car, and Jon’s smile suggests he identifies. The carbon-backed bucket seat is moveable only forwards and backwards, so I can’t lower it. Which is a bit of an issue, as my head protrudes out of the car and the steeply raked windscreen ends right in my eyeline. As we set off, I have to stoop to see anything in the distance. Or stretch upwards to look over the top, but that just feels silly. Stooping is the most natural option, as the seat design itself wasn’t made with those of a long back in mind. The headrest digs into the back of my neck and it’s not long before I start getting serious backache.

So far, I’m wishing I was back in the Audi, but then I open the Performante up. It’s such a more feral, ferocious beast than the R8 with a high-pitched engine note that’s not clean and tuned like a Ferrari, but raw, intense and banshee-like. The surge forward is savage; the Lambo pulls and pulls and pulls to the 9000rpm redline, when a tug on the large right hand e-gear paddle results in a violent bang and a punch in the kidneys from the V10. The R8 is fast, but the more powerful, lighter and more sensitive Gallardo is a large step ahead when it comes 
to pace.
It’s got huge amounts of grip both at the front and at the back, letting me barrel into corners, turn the heavy wheel and rely on the front tyres, push through the middle of it with the faintest hint of understeer that’s modulated on the throttle, and then awesome traction on the way out as all four-wheels meld rubber into tarmac. The gear change is so jerky that mid-corner changes are a big no-no unless you want to be spat sideways. The steering isn’t the sharpest I’ve ever felt in a supercar but it has a reassuring heft to it and it’s quick too. I never worried about where the fronts were going to go on turn in, and I never worried about stopping either; the brake pedal has a fair distance of travel, but once the brakes kick in they scrub off speed with immense, neck-straining power.

The Lambo is very easy to drive very fast, and I’d really like to try it on a track. While it felt a little skittish on the admittedly very sandy roads of our test route, I still had plenty of faith in it. The limits are not to be fully explored on public roads, it’s too hardcore for that, but I’m nonetheless grateful that no police were around.

It’s not terrifying to drive at speed, but it’s an experience you want to focus on. Turn off the radio, hush the passenger and really concentrate, whereas the R8 doesn’t have the same sense of drama to it. That’s a machine 
that will happily be driven fast while you have 
a conversation.
The Performante experience reflects its no-comprise looks. It’s dramatic, but after an hour in the seat it didn’t scare me as much as when I first opened up the throttle and felt those Latina hips shimmy.

But I’m nevertheless exhilarated and prepared to forgive all its faults after a good hack through the twisties. At least, until I drive it more calmly again. My back aches and I’m fed up of being thrown around by the gearbox. And as the thumb rests on the wheel spokes sit at 20 past four rather than quarter past three, I feel like I’m squeezing my elbows into my ribs to hold it properly. The interior’s not a patch on the Audi either, with – ironically – far too many Audi switches and controls.

After an enlightening few runs, Jon and I convene. “They are both really fun, exceptional cars in their own way,” he muses. “The Lamborghini though is a third or fourth car for the uber-rich; a toy, something you’d use on a winter’s evening. You’d maybe take it for dinner and park it outside a flash hotel. But as a drive it’s uncompromising and doesn’t suit anyone over 5ft 10in. The seat’s uncomfortable and visibility is awful, but it is a lot of fun.

“The Audi on the other hand is a beautiful car from any angle. It still has a big wow factor, but not quite the show-off factor of the Lamborghini. It’s a car that people will look at and admire, and it’s definitely got the practicality to be a daily driver if it was your only car, which is quite saying something as it’s a full-on cabrio and a full-on sports car.”

He’s hit the nail on the head. There’s no way I could live with the Performante day-to-day, unless I got a police waiver to commute every day at maximum attack. It’s the weapon of choice for the ultimate road or a racetrack, but completely impractical. And yet, cut from the same cloth, the R8 Spyder has a far broader appeal. You could go to the shops in it and have a fantastic drive home. It doesn’t have the edge of the Lambo, but it’s considerably cheaper
and does a much better job of being all things 
to all men. Just so long as those men have 
large wallets.

Big thanks to EVO Middle East >>>