Your outlook is less impeded in the Puma, but like the standard car you’re really only perched a little higher than in, say, a Focus. Still, the deep Recaros clamp you in all the right places, while the short-throw gearshift and neatly arranged pedals compensate for the less commanding driving position.

On typically give-and-take British A- and B-roads, the sporty Puma is genuinely entertaining and can be extended and exploited in a way the super-sized Urus simply can’t. At first, it feels a bit like a Fiesta ST that has had a couple of pints: the character and feel are the same but the actions and reactions are a little lazier and more deliberate.

Push on, though, and you will discover quick steering that engenders real agility, plus there’s bags of grip and a throttle-adjustable playfulness that’s quickly becoming a fast Ford hallmark. Also familiar is the ride, which is just the acceptable side of sharp, although it’s more forgiving than the Fiesta’s.

The Urus is a smoother-riding companion, with its air springs adding some genuine waft when they’re in their softest setting, giving it a luxurious long-distance vibe. Yet flick the driving mode selector from Strada to Sport or Corsa and the focus is instantly sharpened. With the 48V active anti-roll bars keeping everything on the level and the four-wheel steering on its highest alert, the Lamborghini is transformed, its mass simply melting away.

Turn-in isn’t as quick and crisp as the Puma, but the steering is remarkably fast and well-weighted and the car clings onto your chosen line with dogged determination. You’re always aware of the weight, but the trick suspension and steering help put it to the back of your mind, allowing you to revel in its ability to laugh heartily in the face of most of Newton’s laws.



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