The minute I saw that Jalopnik Jonny Lieberman had gotten his mitts on an LS 600hL for a week, I knew we were in for a treat, and I was not disappointed in the least:
Why am I laughing like such an idiot? Seriously, my cheeks hurt from grinning. Well, the reason why is that I’ve died and gone to Heaven, if only for five minutes or so. I’ve had pure automotive moments before. A Porsche Boxster on Decker Canyon. A Miata at 6:00 am Sunday morning on Angeles Crest. A Mustang in the desert. A Se7en on the Dragon. This [The Lexus LS 600hL], screaming along with one of my favorite bands with both feet off the pedals suspended in perfect leather-soaked isolation, ranks right up there. What? Why? Because I was doing exactly exactly what the car has been designed to do. Man in harmony with machine, all 5,219 porky, absurd pounds of it.
Highly enjoyable, it’s nice to read a review that captures just how impressive this car is, the feeling it brings. It’s even possible there won’t be any complaints about the trunk space:
Already looking forward to part two.
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