Man, am I cool in this car. I'm driving on the freeway with the top down when a guy in a souped-up Dodge Neon gives a whistle to get my attention, then signals a thumbs up. Another dude on a Suzuki racing bike speeds up to me in the next lane, slows down to check out the car, and offers an approving nod of his helmet before racing away. And a guy in a Cadillac CTS–the progenitor of the XLR's angular design–is staring at my familiar-looking frame as if he can't believe his eyes. I surge ahead a bit to break his reverie and remind him to get his eyes back on the road.

Cadillac must consider all that attention a mark of success, since there is practically nothing subtle about this car. The styling builds on the CTS's abrupt, Stealth-fighter edges, all the way down to the mirrors and interior door inserts. The hardtop stows itself automatically with the touch of one button, but the procedure is such a gaudy, showboat affair–with compartments opening and closing and mechanical arms stretching into the sky–that you can't help but attract a crowd. When you start the car there is a ferocious roar from the 320-horsepower engine that is how James Earl Jones must sound after getting his finger slammed in a door. The Venice Beach muscularity must seem a bit grotesque to purists, but I have to admit it produces a kind of giddiness when you're driving the XLR. I snickered involuntarily every time I punched the gas on the highway and a sound like a rocket launch came blasting out of the exhaust pipes.

The XLR isn't really that exotic. It's built on the same platform as the new Corvette that will debut next year. That car hasn't arrived on the test circuit yet, but compared with the current Corvette, the XLR rides like a dreamboat. With fat tires and one of the lowest profiles on the road, the XLR has 'Vette-like handling that lets you manhandle curves at twice the speed other cars could tolerate. But it's a far softer ride than the notoriously bumpy 'Vette. Other touches meant to justify the $75,000 sticker–roughly 50 percent more than a Corvette–include lots of cutting-edge electronics that evoke the Batmobile. There's an electronic ignition that has no keyhole and only requires the key to be in or near the car in order to start. Instead of conventional door handles, there's a kind of electronic touchpad in a crevice on the outside that opens the door when you apply pressure, while on the inside there are buttons that spring the door open. "Adaptive" cruise control slows the car down when sensors detect another vehicle up ahead, then accelerates back to speed when the coast clears.

Is the XLR worth $75,000? That's impossible to answer. Eucalyptus wood inserts and other such touches create the obligatory luxury feel inside, but the interior polish and workmanship is not up to the lush, precise standards of competitors like the Lexus SC430, which lists for about $13,000 less. On the test vehicle, for example, the lid covering the XLR's cup holders jammed repeatedly and felt cheap. And the styling lacks the refinement of the elegant Jaguar XKR convertible coupe or Mercedes's feisty yet classic SL series. Yet the XLR is also a one-of-a-kind, a prototypical American muscle car dressed up for a black-tie lifestyle. If you're looking for attitude on every curve–and you can afford it–the XLR is the one.