Parkway journeys aren't the best use of the Spyder's talents, but they can get you to regions where the roads wind and wend, twist and bend. But we're not there just yet.
At high speed, the Spyder is perplexing. Thanks to that 8,000 rpm redline, which sits there on the tachometer, beckoning one to, you know, test it. Hammer the accelerator and observe the needle climb until the soulful huff of the flat six becomes, if not a scream, then a sort of throaty yowl. I wanted to throw the shifter into fifth, but the engine only needs second and (barely) third. The torque is so cussedly available after three snicks that you rapidly forget about downshifting for more pop and simply hang out around 4,000 or 5,000 rpm and grab speed whenever you want or need it.
The Spyder basically trifles with everything else on the road, save the odd Voodoo V8 Mustang, a flat-crank hellraiser that's actually a fine track-day choice, but that offers none of the Spyder's panache. In a GT350, the redline is 8,250 rpm, which I used to dismember a racetrack in Utah a few years back, without departing from third gear.