The wind reached a fever pitch. We couldn't drive. We couldn't even make it to the cars, lest we be pelted with mouthfuls of sand and grit. Behind the sturdy cinderblock Streets of Willow garage we sat huddled in our cars, trying to gain some shelter as we heard the ping-ding-biddle of rocks pelting the doors. The video crews mistakenly left their cars and found themselves huddled behind the yellow LFA, a pitiful attempt to seek any rudimentary shelter. Paul Walker waited inside his lifted Toyota Tacoma, sunglasses resolvedly on his face. The mountains disappeared behind an ashen curtain of tan.

"They've opened the doors for us," one of the video people mouthed from outside the car before he dashed inside, clumsily. Paul and Rich were huddled behind the building like soldiers dodging a sniper ambush. They pulled their hoodies tight and ran wildly around the corner, whooping wildly, just as the wind sweeps a cloud of dust and sand and rocks around the corner and into our faces. My sunglasses blew off my face and scattered across the gravel for a good 10 or 15 feet.

Ever see a supercar blanketed in dust? The black LFA in particular garnered Rorschach-like streaks and splotches, its aerodynamics shaped exactly where the fine grit of dust goes, and—more importantly—where it's blown off. It's refreshing to catch a glimpse of such a car with an air of insouciance, abused as it was by some Biblical trial by dust. All exotics deserve to be run this hard.

We were inside now; we were safe from the storm, though we could see the porta-potties listing dangerously. Cardboard trash cans blew past us. The windows shook, the wind howled, and the doors banged on their hinges, as evidence that nature transcends supercars and celebrities alike.

"It's fast and furious," quipped Lexus PR manager Bill Kwong, "no pun intended."

Autoweek Magazine — How to Outrun a Dust Storm in a Lexus LFA