|  Hammering the IS-F through the sleepy desert two-lanes of Rosamond, California, I tried to remind myself: "I'm driving a Lexus." But the 416-horsepower sedan leaves little time for inner monologues. Caned hard, the IS-F reels in straight-aways like King Triton's spey rod. Corners arrive before your consciousness can catch up. Quick! Turn in, dip the throttle, unwind the hefty steering and feel the skittering rear wheels rotate you through the apex. Then look down at the silver "L" pointing at your chest. Cognitive dissonance much?
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