(FORTUNE Magazine) – "Elle est folle!" screamed the Lycra-wrapped cyclist as I popped Honda's hot little roadster, the S2000, into third and shot by him. Luckily, no one else was there to witness my folly as I corkscrewed through the Grand Canyon of southern France, les Verdon Gorges. Chased by the smell of tire-squeal (and the fast-fading curses of my gravity-hampered friend), I watched the red glow of the Formula 1-style digital tach as it fanned toward its 9,000 rpm top end. This was some deafening, frog-flattening fun.

Monsieur Lycra had a right to be angry. After all, no French manufacturer has put out a car like this one for a while. Nor, for that matter, has Japan (and that includes the lower-priced Miata). But knowing that European manufacturers all but own the midrange sports car market--the Porsche Boxster, BMW M Roadster, Audi TT, and Mercedes SLK in the U.S.; the Lotus Elise, MG MGF, Alfa Spider, and Fiat Barchetta abroad--the Japanese did something very...Japanese. With great precision, Honda engineers dissected the emotions evoked by a highfalutin Continental two-seater: They deconstructed the complex, adrenaline-stirring voice of a power plant in full swing, the confidence that a short-throw shifter inspires, the playful agility of a stiff ride. In other words, quite scientifically--datum by datum--they programmed this thing to make our hearts beat faster. (You think I'm exaggerating? I sat through a long technical presentation where Honda's executive chief engineer, Shigeru Uehara, said things like, "We aimed to let some wind blow into the face within a range that is not uncomfortable. To this end, the height of the drip molding of the front pillar was raised and the pillar surface angle was optimized to create the wind flow." Whoa.)

Whatever they did, it worked. The S2000 drives more like a motorcycle than a car. "The recent tendency of sports-car design has been to create a car that satisfies the standards of the times, including environmental friendliness, safety, and luxury," says Uehara. "This leads to an increase in weight, taking away from dynamic performance."

There's certainly no lack of performance in the S2000: It's a safe, low-emissions, high-caliber bullet. The roadster is powered by the highest horsepower-per-liter, normally aspirated engine in production today--a 240-hp, 2-liter 4 cylinder. From its double-wishbone suspension and the blissful absence of traction control to a taut, formula-style body, it gives the Europeans a run for their money. In fact, at $30,000 loaded, the only way it comes, it should downright shame some of the competition (I hope you're listening, Porsche).

In the speed-friendly hills just off the Cote d'Azur, the Honda put me in track mood. With its low-slung seats, high door sills, and tiny steering wheel, the cockpit feels strangely like the cocoon of an F1 car; plus, all the controls are within a finger's flick of the wheel--making for the overall effect of a high-stakes videogame. I tore up the gorgeous terrain with lots of shifts and noise; the wickedly quick, short-throw six-speed gearbox was absolutely the best I've ever encountered. All other systems proved capable too: The pedals are well placed, the brakes are responsive (thank God), and the car's slight tendency to shake its booty through corners (when pressed hard) is absolutely delightful. I managed a neat 136 mph on one stretch; even then, Mr. Uehara's wind deflector kept the neck-snapping to a tolerable level. Because all the heavy stuff--engine, fuel tank, battery, spare tire--sit within the axles, the car handles wildly well, with little body roll or lolling. Ever.

Back on the beach, the S2000 caused even the well-heeled Cannes Film Festival-goers to gawk, especially when I activated the car's best gimmick--a bright red push-button starter. (The six-second electric top was a close No. 2 for attention-getting at a standstill.) People would stroll right up to admire the car's lipstick-red leather interior, its angular, silvery body, its mystifying "H" logo. "It's a what?" they'd ask incredulously when I explained it stood for Honda.

From the inside looking out, there's a refreshingly Spartan approach to detail. The S2000 wouldn't dream of distracting you from its impressive performance with bells and whistles like dual climate controls, navigation systems, or complex stereos. The only bauble is an aluminum shifter knob. As my companion noted, the passenger-side dashboard is a blank leather screen, the only distraction being the terror inspired by the onrushing scenery.

As for criticisms, they're mostly nitpicks: There's some bad carpeting on the center console where there ought to be more leather. And although electronically limited to 150 mph, the car didn't like to pull much beyond 130 (an admittedly moot point for most people). On a more serious note, the otherwise spectacular engine lacks torque: only 153 foot-pounds, compared with the M Roadster's 236. The only way to wring all the juice out of the S2000 is by revving it past 8,000 rpm--a high-pitched howl that driving enthusiasts love but the neighbors don't. Last caveat: Given its spare setup, the S2000 inspires lots of semilegal, high-performance antics. But then, I see that as a compliment.