You could make excuses for why you’ve never been all that into them.

Porsches have always been more your style. British sports cars have always been unreliable; Japanese sports cars always work. The Italians always look like they’re from the future.

Fire up a 2015 Jaguar F-Type R Coupe and all those words stop somewhere in the back of your throat. Punch the throttle and I guarantee those words become bitter pills to swallow. If the looks didn’t hook you, the “brrrraaap-blaaaat-snap-rap-rap-rap” certainly did. Sounds like this make children wave at you. Looks this good stop traffic. Unluckily for you, it’d be better if they were never there at all.

Make no mistake: The Jaguar F-Type R Coupe is the best sounding car I’ve heard in a long time. Not by a long degree, but certainly by a measurable amount. And in case you didn’t look at the massive shoulders and tight passenger compartment and tidy rear end in the pictures above, its looks are no slouch either. And if the 911’s best compliment is that its performance is approachable, the best thing I can say about the Jag is that it’s assault on the senses is stratospheric.

I don’t mean to fool you, though. The test car you see before you is six figures, albeit not exotic. This sculpted, supercharged V8 mass will set you back $102,825, a pittance compared to the supercars it holds court with.

The F-Type R Coupe is plenty worth the superlatives bestowed upon it. Introduced this year alongside the topless version, the coupe competes with a different class of cars. The convertible can best be described as a weekend plaything, a car that does best when luggage is light and the roads are tight. This coupe is more of a grand touring car for longer escapes and deeper pockets. A good F-Type convertible can be found for less money, but the F-Type R is best when fully equipped and opened up longer than a 7Eleven.

Let me explain.

The F-Type R Coupe drops a supercharged 5.0-liter V8 under the hood. Its horsepower (550) is more than a base 911 by a long margin — 200 horsepower to be exact. The comparison is probably more apt between the F-Type R and a 911 S, which adds 50 more horsepower. The F-Type’s significantly heavier shell saps that horsepower advantage to the Jag almost immediately. The additional 400 lbs. in the Jag evens out 0-60 mph times, about 4 seconds to both cars.

The dimensions are nearly identical, each car is nearly 15 feet long, although the 911 sports a shorter wheelbase by 7 inches. That’s because the rear wheels of the Jag, lustily close to its haunches, aren’t doing triple duty in the Jag: rear subframe, engine mount, drive. The Jag’s rear wheels only handle the party that the front engine feeds it and can be jammed in the back for maximum effect.

Although the F-Type R is a spiritual competitor to the 911 S, the cars are fairly different. The law of diminishing marginal utility has dictated that a new 911 on the streets turns very few heads, namely because there’s so many (and they look fairly similar). The Jag is a new kid on the block, with a similar philosophy, but very different approach.

Power is fed to the Jag in a manner resembling coal being thrown into a furnace. It spits, shouts, grasps for another gear and roars away when it grabs it. The blown V8 snarls and spits when the active exhaust system is activated (read: clever way to work around noise restrictions) and grumbles when the system is inactive. Compared to the Porsche’s refined behavior, the Jag is a comparative philistine.

Similarly, the Jag shifts power through a relatively traditional 8-speed automatic in all trims. Compared to the Porsche’s available dual-clutch box (a $4,000 option) the Jag may not be the most modern kid on the block, but the 8-speed does its best to get out of the engine’s way and it does it admirably. Shifts are smooth, and rev-matching downshifts are a nice addition when you’re pressing the car.

Which brings us to speed: the Jag is prodigious. There is no doubt. And the speed is dramatic, which is almost always the best kind. From a stoplight, the stunning black wheels ($400 option) and silver body look like its traveling 100 mph at a standstill. The Jag begs to go fast, everywhere. Imagine commuting to work every day through a series of Dunkin’ Donuts handing out free pumpkin spiced lattes, donuts and money. It’s tempting like that.

And it’s that kind of itch that makes you feel like you’re never really in control of the Jag. It controls you, and you’re merely hanging on for the ride. Comparatively, if the 911 S fits around you, the Jag just devours you. It’s a great feeling, if only for now.

I could go on and on about the car. You want to hear something bad? Fine, the CD player is in an awkward place (in the center console, facing the wrong way.) Want another one? The first person to verify the EPA’s 18 mpg combined rating wins a free hat. The Jag is thirsty when you drive it the way it deserves to be driven. And the F-Type R is so temptingly close to the 911 S in price that you wonder if they started with the price first.

I could go on and on, but I’d rather you hear it for yourself. That’s my excuse for loving this car.

Aaron Cole is managing editor of the Aurora Sentinel. Reach him at acole@aurorasentinel.com