Outdoorsmen appreciate the beauty of western North Carolina for the endless hiking trails they use to explore the majestic Blue Ridge Mountains. Architectural historians flock to the area to stay in the shadow of George Vanderbilt’s 250-room chateaux, the legendary Biltmore House. Golfers, of course, love Asheville because they are surrounded by some of the best courses in the country.

I enjoy all of these pursuits, but the first thing I remember about my visit to the Biltmore Estate & Winery in Asheville, North Carolina is driving a Range Rover up to the top of a steep, man-made slope. Passing over the crest, I hear my driving instructor tell me to ease off the brake.

“We’ll flip this thing over if we go down that hill,” I say. “No vehicle can drive straight down an embankment this steep.”

It should be a moment of euphoria similar to what the guy in the first row of a roller coaster car enjoys when he hits that initial descent. But in my case, I’ve prolonged it in a fit of hysteria (not euphoria) by refusing to let up on the brake.

Greg Nikolas, my instructor, reminds me about HDC: hill descent control, one of many fancy drive-train systems making this particular Range Rover able to conquer any barrier George Vanderbilt’s rugged country house can throw at it. Of course, the barriers are all part of the Land Rover Driving School on the grounds of the estate. As daunting as they seem, they’re set up to showcase the four-wheel electronic traction controls that come equipped on these sophisticated British SUVs.

Mr. Nikolas is a patient man, as a driving instructor at any such academy must be when Sunday drivers like me come up against seemingly impossible-to-cross road barriers. Then there’s the road itself: Land Rover engineers cut a swath into the side of a mountain that created a roadway that leans a vehicle 45 degrees on its side. (Just a couple more degrees, I later learn, and any car is in danger of rolling over on its side and down the hill. In Hollywood, the car bursts into flames and explodes…)

I had to lean my body 45 degrees towards the passenger side simply to remain seated straight up—not a position that I normally find comfortable.

To be sure, I had expected the Land Rover school to be a weekend aimed at insufferable Yuppies who had recently purchased their own Land Rovers and were hoping to learn about them amidst the golf, winery tours, and restaurants at Biltmore. But the school has also become popular among corporate team-building programs, where, along with learning to trust the Range Rover’s computer-enhanced drive train, you must learn to trust Larry from Accounting to navigate the logs, ruts, and gullies with the same confidence you displayed in an earlier drive-around.

The estate, which is still privately owned by one of Vanderbilt’s direct heirs, boasts world-class accommodations and views of its vineyards, lodge, and main house. I used my weekend stay to take advantage of all these sites, from touring the Frederick Law Olmstead-designed gardens to hitting one of the many links in the area.

If you enroll in the driving school on your own (and not because your company wants you to know the guys from Accounting better), it’s best to take the full-day course ($795). You’ll want to allow yourself time to experience the full range of Land Rover offerings (there are currently three models), plus enjoy a catered lunch in the glorious mountains of western North Carolina. Land Rover has carved out so many challenging trails through this country that you’ll want to practice your photographic talents as well.

It’s your driving talents that will truly be tested, however, and you’ll discover abilities behind the wheel that you never knew you had. The majority of the world’s drivers have no clue as to just how far they can push their car to the limits. The Land Rover Driving School takes this spirit one step further: The idea here is that you’ve bought one of the most advanced all-terrain vehicles on earth. Now, by God, learn how to use it. And then there’s the kicker: You return to civilization and brag to your friends about your off-roading prowess.

Indeed, my day of driving had barely ended and I was already lecturing fellow guests at the Inn as to how deftly I maneuvered the new $57,000 Range Rover Sport over a ravine that must have been a mile deep. I told these tales at the winery, where—unbelievably—they grew taller with every glass of local cabernet. By the end of my day of touring the Blue Ridge back-country, I had morphed from a neurotic, white-knuckled driver into a four-wheeling master of all I surveyed.

Was it me — or was it the car?