2005 Lamborghini Gallardo Coupe Clear Bonnet+e-gear+sl Carbon Fiber Wing on 2040-cars

Auto blog

Yes, this is a video of a Lamborghini towing some goats

It's hard not to overthink this one. Yes, the world is a vast and strange place. And Australia is known for all kinds of vehicular tomfoolery. But what the hell is going on here? First off, trailer on a Lamborghini Murcielago. Try to grasp the thought process that leads to that decision. Actually, it probably intersects pretty close with goat ownership. Still, I want to see the data for the overlap between those two demographics. So there you go, your weird internet video for the morning. Apologies for making you listen to the Limp Bizkit soundtrack. Related Video: Humor Lamborghini Videos viral video

2019 Lamborghini Urus shows off its drive modes

Urus: Rambo Lambo Part II is debuting in just under two weeks. The follow-up to the long departed Lamborghini LM002 takes a much different course than its rough-and-tumble forbearer. The Urus looks to be a genuine performance vehicle, albeit in the shape of a sharp and chiseled crossover. The new model is powered by a twin-turbo V8 making roughly 650 horsepower. This new teaser shows the Urus blasting around on some desert roads. Frankly, it looks like a riot. We know roughly what the exterior will look like, but this teaser is our first look at the Urus' interior. It looks to have the same digital instrument cluster from the 2017 Lamborghini Aventador S. There's also an Anima toggle switch that appears to flip through quite a few drive modes. Translating the Italian to English shows modes for street, sport, race, sand, land and snow. This is an SUV after all, and a pretty sweet-looking one at that. We don't yet have all the details for the new model, but its Dec. 4 reveal isn't too far off. Stay tuned for more. Related Video: This content is hosted by a third party. To view it, please update your privacy preferences. Manage Settings. News Source: YouTube Lamborghini Crossover SUV Performance

2015 Lamborghini Aventador LP 700-4 Roadster Review

"Lamborghini Murcielago." That's what I would tell anyone who asked what my favorite car was. Yes, there were easier cars to drive than the wailing wraith from Sant'Agata Bolgnese, and that was partly why I liked it so. It was impossible to see out the back – reversing was easiest done with the door open, sitting on the sill. My head banged the door frame when I checked traffic on the left. The seat made my butt hurt. The cabin ergonomics were based on a design language that humans haven't yet translated. It boiled over in stop-and-go traffic. It was big. Yet it drove like nothing else, with the instant zig-zag reflexes of a mako designed in The Matrix. The Murcielago's thrills weren't laid out on the ground, you had to dig for them with your bare hands. And that's what made it outstanding. When I first drove the Aventador at its launch in Rome, I spent the day blasting around the circuit at Vallelunga. It was so easy to drive – "too easy by half," as Jeremy Clarkson would later say of it – viciously quick, unholy fun, and very good. But it was a little too easy to drive. Which is why the Murcielago remained my favorite car, ever. Until two weeks ago. The Aventador came when the rough-diamond Gallardo was Lamborghini's in-house reference for ease-of-use. But now we have the fire-and-forget Huracan. Having driven one after the other, and on the context of LA streets instead of the smooth and open landscape of Vallelunga or Laguna Seca, I now see the Aventador for what it truly is: the representation of the bull that's on the Lamborghini badge – head-down, horns-out anger. Like the Murcielago, the Aventador is big. It's more than ten inches longer than a Chevrolet Corvette, five inches wider than a Dodge Charger SRT Hellcat, and 3.5 inches wider than a Dodge Viper. It is also low, an inch lower than the already ground-floor Huracan. I won't pretend to be rational about it: the Aventador says everything I want a car to say. It's the certain, antidotal statement to brief and befuddled everyday lives. The cabin is a cockpit in every sense: close-fitted, button-filled, lit up. I'm five-foot-eleven, and I wear it like a tailored suit. I gave a ride to a guy who's six-foot-three and perhaps 260 pounds, so it can fit much larger frames but I still don't know how he got in or out through that scissor-door opening. The trunk in the Murcielago was big enough to hold a single dream.