2021 Lamborghini Urus on 2040-cars

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Lamborghini Cabrera spotted, ready to fill Gallardo shoes

Facebook user Marchettino (already a minor YouTube celebrity for his supercars channel) spotted the successor to the Lamborghini Gallardo throne out and about on public streets and was kind enough to snap a few photos of the machine. Word has it that a concept car precursor to the newest supercar will bow at the upcoming Frankfurt Motor Show this September under the Cabrera name. As you've likely already heard, the model is said to ride on the second-generation Audi R8 platform, complete with a composite aluminum and carbon fiber construction to reduce weight as much as possible. How light will will the Cabrera be? Lamborghini is reportedly shooting for a curb weight of around 3,300 pounds.
Power will likely come from a massaged version of the 5.2-liter V10 in the current Gallardo. Expect around 600 horsepower and 400 pound-feet of torque.
The vehicle in these photos looks to have abandoned some of the Gallardo's angles in favor or more organic lines, though it's possible body cladding is hiding the car's true design. Murcielago SV-style sills and side air intakes serve up quite a bit of aggression and the quad exhaust looks properly menacing as well. We can't wait to see the finished product.

Report: Lamborghini Urus spells it 'Lanborghini'

Maybe Lamborghini was too busy making shoes. Maybe it was spending too much time on social media. Or maybe it was spending too much time reminiscing about the past. But somewhere along the way, a Lamborghini owner says, somebody accidentally typed "n" instead of "m," spelling "Lanborghini" on the Urus infotainment screen. Based on a report from Carbuzz, the misspelling on one of @TorontoCarNut's Urus screens was the first domino in a slew of electrical issues on the $200,000-plus performance SUV. The owner took the SUV into the shop to fix the misspelling, but numerous issues continued to pop up after the appointment. The Urus rear hatch no longer opens with foot motion, the rear courtesy lights no longer work, and Apple CarPlay doesn't work with WiFi, among other problems. The dealership reportedly offered to give the owner a brand new Urus to resolve the issue, according to this account, but he turned it down. It is expected that brand-new models will have issues during first runs, but it is nonetheless unfortunate to see these types of problems show up on a car that costs so much money and commands a high standard. Are any of the small handful of Urus owners out there reading this? If so, do you have a "Lanborghini" lurking in your infotainment system? This content is hosted by a third party. To view it, please update your privacy preferences. Manage Settings.

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.