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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.

2020 Lamborghini Aventador S Review | One last go in the ring

A sign at the Miura Ranch in Andalusia, Spain, warns any careless human, “Ganado Bravo – Prohibito Entrar.” Brave Cattle – Do Not Enter. The cattle at issue are specifically bulls, and Ferruccio LamborghiniÂ’s visit to the ranch in the 1960s – Lamborghini himself was a Taurus – would provide the thematic source for the names of his cars. Legend says Murcielago, a Navarra fighting bull, was sired into Don Antonio MiuraÂ’s breeding line in 1879 after surviving 24 stabs from the matadorÂ’s espada – the audience had clamored for the matador to spare the bullÂ’s life. The bull christened Aventador got no such reprieve, killed by Matador Emilio Munoz during a bullfight in 1993 in Zaragoza. Aventador did, though, fight fiercely enough to earn the accolade Trofeo de la Pena La Madronera, awarded to the bravest bull by ZaragosaÂ’s only female bullfighting club, La Madronera. Then someone cut off one of AventadorÂ’s ears and gave it to Munoz as a trophy. The Lamborghini Aventador, over a run of nine years and going, has fought just as bravely as its namesake and deserves the same trophy. It also – as much as it pains me to write this – deserves to be put to rest. The looks of the 2020 Lamborghini Aventador S Roadster donÂ’t disappoint. Despite the name changes since Marcelo GandiniÂ’s 1974 Countach, LamborghiniÂ’s flagship has largely been an acolyte of the Porsche 911 school of evolutionary design. Nevertheless, every one of the AventadorÂ’s angled, unsparing lines acts like an arrestor cable on passers-by. Long, low, wide in front, and swelling to a carrier-esque beam in the rear, the Aventador is the kind of ruthless transport weÂ’d expect from Cyberdyne Systems or the Weyland-Yutani Corporation – no trace of weakness in it, nor any compassion. Breathtaking instead of beautiful. The only respite from the malice of the test car was in its color, Blu Cephus Pearl. A vivacious neighbor, as soon as she saw the car, christened it Deja Blue. That took some edge off the menace. Almost everything in the cabin is tailored excellence. The look and feel of the stitched leather, the seats, the craftsmanship, all could have come from an Italian atelier – and essentially, for any whoÂ’ve seen the leather shop at SantÂ’Agata Bolognese, they did. The compact cabin provides room for 6-footers; the seats provide continent-crossing comfort.

Supercar parade entering highway is mesmerizing

In what must have looked and sounded to motorists on the M6 like an invasion of The Swarm, a parade of 50 enthusiast gems leaving a charity event were caught shooting down the on-ramp and merging into traffic. There were plenty of Porsches joining the 959 and Ducktail above, Aston Martins going back to the badboy V8 of the last millennium, a Ferrari Testarossa, a TVR and numerous other Easter eggs.
There were not, however, plenty of turn signals, with someone counting just five among the fifty engaging in proper use of the blinker. One reason put forth for that is the same reason we're posting this video, which is from last Summer, below: "because supercar." Enjoy.