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Time to catch up with Jay Leno's Garage, including his Lamborghini Espada restoration

If you're already jealous of the time, effort and money that Jay Leno can devote to his massive car collection, prepare to get a little greener with envy with this latest video from Jay Leno's Garage. Instead of the usual format of discussing a model for about ten minutes and then taking it out for a test drive, this week Leno gives viewers on a tour of over a dozen projects concurrently happening in his stable. The breadth of the vehicles shown and the things being done to them run the entire span of the automotive hobby. At the same time, Jay's shop is working on just a simple restoration of his 1969 Lamborghini Espada (pictured), and at the other side of the building, the team is rebuilding a wood-bodied 1914 Detroit Electric from scratch. He eventually plans to slot a more modern electric drivetrain into it. If bikes are more your interest, there's a freshly completed Brough Superior just waiting for a ride, and if American models are your thing, a Ford Bronco is getting a Coyote V8 installed into it. You have some very specific tastes if you can't watch this clip and start wishing at least one of these vehicles could be in your own garage. Other than the personal projects his mechanics are working on in the shop, Jay gets to have them all, plus plenty more.

2015 Lamborghini Hurac?n LP 610-4

We're comfortable ranking the new Lambo with a score of "Monica Bellucci" on the scale of Italian hotness.
We're fresh from the heart of the Lamborghini headquarters in Sant'Agata Bolognese, Italy, where Italian and German executives have been beaming like proud papas in front of their soon-to-debut Huracán LP 610-4. The successor to the ultra-successful Lamborghini Gallardo will have its coming out party at the Geneva Motor Show next week, but there's no need to wait any longer for the details of this hotly anticipated model.

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.