1994 Lamborghini Diablo Vt Low Miles / Only 6,756 Miles Or 10,873 Kilometers on 2040-cars

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Admire 350 Lamborghinis lined up at 50th Anniversary Tour

If you're a fan of Lamborghini then you'll want to set aside 13 minutes of your time for this video. The Sant' Agata carmaker is hosting a 50th Anniversary Tour from Milan to Rome and then back up to the factory in Bologna, and the 350 entries in this running of the bulls were staged on a Milan street. YouTube user Shmee150 is with the convoy and he spent the aforementioned 13 minutes walking among the field of glory that spans models from 1963 to now.
None of the cars were running so the video lacks the audio thrill of the supercars merging onto the M6 in the UK. As a virtual tour of Italian art museum showcasing a massive outdoor exhibit of Lamborghinis, however, it can't be beat. Don't hesitate to check out the video below.

Deadmau5 orders Nyanborghini Purracan to replace departed Purrari

EDM DJ and producer Deadmau5 is unusual among car collectors for a few reasons, like the fact that the Canadian native didn't get his driver's license until he was 32 - about two years ago and well into fame - so his first car was a Porsche 911 Carrera RS. Elsewise, his garage contains a BAC Mono, a McLaren P1 and 650S, a Range Rover, a "custom Jeep Rubicon with an SRT engine and big suspension," and a daily driver Bentley Continental GT Supersports. There is also that controversial and now-unwrapped Ferrari 458, the Nyancat Purrari with custom badging that so incensed Ferrari they sent him a cease-and-desist letter. After the kerfuffle, Nissan teased Deadmau5 with the idea of a Nyancat GT-R, but the musician has tweeted the the replacement is going to be a Lamborghini Huracan called, naturally, the Nyanborghini Purracan. Deadmau5 tweeted the delivery date is in May, so all you other Toronto-ites, you have until summer to prepare yourselves for this guy patrolling the streets. Oh, Canada... News Source: Deadmau5 via Twitter [1], [2], Jalopnik Celebrities Design/Style Lamborghini Coupe Luxury Performance Supercars

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.