ROME—This being a Latin country, we begin in media res: Somewhere between Turn Soratti and Turn Roma on the Autodromo Vallelunga, a charming little racetrack/killing field where Lamborghini has chosen to stage the media premiere of its new $400,000, V12-powered, all-wheel-drive supercar, the Aventador LP700-4. Cordite, lakes of fire, tower flybys, the sound of cats being shoveled into a furnace. You get the idea.
It's a lovely day. At the moment I'm making a slight left-hand turn over a low brow of asphalt in 3rd gear, well in excess of 100 mph, with the afterburners on. Dis car, she's a prestissimo, all right. With the pushrod, inboard suspension, body roll is beyond minimal. I'm tightly belted into the recumbent driver's seat, but the escalating lateral g-forces are sloshing my organs around like squid in a cooler.The wick is turned up, which is to say, the car's dynamics system is set to "Corsa," or "Race" (the more relaxed driving modes are "Strada" and "Sport"). In Corsa mode, the car's slew of computers permit significant rear slip angle; direct most of the 509 pound-feet of torque to the rear wheels through the Haldex center diff; quicken the steering and the shift-response of the seven-speed automated manual. The Aventador can accelerate from a dead stop to 186 mph in 24 seconds so, you know, respect.And yet, nothing overly dramatic here, no I-see-Vishnu moment. The Aventador is settled, sorted, safe, predictable, progressive…. I'm sorry. I was told there would be Lamborghinis.As the animated-graphics tach needle sweeps toward the 8,500-rpm redline and it sounds like something tender is well and truly caught in the wringer, I grab for 4th gear. POW!
What is an Aventador? Well, first you must understand Lamborghini's product strategy. The bank is in the company's collection of mid-engine, all-wheel-drive, V10-powered berlinettas and spyders, the Gallardo line. It's widely expected that the company will also soon offer a four-seater, perhaps a latter-day Espada, and/or a four-door.But the company's halo cars are its nutty, narcissistic, testosterone-addled V12-powered starships. To name them since the 1970s: Countach, Diablo and Murcielago. The car the Aventador replaces, the Murcielago, set the modern standard for dysfunctional supercar love: ferocious, belt-high, chthonic, a car so pagan you should use a reindeer cape as a car cover.
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