The bull may be the animal associated with Sant’Agata’s finest but I’ve always thought of the Aventador in more reptilian terms. Since the flagship Lamborghini’s launch in 2012, this apex predator’s angular body panels – a motif carried through to the interior – and huge 6,5-litre, naturally aspirated V12 engine were more akin to a scaled branch of the evolutionary tree that predates those grass-eating mammals by millennia and is inherently more vicious.
And the vicious streak runs deep in the Aventador’s DNA; from the Countach to the Diablo and Murciélago, a deep-seated desire to frighten and maim has been part and parcel of the breed’s legend. As supercars have become more approachable, with engine capacities and cylinders making way for whistling turbos and whining electric motors, the Aventador has stood out like a big, angry dinosaur hatched from the same clutch that spawned Godzilla. The big Lambo was never a car in which you could pootle down to the shops, a trait both it and its handlers were only too proud of.
You can read up to 3 premium stories before you subscribe to Magzter GOLD
Log in, if you are already a subscriber
Get unlimited access to thousands of curated premium stories, newspapers and 5,000+ magazines
READ THE ENTIRE ISSUE