2008 Lamborghini Gallardo on 2040-cars

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Aventador gets a split personality in Brooklyn

If you're going to drive a Lamborghini like it's meant to be driven, you'd better make sure there's nothing else around. New York City most definitely does not qualify, as the driver of this white Aventador discovered the hard way.
Caught in motion by two closed-circuit cameras in Mill Basin, this supercar may have been speeding down the road a bit too fast for the driver of a black sedan to see it. The sedan hangs a left right into the Lambo's path, clipping the nose on the sedan and sending the Aventador into the wall. Our take? Both drivers appear to be at fault.
As you can see from the video below and this image on Reddit, the Lambo split in two on impact, but the carbon-fiber monocoque passenger cell stayed intact. The result may look shocking, but no one was reported to be seriously hurt.

Lamborghini makes wise investment, sponsors Italian State Police Sports Association

Boot-shaped shaped Italy has been molded as much by it's Hollywood-fueled history of organized crime, as it has by its footwear-aping borders. One of the more peaceful methods used by that famous mafia is, of course, bribery. While we doubt the Cosa Nostra has planted "made men" in Sant'Agata Bolognese, based on the recent actions of Lamborghini, we do think the company might be bucking for leniency on Italian speeding tickets.
The supercar manufacturer has announced that it will sponsor the Fiamme Oro, the Italian State Police's sports association. Lambo will supply the Italian fuzz's athletes with winter and summer tracksuits, polos, jackets, hats and bags. Collezione Automobili Lamborghini, the company's lifestyle arm, designed the kit, which will feature both the iconic raging bull logo as well as the State Police's logo.
Of course, we jest about Lambo's involvement with the Italian State Police, but this has been a long-running arrangement dating back to the first Gallardo police car, back in 2004. With this new arrangement, and the donation of a new Huracán police car, we feel confident that Lamborghini owners should enjoy free reign on the country's auto stradas.

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.