2003 Lamborghini Murcielago Low Miles Clean Carfax Well on 2040-cars

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Watch the Lamborghini Egoista fire up on stage

Seeing the wild Lamborghini Egoista is one thing, but hearing the single-seat concept car fire to life in all its glory is something entirely different. Visitors at the Lamborghini 50th anniversary celebration in Sant' Agata got that rare opportunity when the Egoista made its presence felt. Nothing says, "I have arrived" quite like a 5.2-liter V10 barking at the crowd. It may not be the prettiest belle at the ball, but it has the pipes to make even the most jaded among us weak in the knees.
You can catch the clip of the machine firing up in the brief (and sadly shaky) video below. We've also included a more polished video recap from the anniversary celebration. Something tells us you don't need a reason to spend a few minutes watching classic Lamborghini models prancing through Italy. You're welcome.

Lamborghini teases engine sound, but of Sesto Elemento or Cabrera?

Lamborghini has launched a website for something it calls the Hexagon Project. The mysterious page asks that you submit your email address, and then it gives you a taste of glorious V10 engine noise, with the message: "Listen to your instinct. Discover the roar of a new creature from Lamborghini. That will be just the beginning."
But where is that wonderful noise going to come from? Since we don't see Lambo launching a front-engined, front-drive minivan in the near future, we're guessing it'll be found in the back of some low-slung, edgy super car.
In our minds, that leaves two candidates. The popular opinion, perpetuated by our friends at Jalopnik, is that this is the engine for Lambo's Gallardo replacement, rumored to be called the Cabrera. This is a sound guess, although the naming of the site, Hexagon Project, makes us think that there's more to it all than just the Cabrera's new engine.

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.