2008 Lamborghini Murcielago 2dr Cpe Lp640 on 2040-cars

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Performance doesn't matter anymore, it's all about the feel

We've just had a week of supercars and high-end EVs revealed. Many of them boast outrageous performance specs. There were multiple vehicles with horsepower in the four-figure range, and not just sports cars, but SUVs with 0-60 mph times under 3.5 seconds. And it's not just a rarified set of supercar builders, comparatively small tuners are also building this stuff. Going fast is easy nowadays and getting easier. So what will distinguish the greats from the wannabes? It's all about how a car feels. This may seem obvious. "Of course it matters that a car should have good steering feel and a playful chassis!" you say. "Why are you being paid for this stuff?" But a lot of automakers have missed the memo. This past week I spent some time in a BMW M4 Competition convertible, and it's a perfect example of prioritizing performance over experience. It boggles my mind how a company can create such dead and disconnected steering; the weight never changes, there's no feel whatsoever. The chassis is inflappable, but to a fault, because it doesn't feel like anything you're doing is difficult or exciting. The car is astoundingly fast and capable, but it feels less like driving a car and more like tapping in a heading on the Enterprise-D. I also happened to drive something of comparable performance that was much more enjoyable: a Mercedes-AMG GT. It was a basic model with the Stealth Edition blackout package, and even though it had a twin-turbo V8 instead of a six-cylinder, it only made 20 more horsepower. The power wasn't the big differentiator, it was (say it with me) the feel. While not the best example, the steering builds resistance as you dial in lock, giving you a better idea of what's happening up front. Pulses and vibrations come back to you as you move over bumpy pavement in corners. The chassis isn't quite as buttoned down, either, providing a little bit of body roll that tells you you're pushing it. It's also easier to feel when the car is wanting to understeer or oversteer, and how your throttle and steering inputs are affecting it. The whole thing is much more involving, exciting and fun. 2021 Mercedes-AMG GT Stealth Edition View 8 Photos That's also to say nothing of the Merc's sounds. That V8 is maybe not the best sounding engine, but its urgent churn through the opened-up exhaust gets your heart racing. It also seems like it's vibrating the whole cabin, so you feel it as much as you hear it.

Lamborghini Accademia at Mazda Raceway Laguna Seca

I found it to be a rare, genuinely rewarding educational experience.
Lamborghini is putting more effort into its North American motorsports efforts and promotion, so we recently attended its first-ever Intensivo driving school at Mazda Raceway Laguna Seca, spending a day behind the wheel of both its Huracán and Aventador supercars. Offered under the Squadra Corse banner, Experienza is designed to provide a taste of Lamborghini's cars on a circuit, Intensivo is designed to maximize track-time learning, and Accademia and Advancada - only in Europe for now - are focused on the driver and driver technique. Beyond those, Squadra Corse can also provide Super Trofeo instruction to get you fit for the Blancpain one-make series and GT3 racing, too.

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.