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Leno's Lamborghini Espada is a freshly restored super-wagon

To give you a sense of why we love Jay Leno, outside of just his taste in cars and ability to preserve so many of them, is that he didn't always have a massive warehouse full of exotics. At one point during his 30-year ownership of this 1969 Lamborghini Espada, it was his only car. Now it has somewhere north of 100k miles on it (he doesn't know exactly because the odometer stopped working at one point – go figure!), and it's still driving great. Leno claims he have it a mechanical refresh about 10 years ago, mostly to clean up some dodgy wiring, and it is fresh out of a cosmetic refresh to address some rust bubbles in the quarters. The V12 is healthy – Leno credits that to letting it warm up before setting off – and it sounds phenomenal. Other than some minor upgrades, like a modern air conditioning system and some added sound insulation, it's mechanically stock. Inside, there's plenty of room for four adults, and Leno's large frame fits just fine in the driver's seat. The Espada set Leno back $26,000 in 1986, when he considered buying a Ferrari 330 GTC. The Ferrari was $2,500 more, so he picked the Lamborghini. Now, that 330 GTC is a $1m+ car, and the Espada? Not so much, although they are appreciating. Don't cry too much for Leno, he turned out all right. Just enjoy the Espada ripping along in sunny California, making all the right noises. Celebrities Lamborghini Wagon Classics Videos Jay Lenos Garage lamborghini espada

2015 Lamborghini Hurac?n LP 610-4

It was probably the best headache I've ever had in my life. A spicy combination of Lamborghini's superlative new 2015 Huracán LP 610-4, fast-as-you-can-drive laps of the tricky Ascari race circuit, 80 kilometers of the Ronda Road and a healthy dose of southern Spanish sun had left me with a bit of a pounder. That cocktail of speed and noise had also granted me one of the best days of driving in my life.
As an encore to Gallardo, the single most successful Lamborghini model in history, and following on the heels of the most profitable era the company has ever known, the stakes for this Huracán could hardly be higher. What's more, considering that stablemate Avendator hasn't exactly come in for universal praise (despite its unquestionable commercial success), I flew to Spain with a small pit of doubt in my generally buoyant heart. Could Huracán possibly let me down?
It could, maybe. But it didn't. This is a car that most assuredly lives up to the hype, and is fully worthy of wearing the crown won for it by the outgoing Gallardo. Sorry for the spoiler.

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.