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Taxi! Lamborghini Huracan granted cab license in the UK

If you've ever thought cab rides take forever, this could be a solution: The Wolverhampton City Council just granted a taxi license to a company offering rides in an eye-searingly green Lamborghini Huracan. The supercar is the first of its kind to get such a license in the United Kingdom. The company keeping the Huracan, Special Wedding Cars, has used a white 2005 Gallardo for special occasions, as well as London taxis and doubledecker buses. But the cab license issued for the Huracan means it can be used for any journey. The Huracan can top 200 miles per hour, but even when stuck in traffic, it's a better place to spend time than any old Ford with a tree-shaped air freshener and vinyl seat covers. The Huracan would need a bunch of fare stickers and some decorative dents to make it fit in with the rest of the taxi cab fleet. Related Video: News Source: The Birmingham MailImage Credit: Special Wedding Cars Auto News Humor Lamborghini Supercars huracan

Blue Lamborghini Aventador flamb'ees eyeballs on New York City school run

Regardless of how unsure we are of the back story in this video, we don't doubt how cool it would be to get picked up from [insert place here] in a Lamborghini Aventador. In this case, the driver says he picks up his former neighbor's daughter from New York-area high school in an Aventador, and with most of us heading to the Big Apple tomorrow for the New York Auto Show, we're wondering if this guy might be available to shuttle us from the airport to the hotel. It never hurts to ask.
After picking her up, they then head for a quick tour of Times Square with a trio of GoPro cameras recording the whole thing... missing out on a great opportunity to catch about five minutes of Aventador exhaust note, the video, for some reason, pipes in some awful background music. What is entertaining are the reactions that people have to seeing the car - whether from kids or adults - as the car has a magnificently beautiful Azure Blue paint job.
Scroll down to watch the video, but beware, there is some foul language involved.

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.