Lamborghini: Diablo 1998 on 2040-cars

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Dax Shephard, Lamborghini Super Trofeo racer?

Dax Shepard is no Paul Newman, nor even Patrick Dempsey, but he has a pretty cool gig mixed with plenty of acting and racing. While you might know him from Hollywood comedies like Employee of the Month and Hit & Run, the Michigan native now seems to be dabbling in road racing after competing in the Lamborghini Blancpain Super Trofeo North America, and to celebrate, Lamborghini has issued a new short video introducing Shepard and kicking off its new pro-am racing series.
Like many kids of the '70s and early '80s, Shepard's love of cars can be traced back to a Lamborghini Countach, and, fittingly, his first time road racing in a car happened to be in a Lamborghini - an experience he comically suggests would be like another sort of "first time" with Selma Hayek. In addition a few chuckles, the video posted below also gives us some of our first racing footage of the Super Trofeo North America's opening weekend at Lime Rock in early July, in which Shepard grabbed a third-place finish.

Lamborghini Huracan Super Trofeo makes official debut at the Quail

Racing fans, meet Lamborghini's newest track weapon, the Huracán LP620-2 Super Trofeo. Designed for the one-make Blancpain Super Trofeo series, the Huracán picks up where its predecessor, the Gallardo, left off.
Its engine bay is home to a ten-cylinder, much like the road-going Huracán. Unlike the coupe, the racer boasts 620 horsepower, up just ten ponies from the LP610-4. But - and as buts go, this is a big one - the Super Trofeo tips the scales at just 2,800 pounds, nearly 400 pounds less than the standard model, thanks to the removal of the all-wheel-drive system. That's right, this Lambo sends its power to the rear wheels.
Aside from the single drive axle, Lamborghini has upgraded the car's aerodynamics, offering gentlemen racers the option of ten different settings for the rear wing, as well as new front and rear diffusers and adjustable front air intakes. Lambo has also fitted specially formatted Pirelli race rubber, and gotten development help from the racing gurus at Dallara Engineering.

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.