2006 Lamborghini Gallardo Spyder. Yellow Over Black. E-gear. Carbon Fiber. 9,952 on 2040-cars

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VW makes $23K on every Porsche sold, more than Bentley or Lamborghini

It's a good time to be in the luxury car business. In Volkswagen Group's financial report for the 2013 fiscal year, it is revealed that that Porsche enjoyed an operating margin of 18 percent. That means the Stuttgart brand made on average about $23,200 per car sold, according to BusinessWeek. Bentley wasn't far behind, and Audi (which was combined with Lamborghini) posted a 10.1 percent margin. This compares to only around 2.9 percent for the Volkswagen brand.
"Luxury brands are on fire," said Dave Sullivan, an industry analyst at AutoPacific. He said that the average profit margin is between six and eight percent. Brands like Porsche and Bentley have the benefit of competing in rarefied markets. Buyers looking at one their vehicles have fewer models to shop against and don't care as much about price. They can also charge more for options, which further boosts income, according to BusinessWeek.
In a way, we should be more impressed by the continued success from Audi. Its models generally have direct competitors in every segment from the other premium automakers. Plus, their buyers aren't the captains of industry who are shopping for a Bentley. Still, the Four Rings is leading rivals in sales so far this year.

The Lamborghini Urus is the ultimate super-SUV, and you can win one here

Autoblog may receive a share from purchases made via links on this page. Pricing and availability are subject to change. No donation or payment is necessary to enter or win this sweepstakes. See official rules on Omaze. The stats: 641 horsepower. 0–60 in just over 3 seconds. A top speed of 190 miles per hour. All of those sound impressive in a performance car, but in a five-seat SUV, theyÂ’re bonkers. That kind of performance is what you get when youÂ’re behind the wheel of the 2021 Lamborghini Urus. Normally one of these super-SUVs will cost you right around a quarter of a million dollars, but for those of us who donÂ’t have that kind of cash, just head on over to Omaze, where theyÂ’re giving away a Urus, along with $20,000 in cash, with all taxes and delivery fees covered. Win a 2021 Lamborghini Urus and $20,000 - Enter at Omaze HereÂ’s what we said about the Urus when we first got behind the wheel: “With a full day of track, street and dirt driving ahead of us, our first impressions arrive hard and fast at the 2.54-mile Vallelunga circuit near Rome. It feels strange to sit behind the wheel of a Lamborghini with a turbocharged V8 and room for five, but the whip-like acceleration from a standstill leaves you neck-strained and satisfied. This thing is wickedly quick, with a claimed 0-to-62-mph time of 3.6 seconds. It might be quicker than that in the real world. That's speedier than a Gallardo, which isn't saddled with a 4,843-pound curb weight. Drop the car's numerical mass from your mind, and Urus also feels shockingly nimble in corners. Aided by active roll stabilization, an air suspension system that can lower the car up to 1.6 inches, active damping, torque vectoring, and sticky Pirelli Corsa rubber, the Urus manages to dance its way breezily through corners despite its relative heft. The standard 10-piston carbon ceramic brakes deliver phenomenal stopping power, though it sometimes felt like there was some additional brake assist that was boosting the slowdown efforts, making it difficult to finely modulate brake release during corner entry. “Dip the throttle and 641 horsepower and 627 pound-feet of torque gets laid down with a whole lot of help from the computers; there are some tight corners at Vallelunga that would have yielded understeer from a more analog vehicle, but the Urus's all-wheel drive, four-wheel steering and torque vectoring enable a point-and-shoot approach at the track.

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.