No matter how much Lamborghini improves its cars–no matter how much weight it shaves or power it adds, how many gearbox and suspension refinements it conjures–you do not drive Sant’Agata’s machines. You live them.
Even in cash-rich Las Vegas, where self-indulgent excess vibrates like neon along the Strip, the new Gallardo LP560-4 draws exclamations. Its low-slung body, with Reventón-like pointed snout and clean rear-end treatment, draws gawks and whistles. Women swoon. Coyotes howl. Four dentally challenged locals in a battered pickup call out for a stoplight race. Everyone seems impressed.