The sick thing about the latest, greatest Gallardo is that you’d have as much fun thrashing it down your favorite road as you would sitting in a closed garage and kicking the throttle. If cleanliness is next to Godliness, the LP560-4 makes the single filthiest noise I’ve ever heard. That’s what you get when ten cylinders and forty valves are all exploding 142 times per second twelve-inches from your neck. Utterly devilish. Here’s one for your bucket list: driving this raging bull through a tunnel with the windows down and the tach pegged at eight grand. Even I’m jealous of me.
There’s a new button that reads “Corsa” and it happens to be best of all because gears get swapped via angry gunpowder. BANG! I say, BANG! Don’t believe me? My driving companion got whiplash. Corsa’s that wonderfully violent.
Back to acceleration. We found a very straight and even emptier stretch of road to “test” Corsa. Up until this point we’d been going relatively easy on our borrowed $222k Italian plaything. Not here. I activated Corsa, deactivated the ESP and by mashing the gas pedal inadvertently activated launch mode where the $20k optional carbon ceramic brakes hold the car until the revs hit 5,000. Then sheer lunacy broke loose. Honestly, NASA could learn a thing or two about defeating inertia from this Gallardo. The combination of the skin being tugged from your skull and Satan’s trumpet blasting your ear acts as an adrenaline pump. It’s physically addictive.
Source: The Truth About Cars