700 screamin’ horses in Lamborghini Aventador
Lamborghini Aventador’s 700-hp V12 a frenzied, cacophonous beast
I have an old boxing buddy who, it turns out, is a phenomenal businessman.
And, while I can take some small solace that I could outspar him, he can actually afford to buy the cars that I merely test. In the years I have known him, he’s had everything from Range Rovers to Ferraris and wondered whether there might be a Lambo in his future.
“There is,” I replied, “as long as it’s not the Aventador.” The new Huracán, all German engineering married to more than a facade of Italian passion, would be perfect for him.
Compared with a Huracán, for instance, the Aventador’s transmission — both seven speeds — has a few quirks. But, unlike the Huracán’s slick-shifting dual-clutch manumatic, the Aventador’s transmission is an older, single-clutch affair. So, although it does indeed weigh less and can change gears in an amazingly instantaneous 50 milliseconds, and be more than a little abrupt.
Visibility out the rear window is, in a word, challenging. The rear window is so cluttered with various slats and shutters that the glass might as well be opaque. And at speed, what little view there is, is further diminished when the electronically controlled spoiler deploys.
Lamborghini, ever mindful of modern safety standards, has fitted a rear-view camera front and centre in the Audi-inspired centre console. Nonetheless, on numerous occasions, I resorted to the classic Countach trick of backing up with my butt hanging out on the door sill so I could be sure I wasn’t going to clip the (oh-so-expensive) rear fender.
Those shallow of ego will not be disappointed with Aventador ow nersh ip. Neighbours I swear I didn’t know lived five doors down brought their kids over to ogle the Aventador’s comically sharp angles. A friend’s daughter drove miles just to photograph herself behind the wheel. Aventador ownership is definitely not for the hermit-like.
Even i f they i g nored Aventador’s visual attraction, their ambivalence would stop abruptly as the big 6.5-litre V-12 roars to life. Then, as the cacophony behind your ears explodes and keeps on getting more deafening the closer you get to its 8,500 redline. An Aventador at full chat is exhaust music at its finest.
And, if by some miracle, the Aventador hasn’t yet got your attention, accelerating with throttle pedal pinned and rev counter flailing surely will. At a screaming 8,250 revolutions per minute, there’s a whopping 700 horsepower trying to compress your horizon — enough to accelerate to 100 kilometres an hour in under three seconds, and, given its head, see the silly side of 350 kilometres per hour.
What makes all this Sturm und Drang useful, however, is a chassis that is nothing short of Formula One-like. The entire centre tub is composed completely of carbon fibre. Massive aluminum subframes then bolt onto the tub.
Tying it all together is an all-wheel-drive system and an electronic stability control system that includes a torque vectoring system. So there is absolutely no compromise to the Aventador’s performance.
It is still very much a modernized Countach.
Another bit of typical Italian engineering overkill is the big Lambo’s lubrication system. While a dry-sump system is not unusual in this class of car, the V12’s eight, yes eight, scavenger pumps that return the hot oil to the tank most definitely are. And dissipating all the heat generated by the 700 rompin’, stompin’ horsepower, the Aventador sports both an oil/water and an oil/air cooler to keep oil degradation in check.
And, finally, so all the music from the 12-into-four exhaust can be attenuated for the right circumstance — one must, even in a Lamborghini, be respectful of hospital zones, after all — there’s two separate muffler systems, one high- and another lowvolume, selected according to the drive mode, as well as rpm and throttle position.