BBC Top Gear Magazine

Noisy neighbour

- Ollie Marriage

ALamborghi­ni Huracán turned up to... well a good notch above the Performant­e. The new STO (Super Trofeo Omologata) claims to take the road-going Lambo experience a step closer to the GT3 racer – its first car, it claims, where track ability takes precedence over road driving. Pushed further than the Aventador SVJ, in a bid to tackle rivals such as McLaren’s 620R or 765LT, the AMG GT Black Series and whatever Ferrari chooses to name the inevitable hardcore version of the 296 GTB.

As far as numbers go, the STO’s engine struggles to hold its head up in that company. The 631bhp 5.2-litre V10 is unmodified from the Performant­e, but makes up in sheer ferocity, volume and 8,500rpm drama what it lacks in power. But then the alteration­s, most notably the removal of the front driveshaft­s to make the STO a pure rear-drive car. That’s only saved 20kg of the 43kg total drop, with 8kg reinserted by the new four-wheel-steering system, designed to enhance agility.

The aero, as you can see, has moved on more. And not subtly. Lambo says downforce is up 53 per cent compared with the Performant­e, which developed 350kg at 186mph. Interestin­gly, Lambo has abandoned the ALA technology that ingested air at the base of the rear spoiler’s pillars and blew it out along the trailing edge. This is a simpler strategy: a manually adjustable, three position rear wing. Then there’s fins on the flanks, vents over wheels and a gaping roof duct which isn’t – as you’d assume – an intake for the engine. Instead it simply ducts cooling air down into the bay. Sorry Lamborghin­i, but that one’s a gimmick.

It does have a boot though. The one-piece front end (cofango in Lambo terminolog­y) hinges forward to reveal a 38-litre area that will just about swallow a helmet. Elsewhere the tracks have been widened, there’s stiffer suspension bushes, new anti-roll bars and two-stage magnetic ride dampers. The brakes are Brembo’s CCM-R set-up, claimed to give a 25 per cent power increase. Sharp at the top of their travel, they’re fantastica­lly effective and fade free, at their best when worked hard.

And the same is true of the rest of it. The last car I drove on-road that constantly bombarded me with as many racecar signals was the McLaren Senna. If you buy one of these and drive it on-road, well, best of luck to you. There’s loads of road and tyre noise, the suspension is very stiff at low speeds and unsettled on roads that are only moderately uneven. It’s raucous and distracted, shows no willingnes­s whatsoever to bow to your demands, and doesn’t have the compliance and smoothness of our favourite Huracán, the Evo RWD.

The flip side is that it is a more serious and circuit-capable bit of kit than any Lamborghin­i

I can remember driving. Better balanced than the Aventador SVJ, purer than a Performant­e, it’s very communicat­ive through the suspension and chassis and although the variable ratio steering doesn’t have bundles of natural feedback, there’s so little suspension movement that you feel directly connected to the crisp edge of the front tyres. It constantly reminds you of its potential, makes you aware of how much more it can do and – crucially – makes you really want to exploit that. The STO goads you. It’s not a car that feels disgruntle­d and unhappy on the road, so much as one eager to prove it could be having an even better time if only you’d open the taps.

And when you do, it drips lava in your ears. The V10, now with new Akrapovič exhaust, is the highlight of this car, every bit as dramatic as the bodywork (anyone else picking up some hints of Sesto Elemento?). But actually it’s too loud. When the exhaust baffles open at 4,700rpm you wince, aware that a) everyone within a mile radius knows exactly what’s going on or b) you’re about to get kicked off your track day. Trumpeting magnificen­ce, but also rather obnoxious.

Accept that and you’ll love it – the instant response, the anticipati­on of what’s coming, the howl, the excitement, the revs, the fury

– it still has the ability to turn an adult into a child. The twin-clutch gearbox does the job cleanly and well, the one element of the car that behaves itself immaculate­ly at low speed.

There’s a lot going on at the back axle what with the rear-steer as well, but the way the STO gets its power through the mechanical differenti­al is impressive. It’ll only squirm and fidget if the road is rough, but otherwise the suspension supports the traction very well. It helps if you’re going fast, though. The STO needs some speed before the suspension wakes up and is interested in helping out, it needs that level of downforce or movement to get some compressio­n into the springs. Oh, and never use Trofeo mode on the road.

Lambo has clearly realised building a race rep is good business. The options charged for stickers, carbon, paint, extinguish­ers and all the rest are sky high. Lessons learned from McLaren and Ferrari there, and elsewhere too. The STO fulfils Lamborghin­i’s ambitions for it – this is a car that wants to be on track, that feels like a racer, albeit one with the heavy dose of charisma that makes a Lamborghin­i what it is. But don’t let that drama, stridency and raucousnes­s deceive you. Underneath, the Huracán STO really knows its way around a circuit. If you don’t take yours on track, then you’re missing the point.

“THE HOWL, THE REVS, THE FURY – IT STILL HAS THE ABILITY TO TURN AN ADULT INTO A CHILD”

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 ??  ?? Did someone say 5.2-litre V10? Can’t hear you over the epic Akrapovič exhaust...
Did someone say 5.2-litre V10? Can’t hear you over the epic Akrapovič exhaust...
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