0-62MPH: 3.2 secs
Top speed: 202mph
CO2 G/KM: 280g/km
MPG combined: 22.6mpg
Like many men with children, I aspire to be a ‘cool dad’. I foist my musical choices on my children (“This album got five stars in Mojo!”), still wear trainers at every opportunity and insist on dancing at weddings. My efforts are usually met with total indifference, and occasionally with outright scorn. But for one day a few weeks ago, I was the coolest dad on the block.
I’ve successfully brainwashed my son Thomas into liking cars, so when luck threw me the keys to a Lamborghini Huracan, I decided to collect him from school in it. Pulling up outside the classroom at 3pm, the car was immediately swamped by five-year-olds peering, prodding and asking “How fast is it?” Nothing draws a crowd like a buttercup yellow Lamborghini. Thomas loved it.
Over several days with the Huracan, this level of attention became the norm. Everwhere I went, heads turned and camera-phones pointed.
Because not only does Lamborghini’s junior supercar look like a jet fighter, it sounds like one, too. Its 610hp V10 – shared with the Audi R8 – is naturally aspirated, meaning there are no turbochargers to stifle the soundtrack. Select maximumattack ‘Corsa’ mode and it howls like an old F1 car, the exhausts spitting and popping with a ferocity that’s downright antisocial.
Find the right road and the Huracan is intense and intoxcating. Its steering is direct and its mid-engined chassis feels beautifully balanced. Purist drivers may prefer to save £26,000 and opt for the two wheel-drive LP5802, but this four wheel-drive LP 6104 (a snip at £181,895) would be my choice. Its excellent traction and stability inspire confidence when you unleash that tsunami of V10 fury.
Fortunately, the Huracan isn’t simply a one-trick bull. Switch to Strada (road) mode, leave the twin-clutch gearbox in auto and you’ll discover a car that’s surprisingly easy to drive. The suspension is softer than some hot hatches and you can cruise on the motorway in comfort.
In the city, that trademark louvred rear window restricts visibility, making the reversing camera and parking sensors essential options (£2,940 for the pair). And you’d be wise to spend £5,148 on the front-lift kit, as the Huracan doesn’t like speed bumps. At least width restrictors aren’t a worry – unlike in Lamborghini’s larger Aventador.
You wouldn’t call the Huracan practical, though. Its front ‘boot’ is big enough for a couple of overnight bags and there’s a narrow shelf behind the two seats, but that’s your lot. A Porsche 911 offers far more space.
And while official fuel economy is 22.6mpg, I managed more like 15mpg. Factor in £1,120 car tax in the first year (£515 a year thereafter) and servicing costs every 12 months or 9,000 miles, and you will need deep pockets – ‘junior’ Lamborghini or not. At least a generous four-year, unlimitedmileage warranty eases the pain.
The Huracan faces some daunting opposition, not least from its much cheaper Audi R8 sibling. For us, the Ferrari 488 GTB just edges it as the king of the current sub-£200,000 super-car crop. But you can’t judge cars like these in rational terms. They’re designed to stir the soul – not do the school run. And if the unashamedly extrovert charms of the Huracan appeal, you won’t be disappointed.
Me? I loved every minute with it, but was also glad to hand it back. Being able to pop to Tesco without trending on Twitter has its perks. Besides, by the time Thomas gets to secondary school and becomes a jaded teenager, I doubt even a yellow Lamborghini will make me Daddy Cool. Probably quite the opposite, in fact.