The Huracán’s chassis is a different sort
of hybrid to the sort we usually read about. Carbon-fibre-reinforced plastic
(CFRP) is used in the passenger cell, forming part of the floor, the sills,
central tunnel, rear bulkhead and B-pillars. Lamborghini has long extolled the
virtues of resin transfer moulding (RTM) to create these parts, with safety,
structural and weight benefits. As a result, the chassis weighs 200kg – the car
is 1,532kg all-up – and torsional rigidity is 50 per cent better than the
Gallardo managed. The front and rear subframes are aluminium, with double
wishbones on all four corners, made of forged aluminium. There are electronic
dampers and anti-roll bars. Magnetic ride is an option, as is active steering.
The Huracán is clever and civilised, on a par in the tech arms race that, more
than ever, defines the sector. Now the search is on for its personality.
Ceramic
brakes now standard. Front discs measure 380 mm
This might sound a bit daft for a 603bhp
mid-engined Italian supercar extrovert whose main job is to blow your socks off
from 100ft away, but it only truly comes alive when you really start pushing
it. Peeling off the motorway for an epic sunrise photo, I chance upon the sort
of road you could spend your whole life looking for. The Huracán, it turns out,
has almost fathomless depths, a holy trinity of engine, ’box and chassis.
Open the taps, and there’s no more white
noise from the 5.2-litre V10. Now, we’ve got the full Pantone spectrum. It’s
also naturally aspirated, so there’s beautifully metered throttle response and
an irresistible sense of free-breathing forward momentum. The engine feels like
a power unit in the purest sense, a prime example of semi-industrial hardware
that somehow conjures music out of its forged pistons, connecting rods and
aluminium-silicon crank. A dual-injection system – one operates at low revs,
the other under bigger throttle loads – and a new two-channel exhaust with
naughty flaps takes you through a range of sonic possibilities. Between 4,000
and 8,500rpm, it’s angrier than a battle scene in Game of Thrones.
Ten
cylinders, over five litres, and not a turbo in sight
The Huracán definitely does have a
character. Defining it is less straightforward. This is taking longer than I
expected. Tellingly, Lambo lets you play with the car’s personality using a
button on the wheel it calls Anima (Italian for ‘soul’). It networks the
throttle mapping, stability control, dampers, transmission and torque flow
(it’s 30/70 front to rear as standard, but can go 100 per cent to the rear),
spreading the dynamic repertoire across Strada, Sport and Corsa options. It’s
well calibrated, too, and the Huracán feels much better resolved than the
Aventador.
We’re in Sport mode as Granada recedes in
the mirrors, and we begin the 25-mile ascent to Veleta. Four-wheeled traffic is
light, but this is a popular destination with cyclists – in a list of the
world’s toughest climbs, it’s ranked 16th, one behind a route in the Himalayas.
There are sharp second-gear hairpins, but the road opens out into a series of
flowing, higher-speed sweepers, with perfect sight lines. It means that we can
co-exist with our masochistic friends.
Aircraft-inspired
switchgear still looks great inside
The Huracán warps from corner to corner in
a way that seems to defy time itself. Key to this is its Lamborghini Doppia
Frizione seven-speed dual-clutch transmission, which is vastly smoother than
the Gallardo’s uncouth e-gear system, while still giving you some sense of the
furious kinetic forces at work. The carbon-ceramic brakes are also superb,
combining awesome retardation with the perfect amount of pedal feel – not
something that everyone manages. Our world has recently been redefined by
Ferrari, McLaren and Porsche, but objectively speaking it’s difficult to
imagine needing – or wanting – more than this.
The Huracán uses aviation-tech
accelerometers and gyros in its chassis’ electronics armoury, and its balance –
the interplay between suspension, steering and brakes – is so impressive that
its limits (on a bone-dry mountain pass, at least) are beyond reach. Clichéd or
not, the Huracán might be too good. After half a dozen photography runs, I wish
it would… lighten up a bit. Let itself go.
Shielded
switchgear adds to the sense of occasion
Then I realise what this car reminds me of.
It’s not the 458 or 650S. It’s the Bugatti Veyron, and the more earthbound but
still astonishing Nissan GT-R. Both are engineering milestones, machines of
uncommon quality, ability and inspiration. But they’re machines. As with human
beings, great cars are often defined as much by their flaws as the things
they’re masterful at. That’s practically been Lamborghini’s USP this past 50
years. The Huracán, it’s worth remembering, is the first volley in a whole
series of derivatives, and on this basis the Superleggera will be absolutely
mighty. Right now, this is unequivocally the best car Lamborghini has ever
made. But I’m not sure it’s the best Lamborghini.
