Lamborghini Huracan 2015 Review

As we roll up to the Arthur's Seat carpark overlooking Port Phillip Bay, the sun's journey towards the horizon almost over, people stop and stare.

Cars cruise past the parked Lamborghini Huracan and most of them slow down, some of them almost stack straight into the Armco as drivers' heads lock onto the Italian exotic like a laser-guided missile… It doesn't help that there's a red Aventador here too.

The sight of a brand-new Lamborghini, and particularly this striking Huracan with its sinister matte black exterior finish does funny things to people.

"Can I take photo?" asks one lady as three cars scramble to squeeze into the last car park spot as we gear up to shoot more video, selfie sticks everywhere.

People pile out of vans, pointing and gasping as though the Holy Spirit has coalesced into vehicular form, the gorgeous mid-winter sunset over the bay adding to the splendour.

"Course you can," I respond out the window, chomping on a muesli bar.

Stepping out of the low-slung Lamborghini coupe for the final shot, I feel like a movie star. I've discovered a bounce in my step. I'm standing straighter, puffing my chest out!

And it's at that moment, right there, that I truly understand why exotic cars like these are exceptional.

It's the way they make you feel, as the driver, and the way they make everyone lose their marbles, as spectators.

Okay, so they're expensive to buy and own, they chew through tyres and fuel with a zeal matched only by Matt Preston at a Masterchef cook-off, rearward vision is poor and luggage space is trifling.

But all that ceases to matter when you're in the moment driving this car. Even in heavy traffic, plodding along, listening to AM talkback radio, you feel like a superstar.

A lowly motoring writer the author may be, with a penchant for limericks and a passion (but lack of understanding) for quantum cosmology. But when I drive the Lamborghini Huracan I'm transformed into the absurdly handsome love-child of Robert Downey Jr and Brad Pitt.

At least that's how I feel.

Bald? Just put on some sunnies and stand next to the Huracan. Fat? Kick a tyre and now you're hunky. Smelly? Sit in this Italian stallion and your stench becomes a heady musk!

And I refuse to digress, because a big part of owning – or even considering to purchase – a machine like this is based entirely on emotion. Financially cars like this make little sense. The Huracan is prohibitively expensive at around $430,000 – before on-road costs are added – but make no mistake, it's an intoxicating experience in more ways than one.

Once strapped into the contoured sports seats, the polygonal interior design makes your eyes purr, but is intuitive as it is mesmerising. After poking and prodding a few buttons and giggling like a school kid, it's time to flip up the military-inspired safety catch and hit the engine ignite button.

The 5.2-litre naturally-aspirated V10 may have Audi DNA running through its valves, but it fires up with a glorious cacophony that is very un-German.

Belting out 448kW and 560Nm of torque, the all-wheel drive Lambo rips from 0-100km/h in just 3.2 seconds and though I'm loathe to use launch control on public roads too often, even standard launches leave me breathless. The car's AWD grip and tractable engine propel it forward with an almost animal ferocity.

Fast cars squeeze you into your seat under wide open throttle – this one forcibly pushes into the seatbacks! It's compelling.

And the sound from those quad exhaust tips? Divine. The gravelly idle builds in volume and pitch as the digital (and customisable) tachometer needle passes 4000rpm, ending in an upsurge of resonance as it nears 7000rpm onto its 8000rpm-plus redline, only to crackle and belch momentarily; an aural alert perhaps? Yep, the gearbox has harvested another ratio.

Speaking of which, the seven-speed dual-clutch gearbox, or ‘Doppio Frizione’ in Lambo-lingo, is a pearler. It snaps through gears in milliseconds at full tilt yet is a docile, quiet and smooth unit when required… But more on that later.

Guiding the Italian machine through a corner is an exercise in elation, the Huracan's front end predictable and indeed more forgiving than some supercars. It may not be as razor sharp at the limit as some of its contemporaries on a racetrack but on the road it's got more grip and generates more corner speed than most people will ever need or want.

Gently feeding in power exiting corners is hugely satisfying. Even a little squirt is fun and despite being AWD this baby bull will happily and progressively wag its tail out of tighter hairpins.

Yet for all its performance, the Huracan has a milder side; this is one sophisticated Italian.

It all comes down a little switch on the steering wheel that toggles through road, sport and race settings, which adjust stability control, gearbox, and throttle sensitivity, but also the suspension settings.

So when you're bumbling around on surfaces other than billiard-smooth racetracks, like in this Lamborghini Huracan review, the 'relaxed' setting is a godsend, with no sphincter-puckering moments as you negotiate great big gouges in the road. Indeed, ride quality is surprisingly good, comparatively speaking.

That it can change from rigid apex predator to benevolent urban cruiser at the touch of a button is a huge boon and there's even a button to lift the front end to avoid scraping it at the KFC drive-through. And other carparks found at similar fine-dining restaurants.

A rather docile car at slow speeds (not too loud either) the Huracan has enough flexibility to be used as a daily driver, despite being overly wide, annoying to park and with enough luggage space for a toothpick.

It's true that the Porsche 911 is sometimes labelled the 'everyday supercar' but it's a tag-line the Huracan seems intent on pilfering – whether by design or fluke.

Every bit as involving on the road as the race track, the Huracan is a marvellously balanced high-performance machine with a flexibility, an elasticity that makes it approachable and easy to drive.

"Does it feel good to drive?" asks a bloke who's toddler is scrutinising the car between his legs, grinning from ear to ear as we're packing up our gear to head home for the day.

I hunker down into the seat, fire up the raucous engine and roll down the window.

"Like you wouldn't believe," I smile, feeling remarkably energised despite a long day, as mind, body and soul revel in the moment.

Read the Lamborghini Aventador review