Woman Maths: Lamborghini Aventador

Firstly, the Aventador LP700-4 is bad at doing quite a lot of things at which cars are supposed to be good. It also appears in TV shows about the ‘manosphere’, driven by men with large white teeth shouting about Bitcoin. Some people think it is the epitome of cool; others dismiss it as trying too hard.

It is both of those things, but also something else. The Top Dead Centre podcast joked that you love the Lamborghini you grew up with. There’s no denying its poster-car appeal, but what really sold Thomas on it goes back to his early car-spotting days with @TFJJ, aka Freddie Atkins – the golden era of spotting. When they both should have been studying, they were out checking car parks. Sorry, guys, you know it’s true.

In 2015, nothing terrorised Knightsbridge, or delighted the boys more, than the Aventador. A decade and a million car spots later, Fred now owns one too. ‘It was always a good spotting day when you saw an Aventador.’ The noise, flames and striking colours made it an instant Instagram event. In some small way, the car helped pay for itself.

We are all currently away together for work, and Fred has just uttered the words: ‘I can’t wait to get back to the Aventador.’ He is more excited by it than he was about his very first special car, a Rosso Vinaccia Ferrari 458 Italia. Arguably a better car all round.

Post-bath, Thomas collected the car and drove it back in rush-hour traffic from somewhere near Heathrow to Tring. I could hear it a full 15 minutes before I saw it. It was so obnoxiously loud that every curtain twitched as it passed, and by the time it reached the house, my next door neighbour Bev was waiting with me.

We might be among the few Lamborghini owners to have made their car less loud, refitting the factory exhaust. We also swapped in a set of surprisingly pretty silver wheels, repainted the front, and had the whole car PPF’d. After that came a major service and a visit to Flat Six Jack, former Lamborghini technician, friend, and general guru. Ts crossed, Is dotted.

So, what changed my opinion? It has less than nothing to do with the recent surge in values.

Late last year, I went on a driving holiday to Porto with a gang of my car-spotting friends. Within the group: Porsche Cayman GT4s, Boxster Spyders and 911 Turbos, new BMW M2s and M3s, the 458, an Aston Martin DBS, Mercedes-AMG A35, and the Satsuma, as I have affectionately named the Aventador. I’d say every single car was better at negotiating the winding Portuguese roads than the wide, powerful Satsuma. But it was that trip that changed my entire view of the car… despite boiling the brakes.

Up until then, I had consigned it to the ‘attractive but useless’ category. Quite honestly, the only thing I enjoyed while driving it was how incredibly hot the heated seats got. The clunky robotised gearbox, extremely firm ride, and its sheer value to my little family made it impossible to relax into. I also didn’t like the attention, which is a problem.

That was until I found the joy in it.

The moment the tyres hit the buttery-smooth Portuguese motorway, I was lost. Hard sunshine glittered across the paintwork, the wheels clawing at the road as the engine forced the car through space and time. You can actually feel the clutch hunting for its next gear and slamming into place. It is the most alive I have ever felt in a car.

I felt giddy, filled with wonder and appreciation for this thing that had suddenly revealed its raison d’être, its very meaning. Like a shark, it hunted that motorway. I could almost picture what it looked like from the outside, all purpose and menace.

That moment brought this big, dumb car into focus for me. It clarified its intent; it made it more beautiful somehow. Andrew often says that a good car knows its purpose, whatever that may be. The Aventador’s purpose has never been clearer.

It hunts.