Hurricane watch: Lamborghini Huracan Sterrato

Clambering into the Lamborghini Huracan Sterrato, my old friend had one question and one observation, both as indicative of him as of the car. Can of water in hand (he is unconventional), he asked: “Where’s the cup holder?” A fair question in most circumstances, but not when we’re in what is still, albeit coming towards the end of an illustrious career, one of the world’s great compact supercars.

Positioned below both the outgoing V12 Aventador and the just-released Revuelto, the V10 Huracan is about the same size as a family estate, shares much of its technology with the accomplished Audi R8, and as you can see from the images of my matt-finished burnt tangerine version, has a certain exuberant Italian bespoke style.

open image in gallery

The mystical quality is that it inspires affection, even love, rather than envy. My neighbour warned me that people had keyed a camper van along the road, and that envy is a terrible thing. Agreed, but all the Huracan Sterrato ever did was keep me busy accommodating all the requests for selfies. I think Lamborghini owes me some commission.

Anyway, I digress. There aren’t any cup holders, obviously, but there is, just, room for a slightly arthritic 6ft 4in man, which is an achievement for all concerned. Just the two seats, though, and there are only so many concessions Lamborghini will make to its basic mission in life. There is no electric seat adjustment, and not much of a glove box either.

open image in gallery

Actually, come to think of it, there are no indicator or wiper stalks, because they’d get in the way of the gear-shift paddles that frame the steering wheel; you have to make do with a couple of switches on the wheel itself (fine except when you’re on a long corner).

It’s all about saving on weight, which is also why most of this purposeful, burbling, thoroughly planted machine is fabricated from carbon fibre and aluminium. It’s got rear drive, all-wheel steering, three gyroscopes, and seven gears acting through a dual-shift gearbox (and responds with rather more alacrity than some of VW Group’s more popular products – which proves it can be done).

open image in gallery

It will do 200mph, whether the law permits or not, and it will hit 60mph in a few seconds. It’s far, far faster than most mortals need, but fairly disciplined with it. You have a choice of three driving modes – “Strada”, for shopping; “Sport” for the open road; and “Rally”, for going into rally-stage light off-roading.

“Sterrato” is Italian for “dirt track”, and this variant of the Huracan is basically the product of some bored Italian engineers settling a bet. The side effects are very welcome; another couple of inches means it can cope with speed bumps, and the ride is surprisingly comfortable. It nudges its nose, but no more, into Grand Tourer territory.

It can be docile. On a Sunday afternoon blast through Leicestershire, the Lamborghini, with the angry bull badge on its nose, found itself in the company of some rather more docile cattle. Most Lamborghinis get named after fighting bulls, and “Huracan”, or Hurricane, was one that made a name for itself in around 1879.

Surrounded by its distant bovine relatives approaching a village cricket game somewhere near Gumley, the Huracan was content to amble along at 4mph and then wait for the next over. There was no crowd trouble.

open image in gallery

It’s really an incredibly engaging car, in every sense, and the roof rack they fitted to my test example added a touch of humour to the half-hearted off-road look – plastic cladding, extra spotlights, and that slightly higher stance. The lights actually look a bit like the flared nostrils of a bull about to gore some arrogant matador.

I’m getting carried away. The Sterrato is kidding no one, but with its still peerless combination of dramatic lines, symphonic soundtrack, and loud, loud, loud presence, it hardly needs to prove anything. It’s no joke, but the Lamborghini Huracan Sterrato has a nice, cheeky sense of humour. Hence the roof rack. Quite loveable.