Performance is close to McLaren F1 territory, but the handling wins special respect.

hen I arrive at the test track in northern Italy where Lamborghini has chosen to launch the Murcielago to the world’s press, there’s hardly a soul in sight. A couple of people in yellow Lamborghini shirts mosey around the sleepy courtyard while someone on a company tractor chugs past, oblivious of the fact that a complete stranger has just driven up in a battered rent-a-heap.

But, out of sight somewhere, the quaint atmosphere is soon shattered by the inimitable wheeze of an Italian starter motor turning, then igniting a big V12 engine. Moments later colleague Peter Robinson drives into view with the Murcielago’s door up, wearing a huge grin. Then comes staff writer Colin Goodwin in a Diablo, also with the door ajar and also sporting a twisted smirk, followed by a red Countach with owner Simon Fowler at the controls. And I think to myself: yep, this is going to be one of those days. I t’s genuinely hard to describe how much more dramatic and beautiful the Murcielago looks in the raw than it does in photographs. I remember being in the Autocar office when the first official pictures appeared, and thinking how wrong it looked at the time, especially at the back.

But the moment I see the Murcielago with my own eyes - painted in the most perfect colour I’ve ever seen on a Lamborghini, with the exception of the lime green Miura that appeared outside my pre-prep school one afternoon to collect a girl I fancied rotten but never actually summoned the courage to talk to - all the shapes and sharp edges suddenly make sense. In bright orange the effect is mesmerising, much more breathtaking than either of its predecessors. Which is saying something.

But then I’m not here just to look today, I’m here to drive. And to put you, the Autocar India reader, behind the wheel of the first all-new Lamborghini since the Diablo of 1990. Time to ask Mr Robinson if he wouldn’t mind handing me the keys for an hour or two methinks.

Performance is close to McLaren F1 territory, but the handling wins special respect.

The first thing I notice, long before climbing aboard the Murcielago, is its door handle. It’s a fiddly little thing you press down on at one end to release a lever at the other, which you then pull to activate the mechanism and unlock the door. It’s not the most glamorous introduction to the world’s newest supercar experience, but then the handle does sit flush to the body when not in use, to reduce drag. Which is a reasonably key design priority on a 205mph/328kph car.

Once released, the vast door swings up and away on its gas-damped struts to reveal an interior that looks both bigger and much more coherent than of old. Climbing in is the same as it ever was: you vault across the wide sill with one hand on the door and another on the roof, then simply freefall down and across into the deep bucket seat.