I followed the above pictured Lamborghini Huracán on my daily commute this morning. It’s clearly brand new and was being driven in the manner of somebody who had a new toy and wanted to play with it. That’s cool, who wouldn’t want to do that? But it was also being driven very badly, in the manner of somebody with scant experience of this kind of machinery.
You know the form; frequent jabs on the throttle, even when stuck in 30mph traffic. Sudden bursts of acceleration but then very early and nervously on the brakes, and making his overtake just as a school bus came heading towards him. If I was to hazard a guess I’d say this was somebody’s first supercar.
So the next question is, now you’ve got your Lambo, where do you go from here?

I’m in the lucky position that I occasionally get to drive things way off my ownership feasibility radar. When I know that I have an interesting ride on the horizon I’m typically feverish with anticipation for weeks up to the event. When it happens, that drive will catalyse a chemical high which temporarily changes me like a partial lobotomy. From this state of detached reality the come down is cruel and hard, but it’s the slow cycle of normality punctuated by occasional euphoria which makes writing about cars such an addictive hobby.
I reckon these moments of ecstasy are supposed to be brief. Even the best roller-coaster becomes nauseous if it lasts much more than a few minutes, and I’m pretty sure that sustaining an orgasm 24/7 would kill me before very long at all, too.
I pity Mr Huracán driver. I watch the weekly supercar-fest of Top Gear from the perspective of somebody who might, one day, drive a Huracán once, if I’m extremely lucky. It’s something to live in hope for. As soon as my finances reach such a point as to make ownership of a Lamborghini a realistic proposition, I run the very real risk of my daily Huracán drive becoming a mundane, forgettable activity. This means having to begin the quest once again and aim for the next step up the ladder. The Lamborghini Huracán is, I’m told, far from the greatest of thrill providers. So, with £150k invested this poor chap is nowhere near. He might as well not have bothered.

In relative terms, a Huracán can be afforded by a pauper. There are people out there, though, for whom the decision of McLaren P1 or LaFerrari isn’t even a question. Just buy both and save time thinking about it. And that’s it. You have bought the best the world has to offer.
These things are supposed to be anticipated. Waiting with desperate expectancy is where most of the fun is. If you have immediate access to the best of everything, where can you go once you’ve reached The Ultimate, aside from waiting with an open chequebook for the next zenith of human engineering achievement to turn up?
Or is that when you sit upon your porcelain throne, your laptop logged onto Craigslist, seeking the 2003 Kia Rio so you can experience how the other half live?