Lamborghini gets a facelift: good, or bad?

2 August, 2016

For me, the later-model Lamborghinis aren’t the most attractive supercars out there. For some, their fighter jet–like appearance has them drooling, but for me, I like my supercars with a more classic shape, resembling Ferraris of the ’80s for example. This is why I find the Mitsubishi GTO and Honda NSX extremely attractive. Call me old-fashioned, if you will. When I heard Lamborghini were releasing a facelift-kit option for their Huracán model, I was curious to see what they came up with. 

Racing stripes, canards, flares, and a rear wing — what were they thinking? They’ve taken a questionable-looking supercar and have turned it into something you’d see in the films of the Fast and the Furious franchise … I’m not sure what Lamborghini is up to, but I’m hoping they sort their act out soon. Ferrari and McLaren are still producing beautiful supercars, and even Audi’s R8 is better looking, which, for a company that doesn’t know what colour is, is saying something! 

What do you think of the new additions to the Lamborghini Huracán? Hit or miss? 

“Gotcha!’’ The continuing tale of a Nissan/Datsun tragic – part two

In 1996, I was on a mission to buy a suitable pavement scorcher and visited the now-defunct Manukau City Car Fair. Unbelievably, among the sea of four-door utilitarian Japanese compacts was the absolute jewel in the crown, my automobile wet dream — a 1985 two-door R30 RS Nissan Skyline FJ20 Turbo five-speed manual in nice condition. The owner wanted $10,000 — a great deal.
But what did I do? I bailed out, paralysed by indecision. The money would have been a stretch, but it was the worst automotive choice I ever made. Instead, I went for a rusty Toyota Sprinter 8 Valve Twin Cam Coupé, which was pretty terminal from the get-go. I know. We’ve all done it, but there was really no excuse for passing up the Skyline, and I was haunted by that for years.

Last Tango in the Fast Lane

In the mid ’80s, I locked into a serious Nissan/Datsun performance obsession. It could have kicked off with my ’82 Datsun Sunny, though this would have been a bit of a stretch of the imagination, given its normally aspirated 1.2-litre motor — not the sort of thing to unleash radical road warrior dreams. But it did plant a seed, and it was a sweet little machine and surprisingly quick, in contrast to all the diabolical English offerings I had endured.
I was living in South Auckland at the time and was an unrepentant petrolhead. Motor racing was my drug of choice, and I followed the scene slavishly. Saloon car racing, with the arrival of the international Group A formula, was having a serious renaissance here and in Australia and Europe. There was suddenly an exotic air in local racing that had been absent for 15 years.
I was transfixed by this new frontier of motor racing that had hit our tracks in 1985–87 and the new array of machinery on display. In 1986, the Nissan Skyline RS DR30 made a blinding impression on me. The Australian Fred Gibson-run, Peter Jackson-sponsored team of George Fury and Glenn Seton were the fastest crew of the 1986 Australian Touring Car Championship. But Kiwi legend Robbie Francevic snuck through to win the Aussie Championship in his Volvo 240T after a strong start and consistent finishes.