Standard, seemingly, is a cabin decorated with Lamborghini’s (relatively recently adopted) flamboyance; as is a generally splendid cabin finish, albeit with a few iffy plastics.
There’s a near-square steering wheel, overburdened with buttons, although this does, I suppose, free space behind it for large, fixed paddles. The paddles, powder-coated aluminium or some such, are good, while the indicator and wiper buttons are more intuitive than those on a Ferrari.
Lamborghini’s ‘anima’ switch, the equivalent of Ferrari’s steering wheel ‘manettino’ (which adjusts throttle response, steering weight and dampers from road through sport to race modes), is too easy to knock into a different setting while you’re turning the wheel.
It might not be, however, if the wheel were just round so you knew where the rim would be. Ditto, of course, if the button were simply elsewhere. Then, too, it might not seem as though Ferrari has been benchmarked in a slightly un-Lamborghini way.
Also Ferrari-esque is the electrically assisted steering’s lightness at low speeds, and its two-turns-between-locks quickness. I’m not sure if that’s a result of benchmarking (if so, a McLaren 650S would have been a better reference), but it makes the four-wheel-drive Lamborghini agile at first, if a touch disconnected. It’s joined by a ride that is firm but not brittle – at least in the damper’s soft mode.
Up the speed, and the steering assumes a little more weight, a little less keenness, but decent accuracy and good eye for the straight-ahead.
There’s a fair degree of road noise, and a lot of mechanical engine clatter – although neither is unwelcome in a hard-edged supercar – but thanks to a powerful stereo and an 80-litre fuel tank, the Huracán makes a surprisingly accomplished daily driver. Not as much as a McLaren 650S, but still, Lamborghini admits it’s attempting to broaden the Huracán’s remit over the Gallardo. It has.
The question is, of course, whether pandering to a large market gets in the way of the purity for the enthusiast. The most recent Gallardos I drove have all been Superleggeras, and next to those, the Huracán feels less purposeful. That’s not because it lacks drama. Far from it.
Put your toe in, and induction and exhaust noises overwhelm chain and cam ones, and the engine fairly comes alive. The gearshift is superb, too, and there’s pop and crackle on the overrun. This is a world-class powertrain.
The shell feels stiff, too, and in any chassis setting the Huracán corners with extraordinary flatness and huge ability. It doesn’t pummel the road like a Nissan GT-R, but I’d be surprised if it covered ground any less quickly.
Grip levels and traction are of the highest order. Approach their limit and, while not feeding a great deal back through the rim, the Huracán will nudge towards a touch of understeer on a very well-sighted low-speed bend.
On the road, that’s your lot, which is just as well, because you wouldn’t want any more drama than that, given the speed you’d have to be going.
On track, then? I’m still not sure. A few runs didn’t reveal a great deal of adjustability, even in the wet. But maybe that’s no surprise. There’s 42 per cent weight over the front, limited body movement under braking, so very little weight balance transfer, while the front tyres are 245 section to the rears’ 305, and the front track is marginally wider than the rear.