As hinted yesterday, I was part of a fortunate group of attendees invited to Manhattan Motorcars’ exclusive Lamborghini Aventador rooftop launch party. Thanks in no small part to my kickass creative director.
Fashionably late, we pulled up in Wyatt’s Porsche 928, quickly checked in, and sauntered into the showroom’s massive elevator. After a short ride the attendant raised the massive cage door to reveal our evening’s festivities: custom-suited socialites and tightly-wrapped models, hand-rolled cigars and Blancpain watches, five Gallardos, two Murcielagos, and the main event sitting ominously in the midst of it all.
She sat there silently, subtly hinting at her 325lb carbon fiber monocoque, her longitudinal-posterior 690bhp V12, and her jaw-dropping $379,700 price tag. Wasting little time, we made our way through the gathering crowd, acquiring what would best be referred to as a king’s ransom of free libations.
With me in my Gulf Racing jacket and Wyatt in a brown leather bomber, we stood out like a sore thumb, but without the suited camouflage of the rest of the attendees, it wasn’t such a bad thing. We were quickly approached by two young ladies—one blonde midwest type, the other asian and fumbling with her camera phone. I offered to help. As I aimed her Blackberry and she struck her most sultry pose, the music halted and our evening’s host got on the mic, much to her (and my) dismay.
Stumbling through a spec sheet that, for ninety percent of the guests, could have been written in Cryrillic, the direction was given to remove the silken black cover. Awestruck, the crowd audibly gasped—most had never seen or even heard of the Aventador.
With the New York City skyline casting a diffused glow upon the Nero Nemesis matte finish, the Frecci Tricolori-styled LED lamps radiating cool blue up front and searing red out back, and the unmistakeable scissor doors swung open, the Aventador’s New York Shitty debut was nothing if not dramatic.
I had to get closer. Squeezing through the crowd of beautiful people I managed to lower myself into the Aventador’s cockpit imagining my first time in the new bull to be full of amazement. Instead, I was met with slight disappointment. Not because it wasn’t cool, but maybe because it was too cool. There’s so much going on, so many buttons, and too many goddamn angular surfaces.
But I digress, it’s a complaint I could definitely live with. I mean, it’s a Lamborghini for fuck’s sake. Of course I’d manage to live with it. And so would you.
A big thanks to Wyatt, Kleinfeld Men, Blancpain, and Manhattan Motorcars.
