Murciélago is the Spanish word for bat, and it’s an apt name because the Lamborghini Murciélago goes like a bat out of hell (though in reality, the car is named after a famous 19th century bull which fought with such ferocious and indomitable spirit that it was spared death by the matador). When I had to sell my Lamborghini, I knew only too well what I would be giving up: 6.5 litres and 632 bhp of raw power. The V12 can slam it from 0 to 60 in just 3.3 seconds and its top speed is well over 200 miles per hour.
I decided to buy my Lamborghini when I finally got the job I had always wanted. I’d risen to the top of the finance industry and, with few other major outgoings, decided on something to make me look and feel the part. And it did: the Lamborghini is a car that always turns heads.
The work ethic in my new job was almost as ferocious as the car and I knew I wouldn’t stay for long. Fortunately I had my retirement plans lined up well in advance, but moving to the south of France, for all its benefits, meant I would need to sell my Lamborghini. In the city its fuel efficiency is around 8 mpg; on the open road it’s a shade higher, but I needed something more suited to long distances and day-to-day use. I told myself I could justify keeping it for the occasional outing, but after it had sat in a garage for two months gathering dust, I bit the bullet.
Selling my Lamborghini didn’t take long. I contacted a service specialising in high-end car sales, listed my car with them and sat back. Registration was quick and easy – the work of ten minutes – and my Lamborghini buyer took less than a week to bite. He offered to collect it himself but I had a better idea: one final trip, for old times’ sakes. The fact that he lived in Germany swung it for me; it would be a journey of several hundred miles, a respectable proportion of which I would need to do on Germany’s famous Autobahns. Although the recommended speed for these is around 80 mph, there is no limit. I had always wanted to try it but had never had the time or opportunity before. Now, I couldn’t pass it up. It seemed like the perfect way to say goodbye and sell my Lamborghini in style, not to mention giving it the workout it had been designed for. City living hardly brings out the best in a car like that and I was itching to see what it could really do.
I set out early in the morning, and reached my destination – over 400 miles away – before lunch (which the buyer very thoughtfully provided). When I got there I almost backed out of our agreement and refused to sell my Lamborghini in favour of turning round and driving home again, but good sense prevailed. The return journey, this time in a taxi and on an aeroplane, took almost as long. As I left his house I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy, knowing that he would be able to enjoy the car more than I ever would.
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