Written by Freddy “Tavarish” Hernandez and published by Haggerty Supercar ownership ain’t what it used to be. Pop open any social media app and you'll be thrust into a sea of barely-post-pubescent man-children braying about how getting their sparkly one-off Ferrari three weeks out of high school was a result of 49 percent “rising”, 49 percent “grinding”, and… two percent having a semi-absent dad who served as lead counsel for ExxonMobil. The doe-eyed, car-curious youth out there will be forgiven for thinking that not only are luxury, sports and exotic cars incredibly easy to attain, and the hardest thing about living with them is picking the color of the next one. To remedy this, I've decided to inject a bit of gritty realism into the automotive landscape by purchasing and attempting to restore what is undoubtedly the worst running, cheapest, and most haggard example of Lamborghini 12-cylinder Murcielago supercar in the world. As a cherry on top of this rusty and oversprayed sundae, this particular automotive nugget was screen used in The Fate Of The Furious, a movie that made more money at the box office than the annual GDP of Antigua. And I'd be doing everything on a budget. By myself. For those of you who are new to my automotive mishaps and occasional triumphs, I run a YouTube channel that seeks to teach people about interesting cars they wouldn't otherwise see, from a frugal do-it-yourselfer's perspective. I do this by hoarding the kinds of supercars that wouldn't fit in at buy-here-pay-here lot, much less a squeaky clean Instagram influencer's “paid partnership” story. My current fleet includes: a barely-running Bentley Continental GT that spent the better part of a decade in Russia illegally a 163,000 mile, 600 horsepower Mercedes-Benz S-Class that I drive every day a Lamborghini Gallardo that suffered a small fire in its past a Ferrari F355 that suffered a large fire in its past and a mid-90s Toyota Supra that gets challenged to multiple street races daily, despite making all of 120 horsepower at the rear wheels. The new-to-me Murcielago, however, was quite different than my usual fare of neglected exotica—this time, the automotive butchery was performed on purpose. To illustrate my point, I'll recall the entire sketchy story of how I bought this car, second in sketchiness to the car itself. Several months ago,...