CHANGE ISN'T THE ENEMY

I was in California not long ago with Lamborghini for the launch of the new Temerario. A car that, before anyone had even driven it, had already divided the internet.

Because Lamborghini did something people thought they never would.

They retired the V10.

For decades, that engine wasn't just a powertrain. It was part of the brand's identity. Loud. Naturally aspirated. Mechanical in a way that felt almost alive. If you've ever heard one scream through a tunnel, you know exactly what I mean.

Now it's gone.

In its place? A hybrid twin-turbo V8.

On paper, that sounds like compromise.

In reality, it isn't.

THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN NOSTALGIA AND PROGRESS

There's something fascinating about the way people react to change.

We often judge new things before we've experienced them.
We confuse different with worse.

I understand it. We build emotional connections to things. To cameras. Cities. Restaurants. Cars. Creative tools. Even versions of ourselves.

When something changes, it can feel like we're losing something.

But after driving the new car, I realized something almost immediately.
It still felt unmistakably Lamborghini.

The acceleration is absurd. The drama is still there. The theatre. The emotion.

The soul survived.

The engine changed.

The philosophy didn't.

That's a much harder thing to preserve.

FIVE YEARS DISAPPEAR QUICKLY

The cars were only part of the weekend.

The people mattered more.

Jack picked me up from the airport.

The last time we saw each other was five years ago.

Five years.

That's long enough for entire chapters of life to happen. Careers change. Relationships change. People move across the world. You become someone new without really noticing.

Jack and I met almost a decade ago.
Back then we were climbing mountains before sunrise, freezing in the middle of nowhere, chasing landscapes because we loved photography more than comfort.

Now we're driving supercars down the California coast.
Different setting.
Same friendship.

There's something comforting about that.

WHEN DID YOU BECOME WHO YOU ARE NOW?

During dinner I started asking everyone the same question.

"How do you think you've changed?"

Nobody had a clean answer.

Because change rarely announces itself.

Nobody wakes up one morning and says, Today I'll become a different person. Instead it happens quietly.

You stop caring about things that once consumed you.
You start protecting your time.
You become more patient.
Or less patient.
You value different conversations.
Different ambitions.
Different people.

It's only when someone asks the question that you realize you've already become someone else.

Rob told me his entire life looks different now.

Tucker laughed and said he's gotten better at work but somehow worse at balancing everything else.

Jack just smiled.

Some changes are easier to feel than explain.

THE PART PEOPLE GET WRONG

We often talk about change like it's failure.

Like leaving an old version behind means abandoning who you really are.
I don't think that's true. The things that are truly authentic don't disappear.

They evolve.

Lamborghini isn't defined by the number of cylinders.

It's defined by obsession.
By refusing to build ordinary cars.
By creating emotion first and specifications second.
That identity survived.

My friends aren't the same people they were ten years ago.

Neither am I.

Hopefully.

Because if ten years pass and nothing changes, what have you actually been doing?
The goal isn't to stay the same.
The goal is to stay true while becoming better.

THE NEXT VERSION

Driving through California, I realized something.

I wasn't spending time with strangers who looked familiar.

I was spending time with exactly who they were always becoming.
The younger versions of us couldn't have predicted where we'd end up.
But somehow the important parts remained untouched.

The curiosity.

The humour.

The willingness to chase something interesting.

Everything else evolved around it.

That's probably what healthy change looks like. Not replacing yourself. Refining yourself.

The internet will always tell you that the old version was better.

Sometimes they're right.

Most of the time, they're just nostalgic.

Because change isn't the threat.
It's simply the next version of something that was already worth believing in.