[ Lamborghini Countach at 50]
The Lamborghini Countach has lost none of its power to amaze. Today, 50 years on from its release, a drive in the last of the line draws all the threads of this landmark supercar together
The Lamborghini Countach is 50 years old. Half a century. The distance between its arrival and now is the same as that between the Wright Brothers’ first flying machine and the arrival of the swing-wing Grumman Jaguar fighter jet. And yet, after all these intervening years, I’m not sure any road car quite matches a Countach for sheer chill-down-the-spine, did-I-really-just-see-that shock value. Even today, most mid-engined supercars still look like Countach tribute acts to some degree. Build materials may change, performance figures may climb, but these are mere nudges of the dial. A look back through the American motoring press reveals that the muscle cars of the Sixties were the first to be dubbed supercars. Journalists grasped for terms to describe the preceding Miura, plumping for things like ‘dream-car’ (Autocar) and ‘Road-racer’ (Road & Track). But the second they got their hands on the Countach, the word ‘supercar’ truly found its meaning and the Detroit big-blockers were retrospectively remonikered. Everything about it was superlative. Even the name, a Piedmontese expletive with the same root as ‘contagious,’ uttered by a Bertone craftsman upon seeing the completed prototype, according to the car’s designer Marcello Gandini. There was simply no other way to describe it.
This particular Countach plays a unique visual trick as I approach it, ignition key in hand. As a 1990 25th Anniversary, it’s the ultimate Countach – polished, refined, more powerful and advanced than any before it. It may actually be the second-to-last ever built, although the Sant’Agata factory’s build records were notoriously inaccurate back then.
However, that orange hue is pure Seventies. Most 25ths were finished in bold but passé Eighties primary shades, but this one’s then-unfashionable paint is reminiscent of the innards of an Eero Aarnio Globe chair or an early Flymo. The kind of defiantly artificial-looking colour the Seventies decided the future would be finished in. This car’s first owner had an original Countach LP400 in orange and politely requested that the factory finish one of the last for him in a matching colour. In obliging, Lamborghini created something unique. Immediately hidden in a private collection, it first emerged onto the concours scene last year in incredible barely-used condition. Just for today, this – the closest you can get to a brand new Countach – is mine.
Getting in isn’t as difficult as it looks. Negotiating a Lotus Esprit, with its wider sills, is much harder. But
