There are iconic vehicles… after which there’s the Lamborghini Countach.
This wasn’t only a supercar – it was the poster baby of extra, the wedge-shaped fantasy that outlined a era’s concept of pace, energy, and outrageousness. Overlook subtlety – that is Italian aptitude turned as much as 11.
The Miura might have written the primary chapter within the Lamborghini supercar story – with its lengthy lashes and luscious curves – however it was the Countach that threw away the playbook, locked the doorways, and set fireplace to it.
When it broke cowl on the Geneva motor present in 1973, the world collectively gasped. It regarded alien. Sharp. Harmful. Prefer it had crash-landed in Switzerland from some Martian race planet, carrying Gandini’s visionary design like armour.
This was no automotive. This was a revolution on wheels.
So when the possibility got here to drive the last word expression of that icon – the twenty fifth Anniversary Countach, the final and most refined of the breed – and to do it in Italy of all locations, I didn’t hesitate. I packed my driving sneakers earlier than saying sure.
Lamborghini’s revered Polo Storico division – the custodian of the model’s most valuable metallic – had lined up a number of historic bulls for us to pattern. The Countach, naturally, was the crown jewel.
However I’ll be sincere: there was a flicker of apprehension. Left-hand drive, dog-leg gearbox, no driver aids, and a clutch that laughs within the face of your fitness center routine. This isn’t a automotive you merely soar into. It’s a machine you commit to.
Doorways up, ego in.
Simply entering into the Countach is an train in efficiency. With its legendary scissor doorways and mile-wide sills, climbing in is half Cirque du Soleil, half yoga class.
You don’t a lot sit in the Countach as fall into it – knees pointing to the sky, toes shoved deep into the pedal field.
Visibility? Virtually zero. Rearward imaginative and prescient is a joke – therefore the necessity for the basic “sit on the sill and reverse out like a stunt driver” transfer. I used to be mercifully spared the embarrassment, due to some divine intervention (and maybe a fast go to to the Vatican earlier within the journey).
Settle in and also you realise every thing about this automotive was designed to prioritise presence over practicality. The seating place is flat-out weird. You’re almost mendacity down, attempting to succeed in a steering wheel the dimensions of a small pizza and a clutch pedal that might double as a leg press.
There’s no steering wheel rake or attain adjustment – your physique has to adapt to the automotive, not the opposite means round. However that’s the value of entry for Countach greatness.
After which comes the beginning process. Should you suppose that is only a twist-and-go affair, suppose once more.
It is a carb-fed Italian brute with six twin-choke Webers – and so they want gasoline. So that you prime it. And I imply correctly. Pump the throttle prefer it owes you cash. I wasn’t aggressive sufficient the primary time and bought an earful from Pietro, our teacher.
“Pump it! Pump it!” he yelled, flapping his arms like a person attempting to take flight. The gang – a mixture of leathered-up bikers and wide-eyed automotive spotters at Passo della Futa – watched on in amusement.
Finally, it fires. And when it does… mamma mia.
The V12 explodes to life with a bark that might wake gods. This isn’t a well mannered burble – it’s a mechanical snarl, a metallic roar that cuts by the mountain air like a struggle cry.
The 5.2-litre Quattrovalvole engine is pure old-school theatre – 335kW of energy and 500Nm of torque delivered with no filter, no insulation, and no regard on your eardrums. Even at idle, it sounds prefer it’s on the sting of violence.
Choosing first gear takes effort. It is advisable to know precisely what you’re doing. The dog-leg gate, protected by a curious little spring-loaded finger of metallic, calls for consideration and muscle reminiscence. However slot it house, give it some revs, and also you’re off.
The steering? Heavy as hell. There’s no energy help, so at low speeds it’s like wrestling an ox. However when you’re transferring, it’s fantastically direct. Sharp. Fluid.
You possibly can really feel each ripple of the highway by that thick leather-based wheel. And due to the fastidious consideration of Polo Storico’s restoration technicians, it tracks straight and true – extra exact than I ever anticipated from a 35-year-old supercar.
And it’s quick. Shockingly quick.
Even in comparison with right this moment’s neck-snapping EVs and hybrid hypercars, the Countach nonetheless pins you again and calls for respect. There’s no turbo surge – simply linear, razor-sharp supply that responds immediately to your proper foot.
Maintain it between 3000 and 6000rpm and it sings. Push past that, and it screams.
That soundtrack – half indignant chainsaw, half operatic aria – pours from these 4 wonderful exhaust shops on the again. I’m obsessive about them. Not only for the look, however for the sound they conjure. It’s intoxicating.
Each shift is a deliberate act. The throw is lengthy, mechanical, and totally rewarding. You don’t flick by gears. You slam them house.
The clutch is a exercise, however if you nail a downshift with a superbly timed heel-and-toe – it’s automotive nirvana. Nothing synthetic. No filters. Simply uncooked mechanical brilliance.
And but, regardless of its status for being a brute, the Countach surprises. It turns in with poise, holds a line with tenacity, and feels planted even when pushed.
It loves quick, sweeping roads – the sort we present in abundance on this Italian take a look at loop. It communicates always, encouraging you to lean on it, to belief it. It rewards dedication.
At one level, a contemporary 911 in entrance was attempting to movie us, however they had been holding us up. I wished to unleash the Bull, and once they lastly moved over, the Countach was relentless. No hesitation. No drama. Simply grip, grunt, and glory.
Driving the Countach isn’t straightforward, however it’s truly snug, forgiving even.
However none of that issues, as a result of when you’re in sync with it – when you’ve bonded with this snarling wedge of Italian fury – it turns into addictive. It’s visceral. Unfiltered. Actual.
In a world of synthesised engine notes and computer-managed perfection, the Countach reminds you what it means to drive.
And never simply any drive – a drive that leaves your palms sweaty, your coronary heart racing, and your soul totally hooked.
So what’s it like driving a 1990 Lamborghini Countach?
It’s brutal. It’s good. And it’s each childhood dream delivered to life – louder, quicker, and extra wonderful than you ever dared think about.
