On May 7th 2013, Milan’s ancient streets echoed to the sound of Lamborghini. The piazza that wraps around the city’s imposing castle, which would normally hum with battle-scarred hatchbacks and tourist-laden coaches, instead reverberated to the cacophony of 300 thoroughbreds. Locals crowded the barriers to drink in the spectacle and cheer every engine blare while Milan’s historic landmarks hardly drew a glance. 50 years ago to the day, a wealthy tractor manufacturer had officially registered Automobili Ferruccio Lamborghini.
You don't see this every day...
The Grande Giro was the main event in Lamborghini’s
50th anniversary
celebrations. Owners from around the world had been invited to participate, many driving to the start point in Milan, others having had their cars shipped across from as far afield as New York and Hong Kong. No fewer than 70 cars made the journey from Britain to join the 700-mile stampede to Sant’Agata via Rome, among them a barely run-in
Aventador Roadster
. For two glorious days, it was my car.
The celebrations began in earnest on the morning of the 8th, with all manner of Lamborghinis passing over the start line at one-minute intervals. Gallardos sandwiched Miuras, Murcielagos jostled for attention with Diablos while Countachs flanked Espadas. Among the wonderful variety ran a common thread; the absolute pride of the owner, be it for a concours 400GT or a bright pink Diablo trimmed with flashing LEDs.
What better way to enjoy the Giro?
At 11:22am I cautiously stroked the Roadster beneath the starting gantry and into the Milanese traffic, trailing a bright orange Aventador. Police outriders cleared the traffic and directed us through junctions. Pedestrians waved so hard that I thought their hands might fly clean off as they shouted “Gas, gas!” As dozens of Lamborghinis charged through the city in a blur of colour, chaos, excitement and whooping I could only make sense of the occasion in the terms of a rare natural phenomenon. Like a terrestrial Halley’s Comet, these bright mechanical beasts emerge and flash by every few decades.
We cleared the city and settled onto the A1. It was an opportunity to take stock and familiarise myself with the big Roadster, to remind myself that despite the police-endorsed madness the rules of the road remained.
Trebbia Valley provided a perfect setting
As the Trebbia River valley grew around us, the roads became more engaging and the Roadster recognised its natural habitat, challenging me to unleash the full 700hp. I failed to reach 8,250rpm, where peak power is made, at the first few attempts because the speed piled on so furiously and the road seemed to narrow so dramatically in response that every nerve and sinew told me to lift. I didn’t have the measure of the Roadster.
Tunnels were similarly alarming; with the cabin open and third gear wound around as far as I dared, the frantic, barking din was so offensive to the ear that my instinct was to make it stop. Lunch in the charming hillside town of Bobbio came as welcome respite.
If I wanted to get on level terms with the Roadster over the following 110 miles to our overnight halt in Forte dei Marmi, the roads leading away from Bobbio were not the right ones. The narrow mountain passes clung on above the river below, barely two lanes wide at points. After a sweaty-palmed 30 miles I stopped in a small town for a breather, at which point the energetic MD of Lamborghini Hong Kong began to pore over the Roadster. He wouldn’t be getting one for a couple of months yet, he explained, and in an instant I had a new passenger.
Roadster generated attention everywhere
The Roadster began to invite me in as the roads opened up and the accessibility of its performance came to the fore. This may be the latest in a glorious line of V12 Lamborghinis, but on those wider roads it wasn’t as intimidating as the reputations of its forebears suggested it might be.
For the final run into Forte dei Marmi I led a convoy of 10 or so modern Lamborghinis along the autostrada. As the road curved left and right I could see them in my mirrors peeping out from behind one another, looking aggressive and almost angry. Through the countless tunnels we’d swap positions to sample free-revving V10 after roaring V12, all dropping a couple of gears and slowing before gunning it.
The next day dawned bright and clear, with 230 miles between us and Rome. After a fleeting drive-by of Pisa – where our £40 million convoy diverted all attention away from the Leaning Tower – we continued southbound along the coast. The highlight of the journey came soon before the lunch stop at a military airbase 100 miles from Rome. I caught a red Countach on a flowing stretch of road and just sat behind it until our halt. The LP5000 looked spectacular, like a child’s vision of a supercar, low and wide and squat with four exhausts poking out like gun barrels. But the sound! The deep, angry machinations grew to a howl higher up the rev range, and on the overrun it would snap and crackle demonically all the way through the corner until the driver got back on the loud pedal. With almost double the power the Roadster could match its pace in sixth and seventh gears, but such was the privilege I just sat in tow for mile after mile. The Aventador seemed refined and civilised in comparison.
For Lambo lovers, there's no better sight
Directing a £300,000 supercar through a Roman rush hour ranks as one of the more stressful motoring experiences of my life. Lanes split and merge without warning or marking, cars and scooters appear from nowhere and no quarter is given. I watched an Aventador get hit from behind and saw a motorbike collide with a 400GT. I counted four Miuras parked by the side of the road, engine covers raised as they boiled in the slow traffic beneath the beating sun.
But the convoy’s drama – which absolutely defines this marque – was met with such passion and enthusiasm as we entered Rome. There was a huge variety of personality types on the Grande Giro, but the owners all shared an appreciation of the sheer theatre of a Lamborghini and it’s something they can’t get anywhere else. Not a single stuff is given for the greater technical and dynamic prowess of a Ferrari or Porsche.
Although the tour continued to Lamborghini’s home at Sant’Agata the following day, it ended for me at Piazza San Pietro overlooking Rome. Just as they had done in Milan and Pisa, the Lamborghinis took centre stage.
Hear from some of the other drivers taking part in the Grande Giro here.