Lamborghini Murcielago: PH Heroes
Just because it's a hero doesn't mean it has to be a good guy, right?
Me? I try to quit while I'm ahead. That's why back in May 2004 I didn't want to drive a Lamborghini Murcielago. Re-reading that last sentence is particularly painful for me today, but back when I was 24 I was convinced driving the V12 Lamborghini monster would do little for my road test education.
I was also scared. Not of me killing myself in it. But as a child I had, along with Ferrari, built up Lamborghini in my mind as something that simply couldn't be bettered. It was my automotive nirvana but, as with any kid, as I grew up I had my ideals kicked out of me by a succession of drives in disappointing cars.
I began to suspect if I ever did get to drive in a Diablo SV (lime green with SV decals please) it would probably be a hot, steaming pile of dog turd. And then the Gallardo came into my life.
Just MTFU
Mentally preparing myself for it to be terrible, just to avoid disappointment, I was instantly blown away by its ability and performance.
In a blink of an eye the 500hp V10 Gallardo torched my performance benchmarks. Where a Ferrari 360 Modena continually felt on a knife-edge, the Gallardo blew me away with its sheer usability. It was the fastest car I had ever driven. I was smitten.
And there was the Murcielago with its silly scissor doors, ludicrous footprint and zero rear visibility. I know it sounds churlish, but even with 580hp I wasn't impressed. I was more shocked that it weighed well over 350kg more than the Gallardo, which by now I was convinced was the future. End of.
But fate intervened and back in 2004 on a stint working for Motor magazine in Australia the option of not driving the Murcielago was taken from me after we had the bright idea of comparing it to its smaller brother. This involved a city-based photoshoot that included, among others, a shoot in Sydney's seedy red light district and, later on, a faked police stop that had been arranged with the city cops.
Whoop-whoop
This was the second occasion I'd spent time with Gallardo and spent all morning relishing in its abilities but, just as the rain arrived, now it was my time to swap into the bigger V12.
If I'm honest I couldn't tell you if it was tugging the door closed or listening to the most exotic-sounding starter motor I'd ever heard that set the scene for what was about to happen, but it was definitely the explosion of hydrocarbons behind my left ear that rocked me to my core.
In any case, there was no hanging around. My friend, let's call him Deano, was already in the Gallardo and had bolted off in attack mode.
Selecting first using a proper manual gearbox felt almost quaint after the Gallardo's e-gear automated 'box. The heavy clutch, meanwhile, made it feel like my old Land Rover. In a typical display of my driving talent (see here) I punched the throttle to rein in the Gallardo. No useful acceleration occurred. Instead, four wide 18-inch wheels spun its tyres up in unison, followed by a jerk left and a bigger jerk right following a clumsy overcorrection. "Nice work Mahoney," I whimpered wondering why the ESP was so late to the party.
Snatching second I was having serious second thoughts. By third gear I was seduced by the heavy open-gated manual, by fourth it was the V12 that had stolen my heart. By fifth I was on my way to jail if I was caught. Could I keep up with the Gallardo? Could I hell. Could I care less? Not at all. After the third unintentional power slide on the now sodden Sydney streets I held the throttle open and had moment of holding the Murcielago at what felt like an impossible drift angle. It was magical and I was a Murcielago disciple and still am today, because like most great things they improved throughout their lifespan.
Best for last
Today it's the LP640 that I'd have, even over the final SV. Legend has it, the LP640 update to the Murcielago was completely unplanned after a senior Lamborghini boss (probably from Lamborghini's parent, Audi) said the 6.2-litre version was the absolute limit for the ancient V12 (that began life back in 1967 in the Miura) and that it must be retired immediately.
'Impossible' isn't really part of the Italian psyche. Witness a Roman squeezing a Fiat 500 into a parking spot the size of a Smart. To most people, it's not possible. For the Italian it's a challenge and one he must complete, even if it means sacrificing his and his fellow parker's paintjobs.
To produce 640hp from the geriatric V12, the lump had to be stretched to 6.5-litres and this required a new crank, new heads and a completely revised intake system. Finally the cooling system was revised and a completely new exhaust added. No fewer than four different all-new ECUs were in charge.
Bigger, better, faster, more
The result was a masterpiece. Where the previous twelve-banger was limited to a (still ludicrous) 7,800rpm, the new even bigger V12 spun up to 8,100rpm. With a generous kerbweight of 1,850kg, that meant the LP640 cold smash the 0-62mph dash in just 3.4 seconds and eventually hit 210mph when the rev-limiter called time in sixth.
Drive it today and it's a far quieter than the first-gen Murcielago V12 with less of the violent fizz the first car pumped into the cabin. The LP640 also has a more civilised ride, with less fight from the dampers when the road gets rough. But before you begin to think the LP640 had gone soft. Don't. Wake up that V12 and it screams. Windows down and you'll be the one screaming expletives the first time you light the afterburners, although, it does actually need 6,000rpm before it feels monumentally fast.
Perhaps the best bit about the LP640 is the bits they couldn't fix. It remains a proper old-school supercar. It takes up far too much space, is intimidating as ever, has zero rear visibility and is hopelessly impractical and, let's say, challenging to drive quickly. At which point back to the story.
What goes on tour
The copy of Motor magazine June 2004 didn't run any shots of the second part of our shoot - the shot of both the Gallardo and Murcielago being pulled. For good reason.
When we arrived the chief constable begged us for a ride in the Murcielago.
"I'd better do this one," said Deano. Now Deano was one of those who had the talent but not the money to get into F1. In other words he was seriously handy behind the wheel. Unfortunately, for him and the cop, this meant he'd had frequent dealings with his NSW traffic colleagues and developed a love-hate relationship. Who am I kidding? He hated their guts.
Today was payback. Especially when the cop told Deano to "give it death."
Deano obliged and we were all treated to the old V12 at full song as it screamed up the road. 10 minutes later they were back. Scissor door swung open, cop fell out, almost on his knees. His face was white. He said nothing and stumbled away to part company with dinner. Laughing, I popped round to congratulate Deano on his act of revenge, except Deano was almost as bad as the cop.
It then it struck me. Cars like the Murcielago are never truly beaten or mastered and that's part of the reason they truly are supercars and why it's the Murcielago and not the Gallardo that is worthier of PH Hero status.
LAMBORGHINI MURCIELAGO LP640-4
Engine: 6,496cc V12
Transmission: 6-speed manual/6-speed automated manual, four-wheel drive
Power (hp): 640hp@8,000rpm
Torque (lb ft): 487@6,000rpm
0-60mph: 3.4 sec
Top speed: 211mph
Weight: 1,665kg (dry)
On sale: 2006-2011
Price new (2006): £190,000
Price now: c. £125,000
The featured car is for sale with Tom Hartley (and not driven by John or Deano) - our thanks to them for supplying it for the photos
Photos: Tom Begley
This story has underlined that and, come the glorious morning when I get an email asking me to contact the National Lottery, the car above (or something very like it) will be right at the top of my shopping list. Lovely.
And also the rwd part. But anyway it fulfills my requirements in a supercar: Absurdly fast, hideously impractical, definitely scary.
I think a supercar should moisturize its owner underwear half because pleasure and half because fear every single time it is used. They are a kind of object the reason cannot explain, so they better remain in the emotional side of life.
As a humble mortal, I would love to be able to buy a corvette c6 z07 someday in the future. They picture it as incredibly scary too, but as an american spports car I expect it to be more reasonable to run than an italian mid-engined v12 (which is the definition of ph-heaven as we know it).
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