Driving the Original Supercar

One day back in 2002 I found myself riding along in the 1967 Lamborghini Miura that was fresh off winning three awards at the prestigious Concorso Italiano, including the coveted Best In Show trophy.  Just being in the presence of such an automotive icon was overwhelming–after all, the word “supercar” was invented specifically to describe the Miura’s extreme performance and head-turning looks.

My Nixon-era childhood dreams about driving one became reality when the owner decided that I simply could not properly write about a Miura without grabbing its reigns. Doing a Chinese fire-drill around the waist-high car, I slid into the driver’s seat and assumed the traditional Italian driving position, which with knees up at my ears and arms extended was more of a porn pose than an ergonomic arrangement.  The fact that the car was designed for short guys in size-seven Ferragamos rather than Nike-wearing 6′ 4" fellas didn’t help. Continue reading…

Excitement turned to panic when the owner explained that the starter had crapped-out, meaning if I stalled it, it would be tow-truck-city. Being floor hinged, the pedals were tough to articulate, but after a moment of prayer to the automotive gods I let out slightly on the clutch and pressed gently on the accelerator… and the Miura went in motion!

There was no better sound than that of the large Webber carburetors sucking air and throwing fuel into twelve-cylinder engine at wide-open-throttle just inches behind my cranium. It was a mechanical symphony indescribable with onomatopoeia. Instead of a big block Corvette-like rocket launch, the Miura delivered smooth and endless acceleration. Unfortunately, the long lever, complicated linkage and metal gate made shifting slow and tough to master.

The Miura’s steering gave better feedback than a Stratocaster plugged into a maxed-out Marshall stack. There was little body roll in corners, but that weight behind my head reminded me of the car’s legendary scary at-limit handling.

Our imagination would have us believe dream cars are perfect, but like all automobiles, the Miura wasn’t without fault. Still, its gorgeous body, amazing performance and sexy voice were–and continue to be–the stuff that dreams are made of.