1975 Lamborghini Countach LP400 vs. 1982 Ferrari 512i Berlinetta Boxer

We'd be lying if we told you that we'd slept well the night before. For as long as we can remember, we've had an irrational weakness for the Lamborghini Countach, and here we are about to spend a day not only in the company of the iconic midengine sports car from Lamborghini but also the car's fiercest rival, the Ferrari 512i Berlinetta Boxer.

These are cars that once were simply posters on the bedroom wall to a generation of boys like us, and now we are going to drive them at last.

A Moment in Time
As the early morning mist is burned away by the autumnal sun, we set eyes on the Countach for the first time. It's a 1975 Lamborghini Countach LP400, one of the early periscopo models finished in burnt orange. The 1982 Ferrari 512i Berlinetta Boxer that sits alongside goes practically unnoticed.

Imagine the impact the Countach must have made at the 1971 Geneva Auto Show, where the original, bright-yellow prototype with its 5.0-liter V12 was shown for the very first time. Midengine cars were still new then, yet the Countach showed how far things had already evolved since the Lamborghini Miura first appeared at the 1966 Geneva Auto Show. Curiously, designer Marcello Gandini had done both cars for the Bertone styling house. He finished what Giorgetto Giugiaro had started with the Miura, a traditionally proportioned shape with a long nose and a short rear deck. But then he'd gone for shock and awe for the Countach, as the graceful automotive shapes of the 1960s gave way to radical abstract geometry for the 1970s.

The lengthy Lamborghini V12 engine had been installed fore and aft under the Countach's rear deck and it gave the car unique proportions, wide and low with the cabin perched forward on the nose. Even after the Countach had been rationalized for production, the unique shape didn't seem too compromised by the need for additional cooling ducts. In fact, the air intakes aft of the cabin and the big NACA ducts in the flanks became part of the car's charm. Meanwhile the 5.0-liter version of the Lamborghini V12 (an engine originally designed by Giotto Bizzarrini, who developed the original Ferrari 250 GTO) had been replaced by the Miura's 4.0-liter version.

When the Countach LP400 went on sale in 1974, it launched into the middle of a storm. Demand for supercars had evaporated in the wake of the 1973 energy crisis, with many industry pundits forecasting the death of the specialty motor industry. Stringent air emissions regulations in the United States threatened to close the door to European cars altogether. And Italy's industrial relations were shattered, as frequent strikes plagued the car industry and crippled Lamborghini production at Sant'Agata. As a consequence, Lamborghini lurched from crisis to crisis throughout the strife-torn 1970s, the only constant through it all being the Countach's continued (although sporadic) production.

The Poster on the Wall
The Countach was an elusive presence through the 1970s, as just 394 examples of the LP400 and LP400S were built before the Countach LP500S came on stream in 1982. Nevertheless, the Countach was thought to be the ultimate supercar of the time. Lamborghini boldly claimed a top speed of 195 mph for the car, although no independent road test could ever get close to matching this figure. Given that the Ferrari 365 GT4 Berlinetta Boxer, the Countach's closest rival, was all done at 188 mph (another number never duplicated), this made the Lamborghini supposedly the fastest production car in the world.

In reality, neither the Boxer nor the Countach would go much beyond 170 mph, but this didn't matter one iota. The Countach V12's all-aluminum construction (aluminum blocks were still a novelty then) and DOHC cylinder heads made it high-tech, and it had six two-barrel Weber carburetors, two fuel pumps and even two saddle-type fuel tanks to slake its thirst for fuel. The bottom line was 375 horsepower, quite something when few cars surpassed the 300-hp mark. Under bodywork of aluminum and fiberglass, you found a multi-tubular space frame.

The Reply From Maranello
Some say Ferrari was a late-comer to the production of midengine sports cars, as the engineers at Ferrari (not to mention the Old Man himself) were skeptical about what would happen when one of the company's enormous V12s tried to do business at the back of the car rather than the front. And with the front-engine 365 GTB/4 Daytona such a success with mile-munching playboys and the midengine 246 GTS Dino coming down the line at Fiat in 1968, who's to say that Ferrari needed to respond to the challenge posed by the Miura?

When it was unveiled at the 1971 Turin Auto Show, the 365 GT4 Berlinetta Boxer was a massive departure for midengine cars. First, the BB's body was a master class of subtle beauty, derived from Pininfarina's P6 concept car of 1968. Second, the engine was located longitudinally instead of transversely like the V6-powered Dino. And even the engine itself was unique, a 180-degree, horizontally opposed 12-cylinder engine (not a boxer, technically speaking) slung atop a five-speed gearbox. Ferrari had come to adopt this configuration for its racing cars, and this car adapted the Daytona V12's components for the new layout.

The Boxer had a perimeter frame in the middle that was strengthened by sheet steel with multi-tubular space frames front and rear to locate the suspension and engine. It went into production in 1973, just before the Countach. By the time production of the 512i BB ended in 1984, some 2,323 examples of the Boxer in all its forms had been made. Just slightly more than 2,042 Countachs were made in the same time period before it, too, went out of production.

Paint It Red
The 1982 Ferrari 512i Berlinetta Boxer feels altogether civilized. It's more commodious and luxuriously trimmed than the Lamborghini, while the driving position is less compromised by the need to offset the pedals toward the center of the car in order to let your legs clear the obtrusive front wheelwell. This 1982 Ferrari 512i BB with its period-correct Michelin TRX tires is actually more contemporary with the 1982 Countach LP500S, a car federalized to meet U.S. safety and air emissions regulations.

The throttle is light, so blipping the engine to release the music becomes a naughty pleasure.

Once fired up, the Ferrari's flat-12 sounds delightful. The throttle is light and responsive, and there's little in the way of flywheel effect, so blipping the engine to release that music becomes a bit of a naughty pleasure. It's mighty tractable under way, too. Low-down torque is ample, throttle response is clean and acceleration very strong. It's also a joyous-sounding beast. At low revs it's subdued, but as the speed picks up it emits a spine-tingling scream, especially toward its redline of 6,500 rpm.

The Boxer is poised, too. Although there's been much criticism from seasoned test-drivers about snap oversteer from a center of gravity that's a bit too high (remember, the engine is stacked on top of the transmission), the car proves grippy on the dry roads through the moors and the steering feels communicative besides. The action of the clutch and the shift lever is very heavy, as with all supercars of that era, but the result is a kind of well-engineered character that we enjoy.

Sport of the '70s
The first thing that strikes us about the Countach is its size. When new it was lambasted for its sheer width, but now, mixing with modern traffic, the Countach seems perfect. The driving position is low and reclined, and when you're driving behind the Ferrari, the view is dominated by transmission casing and exhaust pipes since you're so much lower than the Boxer. It's a wonder how taller owners manage, though, as it's all a bit of a squeeze inside.

Starting the Countach is straightforward. Prime the carbs with a stroke of the throttle, turn the starter and let the cylinders cough into life...two, four, six, 12. Now blip the throttle to clear the engine's throat; it is racecar music controlled by the right foot. Sadly, the Countach likes to intimidate you, because all three pedals are heavy, and a quick check of the mirror tells you very little. Whatever, it's time to go.

Given the Lamborghini's legendary reputation, it's tempting to immediately nail the throttle and see how fast the Countach will go, but as crisp and responsive as this particular car sounds, it's best to learn its little foibles before really going for it.

The Music of Speed
With the Countach's tall gearing and cammy power delivery, it's difficult just to drive smoothly. But beyond 3,000 rpm, there's a genuine shove in your back as the power arrives and everything is forgiven. Once the 5,000 rpm barrier is breached, the yowl of the V12 combines with the whine of the transmission to create an operatic soundtrack, while acceleration ramps up to almost savage proportions.

The steering is alive, and when you dive into the corners the Countach feels planted in a reassuring way that minimizes body roll. And for us this is a blessed relief, because it all confirms that the stream of superlatives associated with stories about driving the Countach during the 1970s was completely justified.

As the miles roll by, our confidence in the 1975 Lamborghini Countach LP400 increases to the point where its inherent speed becomes almost a natural state of affairs, and only when we catch other cars does its ground-covering ability become obvious. It's also increasingly difficult to contemplate handing back the keys to its enthusiastic owner.

Wonder where we can get one of those posters for our bedroom wall?

Portions of this content have appeared in foreign print media and are reproduced with permission.