The sole surviving presentable prototype of the small reborn Countach fleet is a white, wide and wedge-shaped wild thing. Over two years old now, it has 40,840 clicks on the clock, rattles and squeaks freely when it feels like it, and likes to wear its battle scars collected at the ‘Ring and on the Nardo high-speed oval with casually touched up pride.
Parked next to the grotesquely over-spoilered 25th anniversary original, the 2022 version exudes a totally different type of timely cool, symbolises priceless laidback grandezza and oozes Italianitá.
Based on the discontinued Aventador, the eye-catching LPI (Longitudinale Posteriore Ibrido) limbo dancer from Sant’Agata Bolognese is definitely not another loud batmobile with Supertrofeo overtones but pays homage instead to Marcello Gandini’s drop-dead beautiful bedroom poster favourite from the early ’80s.
Unlike the brand’s more recent one- and few-offs like the aggressively extrovert Egoista, Veneno and Centenario, the comeback Countach is all about style, substance and understated sex appeal. Its awesome proportions are bound to arouse every single dormant macho neuron of the bedazzled beholder.
Lower than the Huracan Spyder by 40mm, even wider than the Urus and 440mm longer than an Audi R8, the LPI 800-4 shatters the generic sportscar mould. Only the 2700mm wheelbase follows a less extreme dimensional pattern.
The flush rectangular headlamps, hexagonal windscreen, louvred backlight, periscope-inspired roof-mounted air intake and the trademark wheel arches are among the most obvious visual tributes to the puristic namesake. There is no doubt about it: Mitja Borkert, head of Lamborghini Design, created a striking yet beautifully balanced sportscar that is neither overtly retro nor as eccentric as a Sian or Essenza.
Driving chassis number zero out of 112 is in more ways than one a back-to-the-future experience. The swan-wing doors, the familiar roofline and the massive lateral air intakes all shout Aventador, garnished with a dash of Murcielago and a whiff of Diablo, which was also penned by Gandini.
Tall people may need a can of rust-loosening spray or two to prepare their limbs for the challenging entry and exit procedure, but once the low-mounted carbonfibre bucket seat grabs your hips like a soft clamp and long legs can unravel in the deep but narrow footwell, creature comfort and confidence increase with every breath.
No, this driver environment is not nearly as compromised as it appeared from above. There is actually plenty of room for shoulders and elbows, half a curler clearance between scalp and ceiling, pedals and steering wheel in the correct position. Are we ready to lift the red metal flap and unleash the devil inside?
At the first roundabout, still in second gear, the lead car turns left and heads for the hills toward Pavullo, which actually is Ferrari test drivers’ heartland, but so what? Although the road out west is bumpy, the Lambo wastes no time playing Pacman with the flock of Stilos, Puntos, Bravos and Cinquecentos.
With 582kW on tap at 8500rpm and 25 spare electric kilowatts waiting in the wings, the flatfish on V12 steroids exits the odd holding pattern as smoothly as it morphs into and out of e-boost assistance mode. In this car, 50km/h feels like barely moving at all, 100km/h is hardly worth one more upshift, 130km/h creates a bit of a breeze at last, but it takes a foray into triple-figure territory to summon the driver’s full attention.
In a secret parallel universe, one could run this macchina prova at 356km/h all day long with no threat to the driving licence, but here, in the heart of the Modenese motor valley, the carabinieri no longer salute the local heroes with fasta, fasta! thumbs up gestures.
Oversexed hypercars are marketed as entry tickets to a whole new realm where extreme performance and unreal speed promise to kick off a second-to-none ego trip. Getting hooked is easy, accepting that the new opportunities are bound to clash with the rigid old rules less so.
But what the heck – let’s go for it and roar in eight seconds flat from zero to 200km/h. Hit the 100km/h mark in a time-warp 2.8sec. Exert more stopping power than a firmly seated hairpiece can take. Open the g-force floodgates and flush the brain from one side of the skull to the other, and again.
Mix and match the transmission in Manual and the DNA selector in Race for a glorious workout session at the fat-rimmed steering wheel, complemented by the world’s longest paddleshifters.
True, the Countach 2.0 comes with certain mod cons like AC and a basic infotainment system framed by ancient Audi switchgear, but the core drivetrain layout and the convoluted packaging date back to the days when Caesar was still in charge of the Roman empire.
Despite its elaborate carbonfibre monofuselage chassis and that tourbillon-complex twelve-cylinder engine, the LPI 800-4 feels decidedly more high-mech than high-tech. For a start, the newest old Lamborghini does not ride well at all.
Although the format of the Pirelli P Zero tyres – 255/30 ZR20 and 355/25 ZR21 – is not extreme by contemporary standards, the double-wishbone pushrod suspension boasting macaroni-size horizontal springs and not particularly concessive adaptive magneride dampers does not even fit the description of a modern off-piste set-up anymore.
After all, compliance is an alien term to this arrangement. The desirable Ferrari-style on-demand softer shock absorber setting is conspicuous by its absence, and although the front axle is fitted with a quick-lift feature, the low-flying nose keeps bottoming out on the rough stuff. Instead of an even firmer set-up, the new Countach could have done with more lissom and user-friendly kinematics.
The steering is quite quick at 2.1 to 2.4 turns from lock to lock, depending on the selected drive mode. At 12.5 metres, the turning circle is not excessively wide, but the cab-forward driving position and that inherent inkling of light initial understeer softens to a degree the explosive trademark handling demonstrated in perfection by the Huracan Technica.
In direct comparison, the Countach is much harder work. Dialling in and unwinding lock can be an arm-twisting business, bracing yourself for ruts, bumps and potholes syphons attention and energy, the fat A-pillars keep interfering with your field of vision through second and third-gear corners, and the visibility from the B-pillars back is practically zero, even though the reversing camera does help to contain major embarrassments.
According to hard-nosed supercar junkies, trust in God and a firm stab on the throttle are safer escape tools than all the mirrors in the world.
The gaudy instrument display is full of surprises. Redlined at 8700rpm, the rev-counter throws in 200 unexpected bonus rpm when you really go for it. At the other end of the dynamic scale, in what is best described as sauntering mode, however, a piston icon lights up to inform us that six of the twelve cylinders are currently off duty – not that the remaining 291kW would render the beast momentarily motionless.
Two more oddball add-ons are the erratic start-stop system and a small readout depicting any ongoing charging or discharging activity even though there are at best a token 30kW and 35Nm at stake either way. The tiny e-motor and the supercapacitor it is fed by add 34kg to the total dry weight of 1595kg, which now also includes a 48V system but still no active anti-roll bars.
The seats, dashboard and door panels are trimmed in supple red and black leather with contrasting white stitching – nice. Less appealing are the plasticky rocker switches that run across the fascia like rows of identical black pockmarks.
A naturally-aspirated 6.5-litre engine is certainly not what the eco doctor ordered, but as compensation for the massive CO2 outburst, this highly addictive and emotional powerplant keeps adding irrevocable acoustic and dynamic memories to the black box inside your head.
Forget for a moment the fig-leaf hybrid nonsense. What matters here more than emission control is massive unbridled power (607kW with e-boost active) and brutal torque (720Nm at 6750rpm) as well as what this physical assault does to one’s mindset.
In Lambo terms, the difference between the Urus V8 and this V12 feels like the transition from a rock-meets-classic venue to an electric heavy metal big band gig featuring enough new solo artists to stage a truly unique goosebump-growing opera buffa. The dry sump lubrication and its stressed pumps are in charge of the bass-driven underground thunder.
The multi-vocal tune of the airflow over, under and through the car changes constantly in sync with speed, temperature and aero needs. Valves, chains and camshafts form the main choir, the vast intake manifolds sound like closed-coupled synthesisers, and the quad-pipe exhaust vociferates its message with intense grunting and growling, screaming and shouting.
In terms of street cred, the new Countach deserves nine out of ten points when parked and eleven out of ten when the fireworks are underway. At full speed, it still vaguely looks like a car but it could also easily pass as a taxiing jet, a two-seater hovercraft hybrid, an alien object preparing for take-off and a proposal for the GT8 or GT9 videogame.
Since development of the donor model began back in 2005, the main advantages over today’s sportscar elite are flashiness, rarity value and the acoustic wow effect. Handling?
Deep down, the LPI 800-4 is half track racer and half boulevardier, but because of its sheer size it never truly excels on winding B- and C-roads peppered with hairpins, recurrent surface imperfections and latent camber changes.
Grip and traction are available in abundance, and the strong brakes do reel in Moby Dick with reassuring repeatability, but the undisputed domain of the big flatfish are very fast A-roads and any kind of autostrada. Here, the Lambo comes closest to demolishing the competition with second-to-none 200-355km/h urge, stoic ground-effect roadholding even across yawning expansion joints, and ten-tenths feedback all the way to the limit.
Be prepared though for occasional brusque cornering antics, aggressive high-speed tramlining, susceptibility to crosswinds, even mild lift-off aftershocks.
It is bound to take years before these 112 handbuilt bespoke one-offs will even in sum match our muletto’s 41,000km. After all, the Countach MkII that’s destined to plug the gap until the delayed Aventador replacement finally arrives next year is not a particularly practical daily driver.
Like that violet velvet Etro suit in the back of the closet, it is probably best perceived as a posh accessory for special occasions and as a fresh highlight of an important collection.
At the end of the day, it’s the scant 63 litres of luggage space, cramped cabin, 360-degree vulnerability in traffic, severely restricted visibility and that impossibly slow and jerky automated seven-speed transmission that impede the 24/7 useability of this very special Lamborghini.
While even Sport mode is a frustratingly passive work-to-rule programme when the transmission is left in auto, the raw Manual mode is a more rewarding but still blatantly uncouth option. To get the best out of this Lamborghini, find a wide-open road and treat yourself to the car’s many talents while keeping an eye on its few shortcomings.
Or look for a catwalk-quality boulevard and enjoy watching others marvel at this rare piece of street furniture from behind an ice-cold champagne cocktail.
VERDICT
The Countach 2.0 is a highly emotional and visually striking near-hypercar, but it is too pricey, violable and unwieldy for hardcore battles with modern B-road dominators.
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