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V12 engines unite this trio – big capacity, naturally aspirated V12s that blow past 500bhp and 200mph.
But the execution, from the minutiae of how these incredible engines feel to what the cars set out to achieve, could barely be more different.
Two decades since the Lamborghini Murciélago, Ferrari 575M and Aston Martin Vanquish arrived on the scene seems an appropriate time to re-evaluate their legacies.
Rutland-based Car-Iconics is kindly supplying both the Ferrari and Aston, but Lamborghini owner Joseph Wheeler has generously loaned us his Murciélago, provided we collect it some 90 minutes cross-country. Oh, go on then.
The Murciélago’s scissor door is up like a cowboy’s pistol when we arrive, V12 humming away.
After asking the inevitable do’s and don’ts, Wheeler simply says: ”The trust is there, enjoy it.”
The first all-new Lamborghini built on Volkswagen’s watch, Luc Donckerwolke’s design now appears better resolved than ever, with a lozenge-like profile given definition by the set-square geometry of a stealth fighter.
Cab forward and doorstop-pointy, with a swollen rear that could as easily house a nuclear arsenal with bomb hatch as a V12 with a gearbox ahead of it, in the decades-old Sant’Agata tradition.
Duck under the door, climb over the sill and settle into seats that are firm and relatively skinny but which go large on lateral support.
The interior is strikingly simple: big roll of dash cascading into a passenger grabhandle, small three-spoke steering wheel perfectly tailored to hands clasped at quarter-to-three, unfussy dials with a rather clinical typeface, and some VW switchgear if you look for it.
Navy blue leather is a foil to the steel gearlever and selector gate sited high on the centre console, looking more like an Oscar than a device for swapping ratios.
In essence the Murciélago is an evolution of the Diablo – high-strength steel and carbonfibre structure sheathed mostly in carbonfibre, mid-mounted 6.2-litre V12 that dates back to the start of the Lamborghini bloodline, all-wheel drive – but it necessarily evolved that flawed model.
Key elements include mountings for the front suspension moved forwards, a revised gear linkage with double- and triple-cone synchronisers, and better usability with 25mm lower sills and doors that open 5º wider.
Clearly there’s intimidation here, with compromised rear visibility (mirrors like letterboxes help), more than 2m of width to thread down lanes, and a whole lot of power, but this not an overbearing car to drive: it rides with real compliance, steers with meaningful if far from excessively beefy weight and quickly falls into an easy rhythm on well-sighted B-roads.
The clutch weighting is moderate and progressive, and while the pedals are skewed to the left, they’re set perfectly for heel-and-toe, with just a little give in the brake pedal before it’s level with the throttle – a smallish detail but key to your chances of keeping this monster in balance while rapidly checking its progress.
The gearchange is the icing on the cake, with mechanical precision and a shift that you grab with a fist and work from your elbow like an Oxbridge rower: as much as the V12 itself, it’s the making of this driving experience.
First and second are pretty tall, so you can really lay into the 6.2-litre engine’s huge reserves of performance, especially because all-wheel drive puts it down with such reassurance.
There’s something quite liberating about the big, confident inputs the Murciélago encourages.
Even today, though, this is a heck of a lot of performance, with 572bhp at 7500rpm and 479lb ft at 5400rpm, but the first thing you notice is how smooth, perfectly in balance and flexible the V12 is at a canter.
Lamborghini’s data shows power climbing like a rocket but torque flowing as if it’s tracing a Porsche 356 silhouette from front to rear.
That’s thanks to a variable intake tract that butters torque through the range; it’s always pretty stout, but a switch flicks at around 4500rpm for a burst more speed and drama, and suddenly it’s spinning freely to 7500rpm and you’re constantly working that six-speed manual, percussive little pause of breath at the top of the range, hungry barks of revs as you downshift.
The Lambo is the lightest, most powerful car here and feels it.
Despite the Murciélago’s giant strides, it still lacks the polish of more modern machinery on twistier roads.
Yes, it has monstrous traction and there is (pretty blunt) traction control, but the steering response is ponderous initially, there’s some understeery push in this car (fresh tyres would help) and you’re definitely aware of where the heavy end of the hammer is when you carve into a corner fast and off-throttle.
The engine sits 50mm lower than in a Diablo, thanks to a new dry-sump lubrication system, but there’s still 58% of the weight back there.
You’ll crash by releasing the throttle and then not pressing it.
The thing is, you quickly click with the Murciélago, flaws and all.
There’s something about its balance of parched-throat excitement, the accessibility of performance and surprising usability that make it a real licence-loser – you just can’t resist driving it a bit too quickly.
The Aston Martin Vanquish couldn’t deploy V12 power more divergently: it’s a grand tourer in which you could place a grandparent and reasonably hope to retrieve them, if perhaps not grandkids in the optional ‘+2’ rear seats.
It dials up luxury and sophistication and tones down the ostentation, but still thrills over a great road.
Like the Murciélago, the Vanquish marked the transition between two eras as a large OEM busy snapping up brands took control, this time Ford and its Premier Automotive Group.
It was the last Aston produced at Newport Pagnell, and the first built on a new chassis developed with Lotus, using a carbonfibre backbone and bonded aluminium extrusions – forerunner to the VH-platform that underpinned Astons for well over a decade.
The Vanquish was, of course, James Bond’s car for Die Another Day.
The design builds on the DB7 and – like that car – was penned by Ian Callum, but it looks so perfectly formed it could have been cast from molten metal.
You can see references to the chiselled muscle of the ’90s Virage/Vantage, particularly in the haunches, but also the timeless beauty of the 1950s and ’60s golden era.
This is a much more conventional driving position than the Lamborghini’s, with extremely comfortable leather chairs that place you in the gods, a tombstone of a centre console and, yes, a smattering of Ford switchgear.
Like the buttons, people sniff that the Vanquish uses two Ford Duratec V6s joined at the hip, but this is a fabulous V12: 5.9 litres, a lovely wet, bassy burble and a sophisticated vocal range that builds with real thunder.
It pulls clean and hard from low revs but gets a proper supercar gallop on when you really exercise it.
To be fair, this Vanquish is The Faster One.
The original Vanquish made a healthy 460bhp, but we’re driving the ‘S’ spec, which increased performance by around 10% to 520bhp at 7000rpm and 426lb ft of torque at 5800rpm, courtesy of new cylinder heads with reprofiled inlets and combustion chambers, stronger conrods, a higher compression ratio, new injectors and a remapped ECU.
That put the Aston almost bang on Ferrari pace – funny, that – and put more fresh air between the Vanquish and the DB9 that made its debut in ’04 (and cost £71k less than the £195,950 Vanquish S).
There also appear to be three pedals and a stick in this car.
These days pretty much all autos are either dual-clutchers or torque converters, but at the turn of the millennium the automated (or clutchless) manual was in vogue, essentially removing the clutch pedal and letting hydraulic actuation take care of shifting either automatically or by responding to commands tapped in on paddle-shifters fixed to the steering wheel or column.
The 575M and Murciélago offered manuals and automated manuals, but Aston went all-in on the new technology and the Vanquish’s ponderous shifts took more flak than a heavy bomber over occupied territory. Hence Aston Martin Works offering a manual conversion, and this one has receipts for more than £21k.
A desirable upgrade, but it’s no match for the Lamborghini’s mechanical delicacy.
Here, the clutch bites early and physically, the shift is knuckly and heavy. A modern torque converter would strike a better balance.
The rest of this Vanquish S is as it left the factory, meaning that the uprated V12 is complemented by chassis and braking upgrades again conceived to put the Vanquish on terms with the Ferrari 575M.
These additions were bundled in the Sports Dynamic Package offered optionally on the Vanquish from 2004, but here they’re standard equipment, with 5mm lower suspension, uprated springs and dampers, larger brakes (six pistons and 378mm discs at the front) and 20% faster steering.
Despite being an indecently rapid machine, the Vanquish easily feels – and is – the heaviest here, with a kerbweight of 1875kg (the Ferrari weighs 1730kg, the Lamborghini 1650kg) and a chassis that feels like a funny mix, as if it could manage that corpulence more precisely but also ride more compliantly.
On trickier surfaces the wheels feel heavy, and you’re aware of them individually deflecting, but there’s mush at both ends when you lean on the grip.
The V12 is pushed way back in the nose, though, so it turns in crisply and is pleasingly alert if you’re just a little more patient, and these are excellent brakes, with prompt and reassuring bite matched with highly effective stopping power.
Better to combine the Aston’s willingness to stop and turn on the way into corners with gentle throttle and a fraction of oversteer on the way out, something the reasonably liberal traction control system indulges.
Really, though, the Vanquish S shines brightest as a super-GT, effortlessly stretching its legs with easy pace, luxurious comfort and space to spare. Think more of a road trip to Le Mans than back-roads to Silverstone.
The Prancing Horse we’re driving is owned by Stephen Gannon, co-founder of the business along with his son, Daniel.
The Ferrari was produced from 2002 to 2006, following the 550 Maranello of 1996, and in many ways it splits the difference between the Lamborghini and the Aston, with sharper dynamics than the Brit but enhanced usability versus its countryman.
The 575M is technically an evolutionary tickle of its predecessor (the M suffix stands for modificato, or modified, and its reworked headlights are the most obvious difference), but the 550 had marked a significant turning point as Ferrari’s first two-seater V12 since 1973.
In the two decades before the 550, Ferrari made mid-engined V12 halo models that were comparable to the Murciélago and inspired by the Lamborghini’s predecessors; ever after it has reverted, save the special-series mid-engined hypercars, to the front-engined GTs on which the company laid its foundations.
Under the skin of aluminium panels there’s a tubular steel spaceframe, but the 65º V12 (its rivals favour a 60º vee) had grown from 5.5 to 5.7 litres, producing 508bhp at 7200rpm with 434lb ft of torque at 5250rpm.
Ferrari offered three pedals, but here there’s a tiny little joystick in place of the gated manual.
It’s Ferrari’s first automated manual and was dubbed ‘F1’, which at the time was something to celebrate: ‘F1 world champions 1999, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003 and 2004,’ says the plaque in this (Schumacher-developed) car.
The 575M interior was also uprated. Wrapped in black leather, it is surprisingly Germanic and quite austere in here, with a lean focus like leather skins drawn tight over drums: it’s in everything from gorgeous carbonfibre-backed seats that clamp you firmly but comfortably, to the contours of the dash architecture, to the chronograph precision of the central tacho; even the firm, perfectly formed shape of the steering wheel.
It makes the Aston in particular look flabby and sprawling, and there’s no question that this is our best-of-the-bunch driving position: low down, pedals dead ahead, great visibility.
It’s an elegant car and the shortest here, and in profile your eye is drawn to a wheelbase that is shorter still in relation to the others.
You notice that in the length of the overhangs and feel it in how nimble and reactive the Ferrari is.
Not all 575s drive so well, however.
The 575M was criticised in period for feeling like a flabbier 550, and Ferrari did offer the Fiorano package for keener drivers, a £2215 handling upgrade named after its private test track.
But this car gets the Handling GTC Package, which took improvements a leap further in 2004.
For £16,450 (on top of £163,200 with the F1 gearbox), you got suspension lowered by 15mm, with front spring rates increased by 33%, rears by 15%, plus uprated adaptive Sachs dampers and a 75% stiffer rear anti-roll bar.
As with the Fiorano pack, a new ECU reduced steering assistance for a meatier feel.
The wheels grew from 18 to 19in, and HGTC models also received a Brembo carbon-ceramic brake upgrade borrowed from the Enzo.
I’ve driven both a standard 575 and this very car around Rockingham race circuit and the difference was huge, with the standard car’s soft rear end and spongy brake pedal quickly knocking confidence and precision.
The HGTC’s extra focus translates well to the road, too.
The V12 doesn’t sound as exotic as the Lamborghini nor as musclebound as the Aston, but it is still compelling, still with a throttle response that buzzes like an electric fence, it’s just less spine-tinging, more mechanical.
Bloody quick, though: the lower gear ratios feel more tightly stacked than the Lamborghini or the Aston, so you punch through them in a bit of a blur on the paddles, but third gives you more time to appreciate the build-up as you dip into the long-travel accelerator, where it’s tractable and malleable at low revs and bursts with a second wave of enthusiasm above 4000rpm that intensifies ferociously right up to peak revs.
The automated-manual gearshifts can be a little dopey in the default mode (lifting the throttle between shifts helps), but they wake up with a prod of the Sport button, leaving very little to complain about.
Sport also firms the dampers, which even proactively react to the pauses between gearshifts to keep the body stable, although it adds a brittleness to the ride.
But there’s no doubt that the 575M is the best balanced, most exploitable and most confidence-inspiring car in this trio.
The brake pedal is instantly taut, with easily modulated pressure and monster stopping power; the steering crackles with communication and its weight is beautifully judged; and that compact wheelbase means it changes direction like a featherweight boxer.
The 575 also oversteers very casually, if with a lovely fluid and predictable balance: leave the traction control in Sport and your hands can move from quarter-to-three to twenty-five-to-one without a hint of intervention.
It’s this mix of predictability, stability and playfulness that makes the 575M the car I’d prefer to be in if I arrived at a corner ahead of schedule and in a bit of a panic.
Three V12s, then, and three very different choices.
Of all these cars, the Vanquish is the easiest to dismiss, impressive as it is as a long-distance GT, and as gorgeous as it looks and sounds.
It could feel sharper and still hit its refinement targets.
The Ferrari is the car to cover all bases.
It represents fantastic value for money, with prices typically £70k and up for base 575s, and, as the Gannons attest, can crack an indicated 201mph on the way to the Nürburgring and be a bundle of fun all the way round, too.
It’s a smart choice if you’ve saved all your life to buy one supercar and need it to do everything.
But the supercar to add to your dream collection, to take out on high days and holidays and drive as if you’re outrunning the apocalypse? That’ll be the Lamborghini.
Images: Luc Lacey
Thanks to Car-Iconics
Factfiles
Aston Martin Vanquish S
- Sold/number built 2001-’07/1492 (Vanquish), 1086 (Vanquish S)
- Construction bonded aluminium and carbonfibre monocoque
- Engine all-alloy, dohc-per-bank 5935cc V12, fuel injection
- Max power 520bhp @ 7000rpm
- Max torque 426lb ft @ 5800rpm
- Transmission six-speed manual, RWD
- Suspension independent, by wishbones, coil springs, telescopic dampers f/r
- Steering power-assisted rack and pinion
- Brakes discs, with servo and anti-lock
- Length 15ft 3in (4665mm)
- Width 6ft 3in (1923mm)
- Height 4ft 3in (1318mm)
- Wheelbase 8ft 8in (2690mm)
- Weight 4134lb (1875kg)
- 0-60mph 4.8 secs
- Top speed 199mph
- Mpg 15
- Price new £195,950
- Price now from £90,000*
Lamborghini Murciélago
- Sold/number built 2001-’10/4099
- Construction tubular steel spaceframe with carbonfibre reinforcement, carbonfibre, steel and aluminium body
- Engine all-alloy, dohc-per-bank 6192cc V12, fuel injection
- Max power 572bhp @ 7500rpm
- Max torque 479lb ft @ 5400rpm
- Transmission six-speed manual, 4WD
- Suspension independent, by wishbones, coil springs, telescopic dampers f/r
- Steering power-assisted rack and pinion
- Brakes discs, with servo and anti-lock
- Length 15ft (4580mm)
- Width 6ft 7in (2045mm)
- Height 3ft 7in (1135mm)
- Wheelbase 8ft 7in (2665mm)
- Weight 3638lb (1650kg)
- 0-60mph 3.8 secs
- Top speed 205mph+
- Mpg 13.2
- Price new £170,038
- Price now from £140,000*
Ferrari 575M HGTC
- Sold/number built 2002-’06/2056
- Construction tubular steel spaceframe, aluminium body
- Engine all-alloy, dohc-per-bank 5748cc V12, fuel injection
- Max power 508bhp @ 7200rpm
- Max torque 434lb ft @ 5250rpm
- Transmission six-speed automated manual, RWD
- Suspension independent, by wishbones, coil springs, telescopic dampers f/r
- Steering power-assisted rack and pinion
- Brakes discs, with servo and anti-lock
- Length 14ft 11in (4550mm)
- Width 6ft 3in (1935mm)
- Height 4ft 2in (1277mm)
- Wheelbase 8ft 2in (2500mm)
- Weight 3814lb (1730kg)
- 0-60mph 4.2 secs
- Top speed 203mph
- Mpg 13
- Price new £163,200 (plus £16,450 for Handling GTC Package)
- Price now from £70,000 (non-HGTC)*
*Price correct at date of original publication
Keyword: Better by the dozen: Lamborghini Murciélago vs Aston Martin Vanquish S vs Ferrari 575M