At 7000 rpm, the Lamborghini Miura's big V12 powerplant generates an unearthly sound, a symphony of induction and combustion noises mixed with the howl of dozens of fast-spinning gears, cams acting on valves and heaven only knows what else. Any 12-cylinder engine that turns at such an elevated rate can make a similar racket, but here it's all happening inches behind your head. Loud, yes, but excitingly so; a few moments in a Miura being run in full war mode is enough to make any other car seem terminally dull. There are other Miura joys to savor as well. Begin with the body, a sensuous, sleek form that is dazzling in its unadorned purity. Bertone's young designer, Marcello Gandini, created a masterpiece here, one he would never quite surpass later. Then there's the small but comfortable cabin, swathed in buttery-soft Italian leather, magnificently detailed. The chassis, too, is beautiful in a functional way.
And it all works. Oh, how it works. The suspension delivers both a good ride and remarkable cornering power, and it always keeps the driver fully informed of what's going on. The brakes are up to the job of bringing a 160-plus mph car to a halt as well.
One might expect acceleration and handling from such a machine, but the veneer of civility that makes the Miura a "real" car is an unexpected bonus when you consider that the Miura was originally intended to be built in a series of 30 cars only, and was rushed into production when orders began to pour in.
Which brings us to the downside of life with Miura. If not maintained and modified in small but crucial ways, a Miura can rot away at key points and/or become a mouse-nest of squeaks as the chassis flexes. The electrical system has weak points galore and, even though Automobili Lamborghini remains in business (after enduring a series of ownership changes), the Miura is as much an "orphan" car as a Borgward or Moretti. Don't be fooled by the starry-eyed fans' gushings over the original mid-engine Lambo; as quickly as it seduces, so too can it cause incredible grief to the unfortunate owner who either gets a lemon or fails to treat a good example with proper care.
At the Turin auto show in 1965 Lamborghini exhibited the first Miura chassis. Created by Gianpaolo Dallara, Paolo Stanzani and Bob Wallace, the body-less package had the look of a racing-car-in-the-making. Sheet steel, liberally drilled for lightness where possible, was welded into a box-section structure that carried a slightly modified version of the V12 engine originally designed for the 350/400 GT. Here, however, the powerplant was laid out transversely behind driver and passenger and was connected to the gearbox by helical gears.
Some months later the first complete Miura appeared in Monaco at Grand Prix time and caused a sensation. Response to the orange coupe was so strong that what was intended originally to be a run of 30 cars grew into a final production total more than 20 times greater. Serious production began in 1967 and was ended in 1972 when the LP400/Countach took center stage.
Naturally, the Miura was greeted by the automotive press with bleating of joy. Here, for $20,000 or so, was a drop-dead gorgeous supercar that could out-exotic any Ferrari you'd care to name, show nearly 170 mph on the speedometer and take corners like a racing car. So what if the cockpit was cramped for anyone over 6ft 1in. and poorly ventilated? Who cared if the gearbox had to be shifted slowly and with great deliberation? One report summarized the Miura as "...the most glamorous, exciting and prestigious sports car in the world...has its faults but every enthusiast should have at least one Miura." Another called it "bold, individualistic and unconventional." All agreed on almost every detail, though the horsepower figures quoted varied (between 400 and 430 bhp), as with all Italian cars.
The first Miuras were called P400s. Their chassis were fabricated from 0.8mm steel. Over the years, as the structure showed signs of excess flexibility, the thickness of the steel was increased, first to 0.9mm, the to 1.0mm and finally to 1.2mm in the last SVs. Some 475 P400s were built.
Later, the P400 became the Miura S, differing only in minor details from its predecessor. According to Tom Shaughnessy (949/366-6211), a Southern California Ferrari broker with a soft spot in his heart for Miuras (he owns an S, and arranged for the SV shown here to be brought out for the SV shown here to be brought out for photography and driving impressions), rumors of horsepower increases and engine modifications between P400 and S are simply rumors. There may be minor changes in cam timing, but he quotes former Lamborghini development engineer Bob Wallace as saying that horsepower differences, if any, may add up to 7 bhp. Or less.
Later S-model Miuras had different wheels, modifications to the cooling system and a stiffened from chassis section, as well as vented brake discs and minor changes to interior trim and switchgear. These are sometimes "Series II" Ses. Shaughnessy says these cars began with chassis numbers in the 4,000 range. Most production totals suggest that 140 Ses were built.
The SV is considered by almost everyone who cares to be the ultimate Miura, but not all SVs are alike. Early versions may show some differences when compared to Ses, but only later examples had the split oil in the transmission. Before that, engine and gearbox shared lubricant, which caused some problems, particularly when an imprudent owner chipped gear teeth while shifting and the remains found their way into the engine. Only the last 50 to 60 of the 150 SVs produced had the full list of upgrades, from the split engine/gearbox oiling, Positraction differential and four-link rear suspension to wider (9.0-in.) rear wheels-which necessitated widened rear bodywork-and the SV cosmetic changes. The latter included gold painted wheels and rocker panels, and the deletion of the "eyebrows" around the pop-up headlights.
Over the years, all but a few seldom-driven show-quality Miuras (and a few derelicts) have been modified to improve the weaknesses of early models. Bracing in selected locations has added chassis stiffness, use of late-model four-link rear suspension pieces has cut down on uneven suspension bushing wear, and relatively simple fixes to cooling systems and carburetors have taken care of overheating and engine-bay fires, respectively.
Many Miuras will be sporting new front underpan sections as well. It seems the factory used wool as an insulator under the front-mounted fuel tank, and this collected moisture which inevitably ate away at both the flat pans and surrounding chassis rails. Bob Wallace has suggested a change from splash-type to forced lubrication of the engine-gearbox transfer gears which reduces noise and wear. Electrical system "fixes" are common, too.
Given the hand-built nature of these cars, none of these problems should come as a surprise. Neither should the difficulties of repairing bent body panels, or, worse, of fitting new pieces. Each part of a Miura body was stamped with the car's serial number, and each was painstaking worked into position. Replacement rear window slats, internal braces or trim may not even come close to looking right until massaged.
All the horror stories one might hear about Miuras-and those recounted here are more or less the tip of the iceberg--cannot dull the sheer joy of driving. The mechanical responsiveness a Miura displays is unequaled even by some of today's premier exotics, and the elegance of the overall design puts the mid-engine Lamborghini in a very small class of timeless classic automotive forms.
A bad Miura can instill feelings of outrage and out-and-out hatred in its owner's heart. It can destroy even a healthy bank account in short order as well.
But a good Miura, whether inherently nice or resuscitated from near-dead by a sympathetic owner and talented technicians, is a true work of art and a car to be cherished for its undeniable visual and dynamic attributes. Think of it as the ultra-Ultra-Buy.
The View from the Parts Counter
With such a glorious car in front of you, you're worrying about parts? How can you be practical at a time like this? Okay, okay, you are definitely right to be worried. Since the words "Lamborghini" and "dealer" create a textbook oxymoron when combined, it is logical to assume that getting vital parts is going to be a real hassle. And it is.
Most of today's Lambo purveyors won't have a thing on their shelves for Miuras. An appeal to the factory can bring positive results, if you've made the call on the right day and are talking to the right person. Some items, such as brake and electrical system parts, may also be available from their original manufacturers. But plenty of body and trim parts are simply no longer available from anyone and must be replaced with used (rare) or specially fabricated (expensive!) items.
The best sources are the service/restoration specialists and enthusiasts in the Lamborghini owners' clubs who have squirreled away anything they could find. Most of them can direct you to yet another good source, this one in Arizona, where many items otherwise unavailable can be found in either NOS or newly manufactured/remanufactured form. Sources say the prices are reasonable there, too.
The View from the Service Bay
In essence, the Miura is a relatively simple car with a few exceedingly complex features. A competent Ferrari mechanic won't have much trouble dealing with routine service, and one of the rare Lamborghini specialists throughout the country will find it a walk in the park to work on. So, too, will those owners with a comprehensive toolbox, some mechanical skills and plenty of patience.
"There's nothing that requires a brain surgeon's skills in a Miura, according to Tom Shaughnessy, though he suggests that small hands are helpful when repairs and adjustments to the front row of carburetors are necessary. Some operations are time-consuming; changing the front six spark plugs, which virtually demands removal of the three forward Webers, is one, and clutch placement is definitely another.
Beyond those chores peculiar to its unusual mechanical layout, the Miura needs the kind of service any exotic car--any car at all, for that matter--demands. Lubricant changes, checking of hoses, belts, and other perishable parts and rectification of small fluid leaks, electrical gremlins and new squeaks/rattles should be regularly attended to, regardless of how often the car is used. In fact cars that are seldom driven need even more care, lest deterioration cause problems.
If run regularly, kept filled with clean oil, coolant and brake fluid and pre-flighted like a small airplane, a Miura can enjoy a long and happy life. Treat it badly and it may turn to dust at a faster rate than you can imagine.
How Much?
No matter how you look at it, the purchase of a Miura will require substantial sums of money. Even in the initial price seems low, it will undoubtedly be followed by a significant cash outlay for repairs, upgrades and cosmetic surgery. Unless you happen to know the seller well, you will want to be no less careful when entering a darkened room full of rattlesnakes.
As always, a good recorded history is of paramount importance unless you are prepared to take on a major restoration project. Look for paperwork indicating regular service--by an acknowledged expert--first, followed by documentation covering upgrades and modifications as previously mentioned. And definitely have someone who knows what's what with Miuras take a good long look before you buy. Even if the pre-sale vetting adds a four-figure sum to your total investment, it's better than having a dream car become a nightmare.
Tom Shaughnessy suggests that the best values may not necessarily be found among the 100-point restorations. It isn't unknown for the customer's primary interest is in a limited-(or no-) mileage showcar. Some body shops have been less than successful in recreating exterior panel shapes and trim as well. A shopworn unrestored example that is considered basically sound by an expert can be spiffed up by a good specialist and still end up costing less than creampuffs.
$50,000-$90,000: Early P400 Miuras can be found for as little as $50,000 or as much as $90,000, depending on condition and the owner's willingness to cut a deal. Condition plays a role in determining value, but so does the presence or lack of functional upgrades. A P400 is not everyone's ideal choice but is most likely what you'll run across first. The right one can be good. Within the upper limits of this range it might be possible to find a Miura S, though probably not in the best condition.
$100,000-$130,000: Any Miura here will likely be solid S or a totally restored P400 with all the improvement, though the latter should not cost more that $100,000. Don't be fooled into paying a premium for a car claimed to be an SV when in actuality it is an S with gold wheels. Check out chassis numbers with someone who knows. On the other hand, there are documented cases of certain S models leaving the factory with what is normally considered SV trim, just as there are P4000s with S upgrades. Change did not follow a fixed schedule at Lamborghini. Worry more about mechanical soundness, a solid chassis and well-maintained mechanicals.
$140,000-$200,000:
A good and genuine SV will fall between these numbers. Should you be so fortunate as to find a car that matches the one pictured here, it will certainly cost close to 200 large, and will be worth every penny. Keep Shaughnessey's advice in mind and strike a deal for a solid car, even if it needs some work; it's fair to say that a first-class car will eat a $150,000+ hole in the bank account in any case, and spending the last third of that having you Miura brought up to standard by someone you trust makes a great deal of sense.
Alternatives
At first glance there are no substitutes for the genuine article. First impressions are, in this case correct. Anyone looking for another gorgeous, outrageous coupe with a V12 engine slotted transversely behind the driver is out of luck.
Partial substitutes are available. If you want to experience the pleasures of the Lamborghini powerplant, you can console yourself with a 400GT, Jarama or Islero. Same engine (but front-mounted), handsome (if controversial) styling, exhilarating performance and plenty of exclusivity for the happy owner. They share the Miura's ownership drawbacks, as you'd expect....
Or one might look to the Countach. Early and less-well maintained examples might be even less expensive than a decent Miura and can be catered to--at least to some extent--by current Lambo dealers. Same basic engine, too, though sited differently in the chassis. Styling-wise, the choice between Countach and Miura is entirely personal; the former is definitely more dramatic but has not aged as gracefully as the latter.
None of these can be classed as "better" buys, at least if measured by reliability, ease of service, parts availability, etc. Any Lamborghini can bleed your wallet dry and torture you with glitches major and minor; they make Ferraris look like paragons of virtue in this respect.
If you've read this far, you may be presumably decided that the pleasure outweighs the possibility of pain, so if your dream Miura doesn't materialize, the recommendation here is to grab the best 400 GT you can find--paying less money while doing so, by the way--and settle into one of the automotive world's best love-hate relationships.
The Owner's View
Kevin Romak got his first ride in a Miura SV in 1971, when his father bought one to replace a De Tomaso Mangusta. During the 7 or so years Romak senior ran his SV, Kevin was able to drive it from time to time, often enough to have retained vivid memories of what he considers to be "Lamborghini [Ferrari] GTO."
Less than a year later, George Dyer bought an SV. It was built to order, with an unusual blue exterior/interior color scheme. Dyer, a friend of the Romak family, kept the SV until 1997 and put some 18,000 miles on it. When he decided the time had come to part with it, this special and very original SV went to Kevin Romak.
How original? Except for some partial repainting and the fitment of modern tires, it remains the same car George Dyer drove with so much pleasure. In fact, Romak brought the car to out photo session with correct period tires mounted on the correct SV gold-painted rims. A more authentic example of a late-model SV (the Dyer car is chassis 5018; the final Miura, built up from leftover parts much later, was 5510) would be almost impossible to find. Though there have been plenty of exciting cars in Romak's past and current stable of exotics--a Ferrari 400, 911 Porsche and Mercedes-Benz E55 are among those currently sharing garage space with the SV--he maintains that the Lamborghini would be the one he'd keep if forced to cut back. His attachment is partly sentimental (Dyer is a good friend, and Romak still regards the SV as his) and partly based on the excitement a Miura provides for its driver.
The SV has been reliable, too. It has never failed to start, always runs well, and displays no temperament of the expected kinds (plug fouling and overheating, for example) even in slow-moving traffic. With the help of a little luck and a lot of regular maintenance, Kevin Romak expects to enjoy that kind of fuss-free behavior from his very special Miura forever.
The Numbers
Base price: (1968): $21,000
Engine: dohc V12
Displacement: 3929cc
Horsepower @ rpm: 400 @ 7000
Torque (lb-ft) @ rpm: 300 @ 5000
Carburetion: 6 Weber 401DL
Transmission: Five-speed manual
Wheelbase: 98.4 in. Track, f/r: 55.1/55.1 in.
Length/width/height: 171.6/69.3/41.5 in.
Curb weight: 2,850 lb
Fuel tank: 25.1 gal.
Suspension, f/r: Upper & lower A-arms, coil springs, tube shocks, anti-roll bar
Steering: Rack & pinion Wheels: alloy, 15x7.0 in.
Tires: 205-15 Brakes, f/r: Disc/disc
Performance, 0-60: 6.3 sec. Standing 1/4 mile, time @ speed: 14.5 sec. @ 101 mph
Maximum speed: 163 mph Fuel economy: 15 mpg