Feature: Beauty and the Beast
December 1, 2007
Call it the $300,000 question: For a third of a million dollars—or thereabouts—which V-12-powered, two-seat Italian exotic would you buy? In one corner, we have the Marauder from Maranello, the coupe with the Enzo motor, the Ferrari 599 GTB Fiorano. In the other, wearing sinister black paint and yellow brake calipers, packing 631 hp, the Spaceship from Sant’ Agata, the Lamborghini Murciélago LP640. On paper, they seem like natural competitors, both sporting 600-plus hp V-12 engines, a sub-four-second zero-to-60 sprint and top speed in excess of 200 mph. But in practice, these two ostensibly similar supercars each approach their ultra high-performance goals in such a drastically different manner that it’s hard to believe they’re from the same planet, let alone the same country.
For starters, take a gander at the two cars’ styling. The 599 GTB’s shape is essentially organic, as natural as a wind-whipped sand dune (the flying buttresses confirm the old adage that if it looks right, it is right, as they help channel air over the rear end of the car). It’s a sensual car, a pretty car. The LP640, on the other hand, looks like a device designed by malevolent extraterrestrials bent on subjugating the human race. It’s all blocky musculature and straight lines, a wedge designed to cleave the atmosphere at 211 mph. Even the top of the side-window glass is double-edged, making the windows appear so thick they belong on an armored Escalade.
The essential look of the LP640 has been around since the original Countach—more than three decades—and, gauging by the reaction it causes, you see the reason Lamborghini has stuck with the low, wide, cab-forward motif. There’s something about the styling of this car that brings out people’s inner five-year-old, the child who takes unvarnished joy in spotting a Hot Wheels car come to life. Paradoxically, it’s an angry-looking car that makes people very happy, and every time you approach it you’re bound to field an informal Q and A session on the scissor-doored monster.
The Ferrari, meanwhile, has near-LP640 performance, but comes off as understated thanks to its more conventional front-engine proportions. You’ll hear people say, "Hey, that’s a Ferrari!" and you’ll attract your share of cell-phone photos. However, in a restrained color like blue or silver, the 599 could be the most inconspicuous 612-hp car on the road.
The 599 GTB is a fairly big two-seater—about 9 inches longer than a C6 Corvette—but behind the wheel it feels small. The mighty V-12 up front has a strident voice, and sings at a higher register than the LP640 motor. The F1 Superfast sequential-manual transmission is, indeed, super fast, completing shifts in a mere 100 milliseconds—50 milliseconds faster than the F1 transmission in the F430. And, unless you crank the steering wheel’s manettino switch all the way to the right—thus canceling all electronic intervention save ABS—you know that there’s a safety net. If you hit a patch of gravel mid-corner, all is not (necessarily) lost. This is a reassuring car to drive fast.
Elliott Hillback, the owner of the 599 that I drove, tells me the GTB’s handling is a revelation compared to its predecessor, the 575M. He pops the hood and points out how the mighty Enzo V-12 is positioned deep against the firewall, far enough back that the 599 warrants a "front mid-engine" designation. While the 575M had 50/50 front-to-rear weight distribution, the 599 GTB actually has a rearward weight bias—53/47 percent. This imbues it with the sort of light, direct steering that you normally expect from a mid-engined car, not one with a V-12 ahead of the windshield.
The LP640’s steering is quick and accurate, but it has a strong self-centering tendency that I think serves two purposes. First of all, when you’re on a straight road doing your best imitation of an earthbound fighter jet, the Murciélago is reassuringly calm and collected. If you lose your will to keep the accelerator planted, it won’t be because you’re worried that a twitch of the wrist will send you into the next lane. Second, when you’re attacking a corner, the loaded-up steering serves as a built-in reminder that, while this car has incredibly high limits, its powers are not absolute and there’s no stability control to rescue you from a ham-fisted maneuver. All-wheel-drive and traction control notwithstanding, this is not a car to be trifled with. Take a look at www.wreckedexotics.com for proof.
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