As my plane begins its descent into Bologna – a historic Italian city famous for many things, including pasta sauce – looking out of the window from a great height tells you a great deal about its people and its place in its country’s society. From up above, as you survey the surrounding landscape, you notice that there isn’t a hill to be seen – just a vast, apparently endless patchwork quilt of perfectly flat fields full of crops in every possible shade of yellow, green and brown, with the occasional house to break up the symmetrical patterns.
There’s no getting away from the fact that this entire area revolves around agriculture. If you consider just why so many of the world’s fastest, most beautiful cars are made in this region, you can trace it all back to farming. For here, in the early part of the 20th century, men would hone their skills in the engineering and manufacture of farming machinery, then blow off steam at the weekends by racing the cars they also made. And while national stereotypes are almost always ill considered, few would argue that Italians are a rather passionate bunch, the net result of which has been some of the most iconic and important street and race cars of all time. It’s in their blood.
Each time I visit this place, I feel it’s the home of the supercar. Here, within spitting distance of one another, are the factories of Lamborghini, Ferrari, Maserati, Pagani, Ducati and, until a few years ago, the much maligned De Tomaso. Speed, beauty and a never-ending pursuit for greater performance – it’s all here, embedded in the very fabric of the countryside.
I don’t need an excuse to come here, but the reason for this particular visit is a good one. I’ve been invited by Lamborghini to experience what it’s like to be one of the company’s A-listers – to tour its factory and see first-hand how Aventadors and Huracáns are made, to visit its museum and, as if all that isn’t enough, to spend an entire day driving flat-out on the Imola racing circuit. As far as bucket lists go, this little itinerary would tick off a few items for most car fanatics.
The weather on the ground is glorious – it’s warm but not hot, as though spring is just about ready to cave in to summer, and there isn’t a cloud in the sky. Within an hour of checking in at our hotel (smack bang in the middle of this university city, the capital of the Emilia-Romagna region that’s sandwiched between Milan and Florence), my fellow visitors and I are whisked away to the Lamborghini factory in Sant’Agata Bolognese, about half an hour away.
Why is everyone here? The reasons are varied, but Lamborghini likes to treat its clients – both potential and existing – to a full-on sensory-immersion experience now and again. It’s not a freebie and the places are paid for by either an attendee’s local dealership, by the attendees themselves or, sometimes, a mixture of the two. But to be here, to join in with this kind of programme, is viewed as an essential brand-building exercise. After all, where better to put your message across than in the halls where you make some of the world’s most desirable cars?
Seeing rare cars being hand-built in front of your eyes is a particularly magical experience, even if you know deep down that you’ll never get to order a new one yourself. Thankfully, the numbers involved with this visit are manageably low. A select group of Lamborghini enthusiasts, from countries including Norway, France, Germany and the Middle East, have come together to experience some of the magic that the company hopes will serve to either keep them as customers or get them to sign up as new ones. But, as I’m about to find out, there’s also some education going on here.
Often, when you’re closely involved in something, you can’t understand why others might know next to nothing about it. And it’s no different with cars and the companies that make them. For the life of me I can’t fathom how anyone could like Lamborghini as a company, drive its incredible machines and yet know next to nothing about its history. But, as this group is taken on a guided tour of the production line where Aventadors are being lovingly pieced together, it becomes obvious that the stories of derring-do, of a company flying by the seat of its pants in the 1960s and beyond, aren’t known by these people.
As our guide explains that the walls we’re surrounded by are the same ones that existed when the wealthy industrialist Ferruccio Lamborghini had his first car built, the effect on these people is palpable. The entire place breathes with history. The floors we’re walking on once had Miura chassis wheeled about on trolleys. Frank Sinatra, Rod Stewart, and a host of other famous people had their cars made in this building – if these walls could only talk.
It’s this history, as much as the cars themselves, that makes me love this company. Ferruccio Lamborghini, a man of substantial means and owner of companies making tractors, air-conditioning units, oil heaters and other industrial applications, was fed up with his Ferrari 250 GTs (he owned several). He felt that they were unrefined and constantly had trouble with the clutches, meaning repeated visits to Ferrari’s factory in Modena to have them rebuilt – all of which was carried out in complete secrecy, something else that irked Lamborghini.
So he got in touch with Enzo Ferrari to complain, but was given short shrift by the old man. Suitably hacked off, Lamborghini decided to teach his neighbour a harsh lesson by building his own car. He had, after all, modified one of his Ferraris himself, so he felt he knew how to make an improved product.
The rest is history, and as I stand and watch a 500kg V12 engine being lowered into the belly of an Aventador, my mind wanders to think of all the incredible tales of success, desperation, financial ruin and rebirth that this building has witnessed over the years. My fellow visitors might not be aware of all that has happened with this company over the decades, but I’m fairly certain they’ll be reading up on it when they get home.
The factory itself, while recognisable from period photographs, has been transformed since Audi assumed custodianship of Lamborghini in 1998. It is now a model of efficiency and engineering excellence, but there’s still a family atmosphere pervading everything that goes on. It still feels Italian rather than German, and that goes a long way in keeping this company special.
As we leave behind the craftsmen and women, we head for the factory museum – a collection I’ve seen up close many times before now – to drool over models and concept cars from Lamborghini’s illustrious past. There are two Miuras on display (these alone are enough of a reason to visit), and I stand staring at the yellow SV in particular. For me, this car is the embodiment of perfect sculptural car design. It’s outrageously beautiful. It’s a work of art and has no equal.
But there are others here, too, that are deserving of my gaze. The 350GT that started it all in 1964 is present, right near the entrance, and its simple, uncluttered elegance has matured over the decades to make this a bone fide classic in its own right. There’s an LM002 – the “Rambo Lambo” – surely the most insane Italian vehicle ever made. There’s a jaw-dropping Espada, a weird-looking Jarama and a so-1980s-it-hurts Jalpa – the last one ever made and signed by Ferruccio Lamborghini himself.
Upstairs in the concept collection, the amazing Asterion hybrid that beguiled everyone in attendance at last year’s Paris Motor Show shares floor space with the mental Egoista one-off, a Sesto Elemento track car and a number of other weird and wonderful projects that have occupied the motoring press’s pages over the years.
The best, however, has been saved until last. The following day requires an early start and an hour’s drive to Imola. This circuit is new to me, but I’ve known about it for decades. Here, on that dreadful weekend in 1994, the Austrian driver Roland Ratzenberger and the three-time world champion Ayrton Senna were killed in separate accidents at the San Marino Grand Prix. The place, now known as Autodromo Enzo e Dino Ferrari, is still home to one of the world’s great tracks. It isn’t all that technical, but it does offer the opportunity to open the taps of a Huracán in a way you can do on few other circuits.
We’re briefed on track etiquette and given a short presentation by one of the engineers in charge of developing this supercar, before being split into groups ready for the driving element. I get to do a few of these things every year as part of my job, but free from the necessary time and resource constraints dictated by having large numbers of journalists on an event, this time I get to really experience the Huracán – a car I’ve not had proper seat time in for 12 months.
The sessions last for maybe four or five laps at a time, with no more than two cars following the lead, which happens to be an Aventador. With Lamborghini’s test drivers always up front, and nobody in the passenger seat of my car, I finally get to drive it like I stole it. For nearly seven glorious hours, I destroy the Pirellis wrapped on these cars’ rims and empty their fuel tanks, all the while falling in love again with the Huracán.
Playful enough to allow relative novices plenty of adrenaline-soaked enjoyment yet adjustable enough for seasoned pros to explore the limits of car and driver, this Lamborghini and the awe-inspiring racetrack that weaves through lush, dense countryside, perfectly match each other. And after two days, I’m not afraid to say I adore this company, its history and its mind-bending cars.
But there’s more to it than that. It’s a brainwashing by the place as much as any car company – for here is the passion for speed, design and engineering excellence and it all began in the ground. A visit comes highly recommended.
For more information on Lamborghini's customer programmes, visit esperienza.lamborghinievents.com – prices are dependent on individual requirements.
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