Wheels (Australia)

LAMBO FACTORY

Jump onboard Bull ride from Sant’agata’s past to future

- WORDS MEL NICHOLS PHOTOS JOHN MASON

THE CONTADINO who owned the fields adjoining the Lamborghin­i factory must feel like a lottery winner. His ship’s come in. For decades, the factory that Ferruccio Lamborghin­i built in 1963 was big enough to knock out two or three hundred cars a year. But since Audi bought Automobili Lamborghin­i SPA in 1998 and poured in money and resources, production has rocketed to last year’s record 3457 cars. The Urus SUV coming in 2018 should double that. And where, in the grim days before Audi, there were 300 employees, now there are 1415, and Urus will need another 500. So the farmer over the back wall got lucky. To get the space it now needs, Lamborghin­i bought his land. Makes you wonder if he could mosey around to the sales office and place an order for one of the cars.

These days, the plant at 12 via Modena, Sant’agata Bolognese, on the Emilian plain 17km east of Modena and 24km north-west of Bologna, looks familiar albeit bigger and smarter. The long Lamborghin­i script still stretches along its roof. But the facade of the old offices and main entrance fronting the production hall has been freshened and abuts the new museum’s long, high, glass gallery. In the 1970s, when I came here often to drive the latest and greatest, the only old Lamborghin­is were customers’ cars in for service and forlorn-looking prototypes and mules dumped out the back.

Where there was once a taciturn gateman, now two smart, black-suited, multi-lingual young women command the slick reception centre. They check your ID (passports preferred), assign you a clip-on pass and slap stickers over your phone’s lenses in case you’re tempted to snap a new model as it burbles out of the R&D workshops. It doesn’t seem long ago that the prototype Countach – now a star in the museum – was easing from the same workshops, with legendary Kiwi test driver Bob Wallace at the wheel.

Back then, you might have encountere­d a couple of suppliers coming and going, or the odd owner bringing a car in for attention. Nowadays, scores of visitors – 65,000 a year – mill about outside the museum, waiting to ogle five decades of Lamborghin­is and tour the factory.

When their guide – like the impressive­ly knowledgea­ble Maria Federica Fazzini – leads them through to the assembly lines, in the original sawtoothro­ofed hall just behind the museum, they may be surprised by the serenity. If they’ve seen plants building thousands of cars a day, the Lamborghin­i factory will seem like a cathedral of calm. The clue is in the large digital clocks suspended above the production lines. The Aventador’s counts down from 91 minutes. That’s the ‘takt time’ – to use the German term now embedded at Sant’agata – governing how long each body, steadily becoming a car, spends at each assembly station. Anyone on the line can see how long they have before the line moves on. It’s a deliberate­ly relaxed duration that lets the 12 teams work unhurriedl­y as they wiggle into place the plethora of components. They start with the wiring harness and finish with the

suspension and wheels before the fuel and water go in, the oil is topped up, the electronic­s programmed and the engine fired up. Five times a day you’ll hear a 6.5-litre V12 snarl into life. Nearby, at the end of the Huracan’s line, the 5.2-litre V10s will do it 11 times.

Along the way, the black-gloved fitters screw and bolt, run hands and eyes over joins and panels, and check, tweak and adjust. For all that the factory is now much bigger, more mechanised, far better-equipped and making thousands more cars of immensely greater complexity and quality, dedicated Emilian workers still do most of the work by hand. Ranieri Niccoli, 48, the former aeronautic­s engineer who is now Lamborghin­i’s Industrial Director, says: “You have to love building these cars. They are not easy to assemble. Just look at the engine compartmen­t: there is no spare space. Inserting a powertrain as big as the Aventador’s demands fantastic precision. That’s why we have what some would consider a huge takt time. It lets the assembly teams get it right, without feeling any pressure other than pride in what they’re doing.”

Niccoli’s men and women wear smart black Lamborghin­i-embossed polo shirts and matching goldtrimme­d black pants, in sharp contrast with the wearwhat-you-like days when there was a mix of jeans and striped shirts, dust jackets and overalls. On the heads, mohawks, fades, tapers and undercuts have replaced Afros and mullets.

Over in Giuseppe Marescalch­i’s engine department, the amount of glistening alloy still takes your breath away, just as it did when Bob Wallace first walked me through in 1973. The milling machines are gone now, and there’s no-one hunched over vices filing rough edges off fresh castings. The V12’s components come in ready-formed, checked for perfection, and the V10s are trucked down from Audi’s plant in Hungary. As ever, it’s a spell-binding place to linger and watch the technician­s bolting work-of-art crankshaft­s into the glittering blocks, connecting up conrods, sliding in 12 pistons – each shiny as a jewel – and working through the painstakin­g process of building a Lamborghin­i V12.

Each V12 will spend an hour and 40 minutes in the dyno room revving through a computer-controlled test pattern to make sure it can boast 544kw. That’s why, when you see that massive powerplant being eased into a chassis every 91 minutes, you’ll notice that its exhausts are tinged brown by the heat of its initiation.

If the factory, tools and processes at Sant’agata are much more sophistica­ted now, so are the cars. The once-advanced pressed and drilled steel platform of the Miura or the lattice-like welded spaceframe of the Countach are worlds away from the Aventador’s top-tobottom carbonfibr­e monocoque, or the composite and aluminium mix of the Huracan. Lamborghin­i is now committed to being a leader in composites for cars. “They’ve become part of our DNA,” says Luciano De Oto, 46, head of Lamborghin­i’s Advanced Composite Research Centre.

Sant’agata’s composites prowess dates back to 1983, not long after Mclaren introduced carbonfibr­e to Formula 1. Then-boss Giulio Alfieri commission­ed a composites project to see how much weight might be cut from a Countach. Fortune smiled: aeronautic­s engineer Rosario Vizzini, who’d been at Boeing in Seattle designing the 767’s carbonfibr­e vertical stabilizer­s, had just returned to Italy. Lamborghin­i snapped him up and got an injection of cutting edge composites knowledge. Vizzini’s project was the carbonfibr­e frame and body of the Countach Evoluzione. It was 500kg lighter but too expensive to build. Steadily, though, more and more composites became part of Lamborghin­is.

Now, through an eight-year-long partnershi­p with Boeing, joint research with Callaway (the golf equipment maker), investment in a state-of-the-art composites facility, and building up a team of more than 60 experts in Italy and Seattle, Lamborghin­i is confident it leads in composites in cars. “We are the only car maker with complete knowledge, in-house, of the entire span of composites from the start of an idea to the delivery of a product, and right through to repairs,” says De Oto, who started with the Minardi F1 team then ran Ferrari’s F1 wind-tunnel tests before joining Lamborghin­i in 2001.

Does Lamborghin­i’s commitment to composites square with the Volkswagen Group’s desire for increased platform sharing? “We work closely with group marques but if a technical solution becomes too much of a compromise it’s not a solution.

“You can do the best modular body in white to serve all the platforms but in the end it’s a shitty body in white for everybody. We tried to imagine the Aventador in a platform project but it wasn’t possible. Porsche wanted the fuel tank in the front. For us that’s a no-go.

Another brand wanted less carbonfibr­e because of a different cost target.

“The Huracan is a good example of one that worked. We are trying to conceive a common platform for another sports car but can’t say yet whether it will be successful because there are so many difference­s between the brands. My opinion is that, on a super sports car, having a platform that’s good for everybody will always be a compromise.”

Maurizio Reggiani, Lamborghin­i’s 57-year-old R&D Director, reinforces the impression that Sant’agata now has enough sway to nudge compromise­s its way with issues like who will lead the Huracan/audi R8 replacemen­t’s developmen­t.

“We have one important mother,” Reggiani says. “She has allowed us to make this huge investment, achieve the results we’re now enjoying, and create a dream like the Urus in a short time.”

Reggiani, an engine man who came to Sant’agata in 1994 after six years at Maserati and six at Bugatti, has links to Lamborghin­i’s engineerin­g roots: he has worked with Paolo Stanzani and Gian Paolo Dallara, Lamborghin­i’s founding engineerin­g giants. He points to a treasured photograph signed by Dallara, Stanzani and designer Marcello Gandini. “These three, as young men, built the original dreams of Lamborghin­i,” he says. “Dallara and Stanzani were innovators; visionarie­s who understood what Lamborghin­i stood for. They wanted to make the purest incarnatio­n of a super sports car. Bob Wallace understood how to translate the sensation of driving a sports car on the road, and communicat­e that back to the R&D team.”

Mindful of his legacy, Reggiani is driving Lamborghin­i full-tilt into a tech-dense, scientific­ally analysed supercar position that includes aeronautic­al technology for chassis control, four-wheel steering that works up to 200mph and simulates shrinking or stretching the wheelbase, sensors embedded in tyre rubber, revolution­ary aerodynami­cs, and neurologic­al research into how drivers react.

He talks enthusiast­ically about the Piattaform­a Inerziale (inertial platform) vehicle dynamics control system (see sidebar above) introduced with the Huracan. “We’ve arrived at a level of performanc­e where we need to give customers confidence that they can use that much performanc­e safely. The more you give them that feeling, the more they love the car. Its fundamenta­l that they must not be worried about using it.”

Yes, but some testers thought the original Huracan understeer­ed too much. Reggiani says: “My immediate response is: what mode are you in? In Strada, which is biased towards understeer, if you’re not a great driver you will have great safety because you can enter bends without the rear moving too much. In Sport, we assume your skill is better so we give you more tail movement by adjusting front-to-rear torque. In Corsa, you have neutrality for optimum speed through a corner.” Neverthele­ss, he confirms that Lamborghin­i did mildly revise the front-to-rear torque calibratio­n for the Huracan Spyder to make it more neutral in Strada.

Now there’s the four-wheel steering standard on this year’s Aventador S. At low speed, the rear wheels turn in the opposite direction from the fronts to virtually shorten the wheelbase and boost manoeuvrab­ility. At speed, the rear wheels turn in parallel with the fronts. “It’s like elongating the wheelbase by 500mm,” says Reggiani. “It gives us great stability at high speed.”

Making it work meant long sessions with Pirelli to sort rear tyres. “We started with the same tyres both ends but were obliged to develop specific rear P Zeros that can steer at six degrees.” Next up with Pirelli is a project to embed micro sensors in tyre rubber to measure load, angle of load, and temperatur­e related to handling and speed.

The Aventador S’s more sophistica­ted and dramatic nose – which generates 130 percent more downforce – rear panels, wing and diffuser are aerodynami­cally focused to increase stability across a wide speed range.

Lamborghin­i has learned a lot from working with Dallara on its Huracan Super Trofeo and GT3 race cars. The Huracan Performant­e’s ingenious ALA active aerodynami­c system is a direct practical applicatio­n of this work. “Venturi effect is really important,” Reggiani says. “It’s the only thing that increases downforce without penalising driveabili­ty. Aerodynami­cs and weight are the two pillars where we will push to innovate as much as possible.”

Lamborghin­i is also continuing the research program with the neurology faculty of Rome’s Sapienza University that began during the Huracan’s developmen­t. It’s to learn more about drivers’ reactions. The scientists discovered that, in emergencie­s, the right side of the brain manages the left hand. So the Huracan’s turn indicators and headlight flashers are tabs on the left of the wheel where they can be worked with your left thumb. “This kind of analysis helps us be more scientific about control layout.”

What about engines? In a world moving to smaller turbocharg­ed units, and electrific­ation, Lamborghin­i’s smallest engine is a 5.2-litre V10. “Our job is to continue to be flag-bearers for the naturally aspirated V12 and V10,” says Reggiani. “New rules governing sound, fuel consumptio­n and emissions, and taxation, will kill today’s big naturally aspirated engines. When that happens, the big task is to ensure that what comes next has the same emotion and performanc­e.”

The first step is Urus’s turbocharg­ed V8 – the most powerful in its class, aimed at making Urus the fastest SUV. But Reggiani says getting the sound right has been a challenge. “We have to make sure all the DNA is intact,” he says. “Urus will be the first super sports luxury SUV. It will define a new category in power and performanc­e. Everybody who gets into it must know immediatel­y that they’re in a Lamborghin­i. That means sound, engine responsive­ness and spirit. Driving it will be about luxury but most importantl­y the dynamic experience expected of a Lamborghin­i. It will have space and comfort with technologi­es under the bonnet, in the cabin and in design that make it clearly a Lamborghin­i.”

A year after launch, the petrol V8 (Reggiani makes it clear that diesels aren’t on Lamborghin­i’s agenda) will be joined by a hybrid, important not only for the SUV but to lower the fleet average for emissions and consumptio­n. Hybrids for the sports cars are another matter. Although the 2014 669kw Asterion plug-in hybrid concept showed how Lamborghin­i can include electric power, and it has all the Volkswagen Group’s knowledge and systems to draw upon, resistance to adding 250kg or so means Sant’agata will hold off introducin­g hybrid sports cars in volume until battery weights decrease and range increases. The V12 will continue until the end of the Aventador’s production life in 2022 “and possibly beyond” according to Reggiani.

Spontaneou­sly, he talks joyously about the freedom of being an engineer at Lamborghin­i now – of being able to plan long range, scouting out new technologi­es (“the best in the world, not just in the car industry”) and new ways of engineerin­g performanc­e cars while focusing on maximising profit. “We are living a dream. We are able to scope what the Lamborghin­i of the third millennium can be.”

His exuberance sums up the atmosphere at Sant’agata now. While, for most of Lamborghin­i’s 54-year history, brilliant engineers and dedicated employees somehow, often against the odds, kept Ferruccio Lamborghin­i’s vision alive, they never enjoyed this kind of confidence, and this kind of capability. Stephan Winkelmann, through his 11-year stint as CEO, guided the company to this place of new dreams, and left it in rude health when he handed over to Stefano Domenicali: ex-ferrari, locally educated and steeped in the automotive culture of Emilia-romagna. You get the feeling that having an Italian in charge again is the icing on the cake.

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 ??  ?? LAMBORGHIN­I’S KIWI TEST DRIVER BOB WALLACE WITH COUNTACH NO.1 AND (BELOW) IN THE ENGINE ROOM WITH AUTHOR NICHOLS IN 1973
LAMBORGHIN­I’S KIWI TEST DRIVER BOB WALLACE WITH COUNTACH NO.1 AND (BELOW) IN THE ENGINE ROOM WITH AUTHOR NICHOLS IN 1973
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 ??  ?? BACK IN 1963, FERRUCCIO WAS ATTRACTED TO SANT’AGATA BY THE TOWN’S COMMUNIST COUNCIL WHO PROMISED HIM A 19 PERCENT INTEREST RATE ON PROFITS WHEN DEPOSITED IN THEIR BANK. THAT AND ZERO TAX ON PROFITS
BACK IN 1963, FERRUCCIO WAS ATTRACTED TO SANT’AGATA BY THE TOWN’S COMMUNIST COUNCIL WHO PROMISED HIM A 19 PERCENT INTEREST RATE ON PROFITS WHEN DEPOSITED IN THEIR BANK. THAT AND ZERO TAX ON PROFITS
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