Octane

LAMBORGHIN­I DIABLOS

As the Diablo celebrates its 30th anniversar­y, Octane drives the first and last to examine how this remarkable car evolved to keep Lamborghin­i alive during a tumultuous decade

- Words Massimo Delbò Photograph­y Max Serra

From first to last: the inside story of Sant’Agata’s greatest comeback car

Ivividly remember the first time I drove a Lamborghin­i Diablo. It was about ten years ago, a facelifted 6.0-litre with 517bhp. The moment I floored the gas pedal, and the revcounter flashed past 3000rpm for the first time, I suddenly felt the force of its endless power pushing hard and realised how wonderfull­y brutal the Diablo could be. I was impressed – no, hooked – because of the transforma­tion of the character of this car, docile and smooth up to 3000rpm and fierce and full of energy from there on up, building to a crescendo and becoming more incredible, more challengin­g with every passing millisecon­d. Above 5000rpm, well, that was new territory for me. It was beyond a force of nature.

As with human beings, character comes not only with breeding, but also with experience and developmen­t. The early life of the Diablo was anything but easy; the fact that it existed at all is evidence enough of how this car had fought against adversity since its conception. And back in 1986, Sant’Agata Bolognese, the home of Lamborghin­i, was not a happy place, following years of turmoil within the business.

After the amazing success of the 1966 Miura, which catapulted the then-three-year-old firm onto the podium of supercar manufactur­ers, then came a series of new models entering production with a rapid turnover, the first ‘Miura replacemen­t’ being shown as early as 1971. A mix of show car and test mule with a longitudin­ally mounted 5.0-litre V12, the LP 500 went on to be launched, after major revisions, as the Countach in 1973. Social instabilit­y, the oil crisis and financial problems in the tractor business forced company founder Ferruccio Lamborghin­i to sell his beloved car company a year later.

By 1978 Automobili Lamborghin­i was broke and fell under the auspices of the Italian Court, in a desperate hearing that aimed to save the company – and the much-needed employment it generated. In 1980, in a receiversh­ip sale, Lamborghin­i was bought for $3million by long-term customers, the Swiss brothers Jean-Claude and Patrick Mimran. The latter became its president and CEO, and his efforts were sufficient to generate new models: the Jalpa, developed from the Urraco (see last issue), and the crazy off-road LM 002, intended to complement the continuing success of the still outrageous Countach.

‘I suddenly felt the force of its endless power and realised how wonderfull­y brutal the Diablo could be’

Mimran, however, understood that the Countach was becoming more difficult to homologate in various markets, and was showing its age. A replacemen­t was needed. And so the technical father of the Diablo,

Ingegnere Luigi Marmiroli, was hired in January 1985. He’d been born in 1945 in Fiorano Modenese, not so far from where Ferrari would develop its private racetrack, and close enough to the Maranello factory that he grew up surrounded by the noise of the 12-cylinder cars. He was steeped in supercar from birth.

‘My birthplace imprinted on me,’ he tells me. ‘Just after graduating, I went to work for Ferrari’s racing department.’ He left after about six years to open his own engineerin­g company for the design and management of racing cars on internatio­nal circuits: Formula 1, Formula 2, Formula 3, Sports Prototypes and so on. The main customers were Autodelta and Alfa Romeo, Copersucar-Fittipaldi, Ensign, ATS, private Porsche teams and Minardi. In 1983 he took over technical responsibi­lity for Alfa Romeo’s Formula 1 team, leaving at the end of 1984 after Carlo Chiti left. He had a great CV and the timing was perfect.

‘This new challenge was very appealing to me,’ says Marmiroli, ‘but before I started working for them, I spent a day with Ferruccio, at his farm, just to understand the spirit behind the company. The beginning was very slow, but suddenly I got the green light and everything moved forward very quickly. In six or seven months a car was ready to be tested and developed. Inside the company everybody was crazy for cars, with a lot of ability and knowledge, and it was very easy to work and collaborat­e. I still remember the feeling when,

on 17 April 1987, the very first prototype, an ugly grey test car, lapped twice around the factory building. Mr Mimran was there, a Champagne bottle was popped… We were working day and night. During the day inside the office; at night, to avoid photograph­ers and too many witnesses, road testing.’

But ownership changed in late 1987, when Lamborghin­i became part of Chrysler Motor Company. ‘The project went on just as fast, if not faster than before. We were in a strange position: the guys from Chrysler were really happy and respectful of our jobs, but they had 350 people in the design department alone, when we had a single “outsourced” guy named Marcello Gandini. We had technical meetings with 15 of them and one or two of us, and that was very scary. Chrysler liked the project, but was not completely satisfied about the style of the car: it was too extreme for their tastes, and they asked for modificati­ons. They were right because, thanks to that, the Diablo went on for so many years and is still fresh-looking today.’

Corporate Chrysler, in charge of the independen­t spirits at Lamborghin­i? ‘The profession­al relationsh­ip was always very good,’ says Marmiroli. ‘It was a win-win situation of us learning from them (mostly how to save money) and their team from us (they were all impressed by our passion). Iacocca was our godfather and this helped, but, even when he left, everything went on smoothly.’

The Diablo, on sale from January 1990, had such a strong appeal that it survived the transition of ownership – quite the miracle in the car industry, especially in the supercar market. Not that its birth was ever easy. ‘With the developmen­t of Project 132 – its internal code name – the major issue was investment in research and developmen­t activities. As an example, the first target we had was an increase

‘Iacocca was our godfather and this helped, but even when he left, everything went on smoothly’ – LUIGI MARMIROLI

in horsepower. Ferrari had the F40 and we couldn’t be less powerful. We changed all we could in the Countach engine, although, to save money, we kept the Countach’s block and head castings. When we went to Nardò to test the car, capable of 492bhp, and we reached 325km/h [203mph], making it, officially, the fastest production car available, we were the happiest guys on Earth.

‘We even risked our lives driving to the wind tunnel in Paris – Turin was not an option because of our competitor­s. To save the cost of a truck, we headed to Paris in our front-wheeldrive Lancia Thema, pulling a trailer with the prototype on. The trailer was too heavy for the Lancia and we went off the road. Everything was destroyed, except for the prototype!’

The Diablo was a smash hit, allowing the company to survive – again! – into new ownership, from 1994, under the Malaysian investment group Mycom Setdco and the Indonesian V’Power Corporatio­n. ‘From the beginning, we had worked on the developmen­t of the model,’ says Marmiroli. ‘An early example, for the 1992 Geneva motor show, was the Roadster Concept, a one-off barchettas­tyle Diablo, and then what became the fourwheel-drive VT, which entered production in 1993. I still remember that the viscouscon­trolled four-wheel drive system was quite an issue to develop as we were all new on this, and we started from a very basic position. It ended up being so good that the system is still essentiall­y in use today. I’m very proud of my work on the original Diablo of 1990, and also my work on the majority of its 17 amazing sons, including prototypes, racing cars, show cars, anniversar­y models and more.’

The Diablo survived another – final – change of ownership in 1998, when Audi Group bought Lamborghin­i and decided that the car, then eight years old, was still too good to be killed off and planned instead for a restyle. Audi employed Luc Donckerwol­ke, the first chief designer to work within the company itself rather than as a freelance, like Gandini. Under the new culture of competence and financial wellbeing, the Diablo evolved. It sported smoother details, a revised nose

(no pop-up headlights any more) and a more luxurious interior, plus a more powerful 529bhp engine, with variable valve lift, and ABS for the brakes. The last Diablo left the production line in 2001, replaced by the Murciélago, after almost 3000 had been built. That was a company record, and a major achievemen­t given those shaky beginnings.

SUMMER 2020, northern Italy. Just after lockdown. In Sant’Agata Bolognese we collect one of the last Diablos ever built, car 42 of a final production run of (it’s believed) only 46 6.0 SE models, chassis number ZA9DE01A01­LA12898. With 550bhp and painted in Oro Elios, it’s still owned by the factory; it was never registered and is in ‘as new’ condition, with only a few thousand kilometres covered during its whole life.

Caraficion­ado founder Florian Seidl has driven south from Germany to meet us, just hours after the reopening of the borders. His 1991 Diablo is painted in Giallo, a very early car, chassis number ZA9DE07A0M­LA12327. ‘It was originally sold in Italy,’ says Seidl, looking at the mosquitos covering the front bumper, a trophy to be proud of after a nonstop 550km journey. ‘Its first owner had several Ferraris and Lamborghin­is. His estate sold the collection in 2014, and I bought the Diablo with about 17,000km on the clock.

‘The car was like new, just in need of a good service as it had been unused for several years. As with all the early Diablos, I had to replace the timing chain tensioners. Two of them are easy to reach, but the third is hidden so you have to remove the engine and dismantle it. I had this job done at Klassikers­chmiede, which is owned by good friend Hannes Jäger. Since then I have doubled the reading on the odometer without any issue.’

Another known weak point of the early Diablo is its ceramic catalytic converters. As they age, they tend to crack and can allow small particles to be ingested by the engine. ‘This is the reason why so many run without them, which in Germany is illegal. To play safe, when I decided to replace them, I used race catalysato­rs, installed back in the original pipes. They work perfectly while keeping the

car legal and environmen­tally friendly.’ Original spare parts were an issue until recently, but now Lamborghin­i Polo Storico is addressing the situation and pushing hard to develop availabili­ty. Driving around Tuscany, I soon appreciate how powerful and fast the Diablo is, even by today’s standards. The early car is wilder, lighter; the newer one, equipped with more substantia­l tyres, hugely bigger brakes and ABS, is far more refined, better assembled, and has much nicer manners – though its extra power is absorbed by greater weight.

‘On the Autobahn, its natural cruising speed is around 240km/h [150mph],’ says Florian. ‘If there isn’t traffic, you can go on forever at that speed, with the same effort you’d demand of a normal car doing about 160km/h. But, in a Diablo, you must never forget that the car is the boss. To challenge the Diablo you need to be a skilled Formula 1 driver, but it is such a great, fun car, that when you are out in it, you never regret your choice.’

I get behind the steering wheel of the 1991 car, the first time for me in such an early example, and immediatel­y recall the tingle in the stomach as I pass 3000rpm. The Diablo tends to follow ruts and undulation­s in the surface of the road, and Tuscany tarmac is not the smoothest, so you need to work hard to keep straight. The ten-years-younger 6.0 SE has the same attitude, but is less nervous and benefits from improved, adjustable, dampers.

What you can’t forget in either car is the soundtrack, just behind your head, of that 48-valve, four-cam V12, the legend of Sant’Agata. It raises the hairs on your like the climax of Pavarotti singing Nessun Dorma .It makes you feel as though the sky is the limit. But better make it a clear and cloudless sky: if it rains, maybe leave the Diablo at home and take the family Panda instead.

THANKS TO Lilya Dovbenchuk and Francesco Gulinelli of Automobili Lamborghin­i, Florian Seidl, and Stefano Buracchi of Villa Nottola.

‘The early car is wilder, lighter; the newer one is far more refined, better assembled and has much nicer manners’

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The Diablo’s profile changed little over its 11-year career, testament to how right Marcello Gandini got it first time out; cool interior features reclined driving position; 5.7-litre V12 is an all-time great.
Below and right The Diablo’s profile changed little over its 11-year career, testament to how right Marcello Gandini got it first time out; cool interior features reclined driving position; 5.7-litre V12 is an all-time great.
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In 1998, eight years on from the launch of the original Diablo, Audi took the reins and ordered a facelift, resulting in a smoother nose and a more luxurious interior – plus a capacity hike to 6.0 litres for the venerable V12.
Right, below and left In 1998, eight years on from the launch of the original Diablo, Audi took the reins and ordered a facelift, resulting in a smoother nose and a more luxurious interior – plus a capacity hike to 6.0 litres for the venerable V12.
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