LP500 Prototype
In our opinion the LP500 prototype is the purest of Gandini's designs - and represents a beautiful mix of edge and flow. Designated for its 5.0 litre V12 engine, it was launched at Geneva in 1971 - but was compromised practically for the lack of those trademark shoulder mounted gapes on later editions. The almost feminine, sculptural quality of the rear three quarters contrasts sharply with the more brutal later iterations too. Like many concepts, it was never going to work out there on the hot roads of the Veneto. Apparently the one-off original was crash tested to death. How's that for an Italian-Job style moment of automotive tragedy?

LP400
The first production Countach, which hit the streets in 1974, was a subtle evolution from the prototype - but one that retained a majority of the purity of flow - edged with the shoulder scoops and slightly altered panel geometry. The distinctive louvred engine cowlings, light clusters and snoop nosed stance that are visible today in all production Lambos is present for the first time. I'll take mine in yellow, please.

LP400S
In 1978, with less that 200 Countachs on the roads, an upgraded S model was introduced, with slightly less horsepower, a more macho, aggressive stance was created by fatter Pirellis, fibreglass arches an optional rear wing. There were various transitional models where ride height, alloy configuration, engine tweaks and interior styling details were introduced. The Countach was now reeking of testosterone. And is that a hint of Brut 33?

LP500S & 5000QV
This is the first manifestation of the full blown early-mid eighties version of the Countach that set our Ben Oliver's heart a-flutter. Now the V12 was bored to 5.2 litres - and each of the cylinders blessed with four valves. That's 48 of the damned things! The upgraded engine meant that a new lump and bumps were created that put paid to any rear visibility at all - but body styling louvres, shades and scalps made this the quintessential monster of 1980s yore. Greed was good. And the Countach was greedy for attention.

Countach 25 Anniversary
This was a step too far with the Countach. Influenced by Ferrari's competitor in the Testarossa, there were side-skirts, louvres and restyled rear lights that watered down the brutality - and therefore the Countach's essence. You can see the evolution of the Countach into its successor the Diablo, however, and for that it's an interesting design study.

It should probably come as no surprise that the designer of the Lamborghini Countach – the most futuristic of cars – has little time for past glories.

He would rather think than talk.

Marcello Gandini creator of the Lamborghini Countach, is a legend of automotive design. His career spans five decades and includes iconic work for Alfa, Fiat and Maserati - as well as the outrageously wedgie Lancia Stratos. His name is, however inexorably linked to Lamborghini and the Countach in particular.

And when he does stop to look back, it’s with modesty.

“I do not have the habit to associate a drawing to the end result obtained,” he has told press. “I am not bound to the success of a particular car, rather the memory of the persons that collaborated to the project and the circumstances under which they were created”.

The son of a musician, composer and conductor, Gandini too was driven artistically, with conventions and practicalities less important to the young designer than the production of something…different.

The Countach was Gandini’s follow up to the era-defining Miura, his first design for Gruppo Bertone since joining in 1965 as a replacement for Georgetto Guigario who had recently left to join Ghia. There is some controversy over the stylistic origins of the Miura, although Gandini is happy to acknowledge the influence of Guigario.

“The Miura was very like a Giugiaro car in some detail,” Gandini says. “Its lines were quite soft and it had similarities to cars he had done previously – the Maserati Ghibli, De Tomaso Mangusta and Iso Grifo. But what shows my stamp, I feel, is the effort to make the car into an integrated shape, not just a top and a bottom, as so many cars of the time had. The side-scoops, in particular, were intended to give the car a kind of global shape.”

But the Countach was pure Gandini, a design that perfectly evoked what it meant to be a supercar in the 1970s and 80s. Exotic. Fast. Quirky. And ridiculously expensive.

Of all the Countach’s unique style points it was the futuristic scissor doors which left an indelible mark, an aesthetic that spoke to the dreamers and the speed demons, the kids with the poster on their wall. Meanwhile the engineers had their work cut out. But ultimately the Countach achieves its status for its style rather than it’s performance. It’s instantly recognisable, unique in many respects & epitomises the brash ethos of the supercar. All perfectly apt for a car named after an Piedmontese expression of delight, usually uttered as a beautiful women walks by, but in the case of the Countach, the response from Nuccio Bertone after first laying eyes of Gandini’s original sketches.

“Coun-tach!”

Let it feel fast. Please God, let it feel fast.

I'd been a little frightened of the Lamborghini Countach for as long as I'd been aware of cars generally, and it would have been a disappointment if, when I finally got to drive one after twenty-five-odd years of fear, it felt tame. It was an early-eighties LP500S, its 375 horsepower now sub-standard for a super-saloon and its just-sub-five 0-60 time now threatened by hot hatches.

I'd driven a Veyron before I drove a Countach, and you can't unlearn how it feels to get to 100mph in five seconds, and 60mph in less than three. But the Countach didn't disappoint. It didn't feel quick in the instant, torquey, aim-and-fire way of modern, often turbocharged supercars. It's far more grown-up than that; the combination of cammy engine and tall gearing requiring you to get your foot all the way in and keep it there to get the best from it, which in turn requires long open roads and massive testicles. Do that, and yes, it still feels fast - very fast - even today.

God knows what it felt like when the first LP400 arrived with the same power in 1974: like trying to steer a Saturn rocket down a country lane, probably. Flat-out, the absurdly heavy control weights - steering, pedals, gearchange - make sense: you need to know where you are. There's decent grip at both ends, talkative steering, firm-but-fine ride; even as it approached the end of its long life the Countach outhandled most rivals.

The brakes are rubbish though, and the cabin literally encapsulates everything Gordon Murray hated about compromised supercar design and sought to put right with the McLaren F1: offset pedals, a little wheel that rests between your bent knees, a roof that pushes your head down into your shoulders to create that extraordinary shape, and no visibility anywhere other than forward.

But like Franco says in The Gumball Rally, "the first rule of Italian driving: what's-a behind me is not important".

We stumbled across this story a while ago now, and have wanted to share it. Now, with our thread on the perennial and intriguing power of the Countach, the time is perfect!

Ken Imhoff, American engineer and car nut, built this amazing Lamborghini Countach replica from scratch in the basement of his own house after apparently becoming obsessed with the car after seeing it in the Cannonball Run.

Working long-hours in the basement of his own home, Ken designed and fabricated a space frame, hand formed the aluminium body panels, created the characteristic Lambo doors, added a Corvette C4 suspension as well as a Boss 351 V8 engine mated to a ZF-5 speed manual gearbox.

In other words, he did everything by himself from scratch!

Once he finished the car he had to hire a contractor to take down a part of the basement wall, excavate the ground to create a ramp and then pull the car out on the road.

Respect is due!

G to Ken's site for the updated story Ken Imhoff Engineering