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Lamborghini Urus SUV traces roots to a feline predecessor

The recently-revealed Urus isn't Lamborghini's first SUV. The LM002 pioneered the super-4x4 segment when it made its debut at the 1986 Brussels Auto Show. Tracing its history requires traveling to the mid-1970s, when Ferruccio Lamborghini sold the automaker that he founded and retired in the countryside to hunt and make wine. The new owners had practically no experience in building cars. Instead of expanding the lineup, they sought to land engineering and production contracts. Lamborghini teamed up with an American defense contractor named Mobility Technology International (MTI) to create an off-roader for the United States Army. The partnership spawned a vehicle named Cheetah, unveiled at the 1977 Geneva Auto Show. The Cheetah looked like a Meyers Manx buggy on steroids that ate Jeep CJ-7s for breakfast. The shape of the body gave it unusually high approach and departure angles, while the flat body panels facilitated the task of installing body armor. "Like the cat for which it is named, this high-performance vehicle has explosive acceleration, high speed and sure-footed agility over virtually all terrain," a period brochure claimed. The Cheetah could certainly tame Mother Nature's worst side, but the brochure exaggerated its performance credentials. Power came from the same 5.9-liter Chrysler 360 V8 engine found in Dodge's D-Series trucks. Lamborghini mounted it in the back, and its 183-horsepower rating contributed to a woeful power-to-weight ratio. The eight-cylinder spun all four wheels via an automatic transmission also found on Chrysler's parts shelf. Lamborghini didn't secure the Army's contract. The automaker stood on the brink of collapse. An Italian court took control of the company after it filed for bankruptcy in 1978, and a Swiss entrepreneur later came to the rescue. The new management saw an immense amount of potential in the Cheetah and relaunched the project. Decision-makers spotted an opportunity to enter the burgeoning leisure vehicle segment. Notably, they identified a market for a Cheetah-like car in the Middle East, where a Countach was unpractical at best and a Nissan Patrol was far too pedestrian for oil barons. Lamborghini unveiled a prototype named LM001 at the 1981 Geneva Auto Show. It took the Cheetah concept a step further with an updated look, though it retained the rear-mounted engine. Built as a development mule, it illustrated the limits of a rear-engine off-roader.

Rare early Lamborghini Countach sells for record $1.2 million

Lamborghini may have made headlines with the highly exclusive, $4.5-million Veneno and the even more expensive Veneno Roadster that followed, but when it comes to classics sold at auction, their prices seldom approach the kind of figures attained by rare classics made by arch-rival Ferrari. Early 350 GTs and rare Miuras (like the SV prototype Gooding sold a few years ago for a record $1.7 million) have been known to breach the seven-figure mark, but now the Countach is making its way into the big leagues as well.
Pictured here is a rather exceptional early example sold by Bonhams in Connecticut last week. This 1975 Lamborghini Countach LP400 "Periscopica" - so dubbed for the unique rearview mirror fitted to the first 150 examples made - has just over 10,000 miles on the odometer. With flawlessly retouched Blu Tahiti (read: French racing blue) paint and an immaculate deep tan leather interior, the Periscopica was the subject of feverish bidding before selling for $1.2 million to a buyer present at the auction, beating out a dozen or so telephone bidders.
The record price for a Countach trumps the previous record, also set by Bonhams at the Quail Lodge last August, where another '75 Periscopica sold for $836,000. The rising prices surely reflect the coming of age for the Countach, now nearly 40 years since its introduction - particularly for the generation that grew up idolizing it as the prototypical supercar. Scope it out in the artful gallery of 76 high-resolution images above and the details of the auction below.

Lamborghini Miura Retro Review: What it's like to drive the original supercar

“Glon, youÂ’re in the Miura.” Hang on, IÂ’m in what now? About a minute later, I have the keys to a 1973 Lamborghini Miura SV finished in Oro Metallizzato. Five minutes later, IÂ’m annoyed by the frosty winter air whooshing onto my face but too enthralled by the V12Â’s noise to close the window. The person who coined the phrase “never meet your heroes” clearly hasnÂ’t been let loose in the original supercar, a model of paramount importance in the pantheon of automotive history. Unveiled in 1966, and positioned above the 400 GT as LamborghiniÂ’s range-topping model, the Miura may as well have landed from a far, unexplored corner of the galaxy. It stretched about 172 inches long, 69 inches wide, and merely 41.5 inches tall, dimensions that gave it proportions more closely aligned with todayÂ’s definition of a supercar than with the crop of GTs whizzing by in the left lane of the Italian autostrada in the 1960s. I canÂ’t say that the Miura broke with tradition, Lamborghini didnÂ’t have much in the way of tradition three short years after its gutsy inception, but it looked nothing like the 400 GT. Highly respected Italian designer Marcello Gandini penned the Miura while working for Bertone. Its Fiat 850 Spider-sourced headlights were mounted nearly flat, its door handles were integrated into a column of fins, and its roof line peaked above the seats before flowing into a Kammback-like rear end. Mamma mia! It may look humble parked next to an Aventador, but its design was revolutionary in the 1960s. Equally revolutionary was the technical layout. While the 400 GT — and most high-end GTs sold during this era — were fitted with a front-mounted engine, the MiuraÂ’s 3.9-liter V12 was positioned directly behind the passenger compartment. Odder still, it was mounted transversally. Some historians claim that the inspiration for this arrangement was the original Mini, which stretched just 120 inches long thanks in part to a transverse-mounted engine. The MiniÂ’s role in shaping the Miura has never been proven, but whatÂ’s certain is moving the engine back and turning it 90 degrees changed LamborghiniÂ’s history. More than simply a new model for what was then a small, obscure company, the Miura became nearly a deity in the automotive stratosphere. It blazed the course that dozens of supercars have followed since. Rejigging the proportions required rearranging the interior.