We set off again, now comfortable enough
with the vivid pace to take in some of our beautiful surroundings. Up here, you
take your chances weather-wise, but we’re fortunate enough to see the clouds
part and brilliant sunshine floods the cabin. The Diablo devours the long
straits of Rannoch Moor with ravenous pleasure. The sun’s rays highlight the
deep oranges of the wintry vegetation, and bounce off the myriad lochs, Lochans,
peat bogs and streams that illuminate this wilderness; there’s something
perverse about traversing this enlightened landscape in a car named Diablo,
emitting a soundtrack forged by his minions.
No such worries in Glen Coe, scene of
massacres and bloodshed through the ages. Formed from the remains of a super
volcano that erupted, the resultant Caldera – Spanish for cauldron – formation
is foreboding even at the height of summer. Up towards the northern edge on
Aonach Eagach lies the Devil’s Staircase, an old military route given its name
by the soldiers building roads under General Wade, because Satan was said to
put in an appearance to claim his own. Find yourself isolated up here and the
environment can change in a flash, but there’s little danger today: horsepower
has come a long way in the intervening centuries and all 492 of the
Lamborghini’s power us through.
The
Diablo devours the long straits of Rannoch Moor with ravenous pleasure
Just after Ballachullish we branch off on
the A828 and loop round to follow the West Coast tourist route south,
encountering only the remnants of the high season’s motorhome invasion. The
brooding claustrophobia of the glens is suddenly released as the VT spears
along this open coastal road. After the crossing at Loch Creran, the main road
is left behind in favor of one of this area’s best-kept secrets: a loch-side
route sparingly used by locals and the odd Forestry Commission worker. It’s an
undulating rollercoaster that runs along the eastern section through the
Barcaldine Forest.
Here the Roadster is in its element. The
steering is inspiring, but it’s the phenomenal level of traction that takes
your breath away, along with the barrage of noise resonating through the trees.
The suspension has anti-dive and antisquat geometry and, coupled with the VT of
the title – which stands for Viscous Traction – it helps the Diablo to redefine
the rules of the road. No longer are corners taken slow in/fast out, but fast
in/even faster out. Once the preserve of fire breathing rally machines and
their road going brethren, four-wheel drive was brought to the supercar world
by Lamborghini. “It transformed the car’s drivability by taming the power,”
says McCrindle. “You’d need to be a lunatic to get to its limits on a public
road.”
V12
has even more drama with no roof to muffle the noise
The system, developed in conjunction with
Steyr-Daimler-Puch, functions via a center differential with a viscous coupling
between front and rear axles. It’s pretty much rear-wheel drive most of the
time, with up to 29% of the power redirected to the front if traction is lost.
But this technology, coupled with the open top, didn’t come cheap: at launch in
1993 a VT cost $243,000, with its Roadster sibling weighing in at $262,500,
making it the most expensive model in the range. That’s $40,500 more than the
2wd cars and a full $75,000 ahead of the stripped-out SV, which soon became the
‘entry level’ Diablo.
After numerous runs alongside the loch,
McCrindle takes the controls a little further on at Inverlochy and is soon
pushing it along at a pulsating rhythm. The final journey back to Killin is a
mesmerizing drive on deserted tarmac. The Diablo handles each attack without a
hint of pendulum effect, and with only reasonable air ingress into the cabin –
although what it must be like at 200mph-plus is anyone’s guess.
Diablo
spears through glorious Highlands, vast 335/35 ZR17 rear tires give mighty
traction
Back at the hotel, with dinner out of the
way, we feverishly retrace the day’s exertions over a couple of nips of Scotch.
We retire to bed, but I can’t sleep. As soon as I close my eyes, I’m suddenly
transported back to the glen, attacking every crest and corner in my mind’s
eye, yet still barely uncovering the Diablo’s abilities. Wilder and more track-focused
cars were to follow – as did a face lifted Roadster, with more power and
faired-in headlights replacing the pop-ups – but that glorious open-top
symphony means it’s too late for me. In my dreams, I’ve already sold my soul to
this particular devil.
Hitting the track
Unlike his rivals, Ferruccio Lamborghini
never saw the need to commit his company to racing. This neglected the fact
that a competition arm that provided race preparation for privateers would have
yielded some much-needed extra business. It wasn’t until 1996, when the
production line had dwindled to one model – the Diablo – that it finally put
rubber to track.
Developed for the Philippe Charriol Super
Sport Trophy – part of the Global Endurance GT Series – the SVR (above right)
featured a strengthened chassis, uprated suspension and brakes, wider wheels
and a roll-cage. Power rose to 550bhp and the predominantly amateur buyers also
received a kit comprising safety gear, a new exhaust and a range of aerodynamic
parts. The $262,500 price-tag included two seasons racing at various historic
tracks, all running expenses plus accident repairs, and you got to keep the car
at the end of it.
For ’99 it evolved into the 590bhp GTR
(right), which continued to compete in FIA GTs until well after the 2001 launch
of the Murciélago.
