The diva can dance

Here it is, the genesis of the supercar. A car that is celebrated for its innovative character and drop-dead looks. But isn’t the beauty queen status and all the folklore blinding us from the essential? How does it drive, and does it stand up to the legendary status? It’s time to take some risks and find out.

This escalated quickly. It’s just minutes since I arrived to the remote Caramulo village and I’m already driving up the mountains. I’m grabbing the Miura SV’s wheel with the confident demeanour of a kid on his first day of school. As I submit to the instructions of the photographer up ahead, from the corner of the eye comes the perfect outline of the scarlet Miura. I need to place myself inch perfectly if I want to avoid an embarrassing and extremely expensive “shoulder charge” on André Villas-Boas’ gorgeous Lamborghini.
Seconds later, the snapper’s gesture says we should overtake the camera-car. André puts the foot down to take the lead, and the sound of his V12 fills up the hills. My eyes wide up and my heart rate goes up a notch. I take a second to react before following him. I floor it and, strangely enough, I’m caught by surprise by the sound coming from “my” Miura! After all, the engine is right there, a span away from the back of my neck. Through the rear-view mirror I can see the carbs being open and unleashing the symphony. It’s a sound that fills your body, through the ears and through the pores. It resonates in your organs, and it ingrains your brain. It’s a caffeine shot, a gateway to a parallel reality. It’s a fantasy becoming real. I wonder whether I should have written part of this piece yesterday, before letting myself become intoxicated by the experience, but what is a Miura if not a thrill machine? How to describe it properly if not from the heart?

(…)

The nose is fast into the corners without being nervous – and it mustn’t be, when 56% of the weight is on the back wheels – and it’s very precise in its movements despite the weight distribution. On the back, the 255-inch-wide tires are just enough to stick the rear to the road, and enough to discourage you of finding its limits, because it looks like it would get a bit snappy. In fact, that’s something the Miura has in common with any mid-engined car of the 70 and 80’s, because they were designed for clean driving and not to be driven with hooligan manners, like those of today. No one can save me from the Miura’s temper except myself. That said, it is proving eager and gentle enough to endorse a spirited drive. The SV doesn’t feel menacing at all. The crystal-clear responses from the controls, the precision of its damping and the temptation of exploring the outer limits of that glorious engine, invite me to risk more than I thought I would. I want to be sensible, respectful, and responsible, but I want to push it. I want to scratch the surface. How good is it after all? Is it a driver’s car or a death trap?

(…)

This section is fast, with a few fast corners. We do a couple of recognition passes. We are now ready to go for it. Cameras on and Villas-Boas goes first. He’s not holding back much, as I need to floor the throttle to keep up. Engines echoing in the trees and walls, and that incredibly low car skimming the surface ahead of me. What a moment! We’re pushing in fourth, as we get to a challenging bit that must be handled in third, and which consists of a down left turn, quickly followed by a right-hander that goes over a little a crest. It’s just a few meters before entering that section that the red Miura’s stoplights flash for a while, before charging down. From here on, we can’t even think of touching the brakes! As I start going down I get a glimpse of André’s suspension compressing before he enters the right turn. I follow at the same speed and, as I feel the same compression on the SV, I sense the rear end twitching. It’s not a sideways moment, but enough to feel the weight transfer affecting my line, to the point that I instinctively turn the wheel straight.

As we stop up ahead I’ve already decided not to reveal the chill down my spine. But then André gets out of his car, grins at me and shoots: “That sequence down there… scary stuff!” Feeling reassured I admit it: “I’m happy it wasn’t just me…”
In his defense I must point out that the S tires are way narrower, but the coach is a much more experienced and talented driver than me, having entered a great number of races of many different kinds, from two to four wheels, from Dakar to the WRC. A true gentleman driver of the modern age.

Anyway, the conclusion to take away is the same, and one only: the Miura is not a car for beginners, as it demands a careful approach when the road becomes challenging. It’s probably at eight tenths that the chassis is its element: when you can explore the engine almost completely, without overwhelming brakes or tires. But although it doesn’t feel natural to drive the Miura on the limit, it’s worth saying that it feels much more agile, poised and efficient than a traditional grand tourer. Any prejudice I’ve had based in its lack of racing pedigree, is already behind. The Miura never went racing, but racing went into the Miura.

At the end of the day, the videographer asks me if I can do a run up the hill, so that he can record the sounds. “Of course. My pleasure!”
Up there, the skies are becoming orange. The warm light reflects on the hood shape. The baritone who lives back there does its solo, while the thin-rimmed wheel tells my fingertips the story of each turn. Hands relax and the last sun rays warm my face. It’s this journey’s zenith. So perfect that it almost feels like a movie. The notes of “On days like these” inevitably come to mind. Except this road is much better than that from “Italian Job”, and so is this Miura.

I can’t deny the feeling of relief as I turn of the engine for the last time, knowing everything went fine. I look at the Miura again, with serenity. From now on, our relationship is platonic once again. Unlike the character in the novel, I don’t feel the Miura should be ugly to be appreciated as the extraordinary driving machine it is. Because the balance between the thrills suggested by the looks, and those the car actually delivers, are the essence of the supercar concept. A concept born with this very model 50 years ago, and will never go out of fashion.

Special thanks to André-Villas Boas and Museu do Caramulo.

The complete article was originally published in Auto Italia
Photos by Photos by Stéphane Abrantes – Deep Spirit Media