A tale of genius and passion, on both sides of the ocean, starring personalities of the calibre of Marcello Gandini and Lee Iacocca: the heir of the Countach was not only the fastest production car ever built until that time, but was also what it took to transform the brand from Sant’Agata Bolognese into a technological company in step with the times. Leading this miracle was Luigi Marmiroli, the project manager who, forty years after the start of the works, agreed to tell us the "behind the scenes” Words and B&W Photography Alessandro Barteletti
Car Photography Paolo Carlini
Video Andrea Ruggeri
Archive Courtesy of the Luigi Marmiroli Archive
That year, the Marmiroli family had decided to spend their Easter holidays on Lake Trasimeno, one of the rare opportunities to enjoy some time all together. Aged just over forty, the mechanical engineer Luigi was always traveling around the world. He parked the motorhome near a large farm estate and asked his wife to wait there with their three children, while he continued on foot. It was 1985.
On that short trip from there to the gates of the estate, he couldn't help smiling. After all, his was a story of fate. He was born in 1943 on a farm in Fiorano Modenese, on the very land that would later be home to the Ferrari testing circuit. And it was precisely at Ferrari, after university, that he began his career as a designer. His was dumb luck. It was 1970, and he was put in charge of overseeing the introduction of computers, a matter that was as futuristic as it was complex. The Ferrari veterans, from Franco Rocchi to Walter Salvarani to Mauro Forghieri, had to go through him to translate their drawings and ideas into a language that could be managed by the modern computer. And that was how Marmiroli learned the secrets of building cars from the best.
In 1976, with his friend and colleague Giacomo Caliri, he set up Fly Studio, and soon became a consultant for Fittipaldi’s Copersucar, ATS, Minardi and Carlo Chiti, the former Ferrari engineer and then star of Autodelta, so all the Alfa Romeo racing history from the 1960s onwards. For Chiti and Autodelta those were the Formula 1 years, and Marmiroli found himself increasingly involved in the project, and indeed in 1983 was appointed technical director of Euroracing, the team that inherited the Alfa Romeo single-seaters.
After two years on the world circuits, the call came. During the 1984 San Marino Grand Prix, Marmiroli was approached in the pits in Imola: “Come and work for us,” a Lamborghini delegate asked him. “We have to develop the heir to the Countach.” And that’s how the incredible story of the supercar that would one day be called the Diablo began.
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When he arrived in Sant’Agata Bolognese, his first decision was the most honest and intelligent. For a few months, Marmiroli stood in the shadows and watched, studying and breathing in the Lamborghini air. And to complete the picture, there was just one more thing he had to do: go and meet the Founder. By the Seventies, Ferruccio Lamborghini had retired to Umbria, to the estate near where Marmiroli had parked his motorhome. This was the man who, with great determination and vision, or rather his authentic character, had given birth to a legend.
And the story of that legend is well-known: an acclaimed manufacturer of agricultural vehicles, one day Lamborghini was visiting Maranello and, as a customer of the Prancing Horse, he permitted himself to criticise the Commendatore's cars. Enzo Ferrari, another man with not the easiest character in the world, clapped back immediately: And what would you, a man who makes tractors, know? And so, in 1963, Ferruccio began to make cars. He did this until the early Seventies, but then the accounts didn't add up any more and he decided to move to Umbria, where he began to make wine.
“I bought a box of his famous red, Sangue di Miura,” Luigi Marmiroli tells me today. “In fact, I never drank it, I’ve still got it today, a souvenir.” Sitting opposite me, the engineer agreed to tell his story and the behind-the-scenes of the project that, more than all the others, he is still very fond of.
We are in a place for enthusiasts, a garage in the province of Padua that hosts the collection of Andrea Nicoletto, President of the Lamborghini Club Italia and owner of the Diablo chassis “No. 41”, the star of the photos in this article. One from the first series, red, in perfect condition and with a unique and original history: it was bought new by Alpine, the famous car hi-fi brand, and was used for its advertising campaigns at the time.
“Ferruccio was very hospitable, but I didn't tell him who I was,” Marmiroli continues. “He spoke with such enthusiasm that he gave the impression that the company was still his, when in fact he had left over ten years earlier. In his opinion, a Lamborghini should get a speeding fine even just sitting in a car park. What he meant by that was that a car deserved to bear his name only if it could arouse feelings of speed and high performance even without switching on the engine.” That was all Marmiroli needed to finally find the right direction to follow.
Being the worthy heir of the Countach was not the future Diablo’s only burden and honour. The new project – code name P132 – also had the responsibility of turning the company around. After Ferruccio, Lamborghini ended up in the hands of two Swiss businessmen and, at one point, risked bankruptcy. And then the French Mimran brothers came along. “And precisely at that time, came the period that I like to call the Lamborghini Renaissance,” Marmiroli confirms.
In the years when the Diablo was being designed, the climate at Sant’Agata warmed up again. “We started working on the style,” the engineer insists. Someone from inside chose Giugiaro, but when the Chairman Patrick Mimran received his proposal, he wasn't very keen. “I remember I was quite pleased, because I wanted to call in Marcello Gandini. Who better than the man who, from the Miura onwards, had unequivocally defined the Lamborghini style?”
According to Gandini, the new car had to be exclusive. As already happened when passing from the Miura to the Countach – two very different cars, and for this reason each with their unique style – it wasn’t so much the ‘family feeling’ but the uniqueness that counted. “Working with Gandini meant fully returning to Ferruccio’s philosophy. He too thought that the exceptional mechanics and technology under a beautiful cover had to be clearly understood at first glance.”
Gandini’s approach was more one of an engineer than a designer. “Rather than sketches, he started directly from the construction plan, drawing a 1:1 car with all the lines. His staff then made the model starting from these huge drawings. When he presented us with the first full-scale scale model, the approval at Lamborghini was unanimous.”
In April 1987 came the first running prototype. “We renamed it the P0 and painted it an anonymous mousy grey colour so that it didn't attract too much attention, and we camouflaged it with a few fake air intakes here and there. These were the means we had at the time to mislead the photographers and journalists who lay in wait behind a bend or a tree, looking for a scoop. On its first trip out, the prototype drove three times round the company.”
However, the Mimran management began to falter, as it didn't have the economic strength to carry on developing the project. By surprise, the French sold the company to the US Chrysler, whose boss was Lee Iacocca, the Ford Mustang man. “He was of Italian origin, and spoke our language, so it was an easy transition. Iacocca had a beautiful villa in Tuscany, and we set up a meeting there to compare Gandini’s style model with a Countach and a Ferrari Testarossa, the benchmark competitor at that time. He liked our proposal, but I got the impression that a company like Chrysler wanted to demonstrate a more concrete participation in the project.” When they said goodbye, the Americans asked the Lamborghini managers to make a few changes to the rear.
“So Gandini softened the tail, and we went back to Iacocca, but this time he had brought the managers from the Chrysler style centre. There seemed to be more of them than all the Lamborghini employees put together. On that occasion, it was decided to send the style model to the States, where two proposals would be made, one smoother and the other much more aggressive, which to me seemed outrageous compared to the original idea.”
Marmiroli and Gandini left for the States on what seemed a diplomatic mission, seeking to find a solution that was not disliked by Chrysler but which didn't betray the original idea.
“And we succeeded. I must say that the Americans played the tough guys, because they continued to churn out proposals. They used clay to create the style models. They spread it over and modelled it, really quickly. Iacocca was very decent, because in the end he called us to see all the Chrysler proposals and Gandini’s version, all lined up next to each other. He said: You choose, you have the final say. Our reply was obvious. We went back to Sant’Agata more than happy.”
And then Marmiroli had another idea: “Marcello, we’ve got to sign this,” I told Gandini. He was quite reserved, a bit of an introvert, but he accepted in order to avoid any misunderstandings and to underline the car’s Italian style. And so, on the right-hand side of the final car, we applied a plate with his name on it.”
A decision that was also the manifesto of an all-Italian philosophy. “There has always been a sense of belonging here, a kind of engagement, awareness and affection the workers have towards what they are creating. I firmly believe that this was a very important lesson for the Americans too.”
Technically, the car concept was based on the idea of top performance. “The layout of the Countach, with the longitudinal rear engine and the gearbox between the drivers, would also have worked well on the new car. But that was only the starting point, because in the end the only detail that the Diablo shared with her heir was the Lamborghini emblem on the front.” From the square-section trellis chassis to the V12 5.7 litre engine (that delivered 492 HP at 5200 rpm), from the gearbox to the differential, everything was re-designed.
And the P132 also had another merit. When Marmiroli came to Lamborghini, he was forced to make the first calculations with the computers at his Fly Studio, because in Sant’Agata they were still using drawing boards.
One step at a time, the engineer managed to introduce the calculation of the finished elements for the chassis, and CAD. “At the same time, we trained young engineers who then went on to become successful throughout Europe.”
In addition, the previous models were powered by carburettors, and this was a problem working in the United States because of the strict anti-pollution laws. “There was only one solution, to convert to electronic injection. Marelli worked with Ferrari, and didn't want to work with us. We tried with Bosch, who laughed when they heard our production figures. So we made a crazy decision, all in all, and made it in-house. We called it Lamborghini Electronic Injection, and it was brilliant. In those years we also introduced composite materials for various details on the bodywork, and did this with the help of a young guy called Horacio Pagani, who started out as one of our employees.”
We can say that the Diablo was the last Lamborghini to be tested old-style on the road. “We drove the first prototype round Sant’Agata at night. There were these long roads in the middle of the fields, and a petrol station that always had the light on, and we engineers camped out there. The car was test-driven by Valentino Balboni: when he was about to pass in front of us, we could hear the roar in the distance, and then we saw the car rocket past like a UFO.”
One night they stopped hearing that roar. “All of a sudden, silence. Coming from racing and the track, for me, not hearing the sound of the car engine on a test drive meant that something was wrong. I've always been very worried in those moments, until you see what has happened and have checked that everyone is fine. We raced over in the service car, there were no mobile phones in those days. We found Valentino standing outside the car, lit only by the moon. In Modenese dialect, which was our official language, he said: Engineer, nothing’s working here. The electric system had broken, so no headlights. He had stopped before he ended up in the middle of the fields.”
Having completed the development and the final prototypes, Lamborghini took on some new testers, notably including the name of Luigi Moccia. “We defined a route that left the company premises, went down the motorway and then along some minor roads. We covered thousands of kilometres, and every now and then our testers passed those from Maranello. It was absolutely forbidden to break the highway code, but I reckon that they had a few races every now and then… Those were the days.”
And then the tests began at the Nardò track in southern Italy. A tarmac ring used to test high-performance cars at their top speeds. “That was where we type-approved the Diablo at 325 km/h, so the first production car to reach that speed. I remember that day very well, it was a great celebration for everyone, and I remember another very curious episode. When the Diablo had been on sale for a while, I received a call from a French client: Ingénieur, at 300 km/hour, the windscreen wipers don't work. I replied: Sorry, you drive at that speed in the rain? His answer made perfect sense: Oh yes. You promised this performance, and at that speed the whole car has to work! We went back to Nardò and tried to recreate the same situation. And in fact, the wipers didn't move. So we started to add a few little fins here and there to deviate the air flow, until everything went like clockwork.”
While the car was being developed it was given the code name Progetto 132, but soon the time came to find a name worthy of a Lamborghini, also complying with the now-consolidated tradition of references to bull-fighting. “At the time there was nothing like a marketing department, which today would handle a question like this. I took the initiative and, with an eye on the past, I set a few ground rules. The names had to be short and immediately recognisable, possibly just two syllables, perhaps with a Spanish flair. I threw in a few Modenese words for good measure, like “Fulmen”, meaning lightening, so something really fast".
"I drew up a list of around thirty options on an A2 sheet of graph paper, the ones we used to draw our designs, I still have it. I sent it round the managers and employees of the company, asking them to tick their preference. In the end, the name Diablo got the most votes.”
The car was finally ready to be launched in early 1990. On 20 and 21 January, Montecarlo, the place chosen for the presentation, seemed like a branch of Sant’Agata. “We had organised a Lamborghini Day,” Marmiroli recalls. “The place was full of flags and Lamborghini cars, but nobody knew the real reason for the invitation sent out to the specialised press and sector experts from all over the world. Of course, Emile Novaro and Lee Iacocca were there, respectively the chairmen of Lamborghini and Chrysler.” Around a thousand people came to the presentation in the evening, and looking at the shape of a car hidden under a sheet on the stage, some people began to realise what it was all about.
“At one point, the lights faded and the Spanish tenor José Carreras sang Nessun Dorma from Giacomo Puccini's Turandot. When he got to Vincerò, Vincerò, red smoke filtered up from the ground and the Diablo was unveiled to the audience.”
Everyone wanted to see it close-up, and ran to the stage. “The floor began to wobble. Off, everyone off… someone cried. We literally had a few moments of panic, but all’s well that ends well. That day, Iacocca said that in all his years he had never seen such a thrilling presentation.”
The Diablo was produced for over a decade, from 1990 to 2001. The saga that, if we consider the years of design, with four different managers (the Mimran brothers, Chrysler, the Indonesian Megatech investors, and finally Audi) took Lamborghini from being a small trade business to a modern, technological company. Around three thousand Diablos were built, in seventeen different versions.
“There were three progenitors: the coupé on show at the presentation, with rear-wheel drive; the four-wheel drive VT with viscous coupling on the gearbox outlet; an open variant that we called Roadster. I should also mention the competition versions. First and foremost, the JLOC, for racing in Japan, and then the SV-Rs for the Lamborghini Super Sport Trophy, around thirty derived directly from the SV production version, having removed all the superfluous parts and adding safety features such as rollbars and extinguishers.” The engines and gearboxes were sealed so that nobody could tamper with them and so all the cars were the same: what made the difference was the driver. “And at the end of the championship, the parts could all be refitted on the car so that the owner could continue to enjoy their Diablo every day on the roads.”
Marmiroli gazes into the distance, and then smiles. “I want you to really understand the spirit driving this whole project,” the engineer says, returning to the day of the presentation in 1990 again and reciting the speech he made that day: “We come from a small town in Emilia Romagna surrounded by fog. We have come to Montecarlo to present you a project. To create this project, we used all the techniques and technologies you can imagine. We used the best computers, but this car is not the result of a computer. We did lots of tests in the wind tunnel, but this car is not the result of aerodynamics. The Diablo was designed and built by humans for other humans. This is our philosophy.”
Marmiroli stands up, strolls round the Diablo parked behind him and rests a hand on the bodywork, like a father fondly patting his daughter.
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Credits and Acknowledgments
The author, Alessandro Barteletti: A photographer and journalist with more than twenty years of experience, Alessandro has been capturing and telling the stories behind social, sports, and news events through both images and words. Driven by a lifelong passion for anything that goes fast—whether on the road or in the sky—he has specialized in motorsports, aviation, and space, collaborating with some of the leading industry magazines and creating exclusive projects for National Geographic, Dallara Automobili, and the Italian Air Force. Throughout his career, he has accumulated several flight hours as a photographer aboard jets and military aircraft, including Eurofighter, MB339, M346, AMX, and others. A photography teacher, his work has been exhibited at galleries around the world on several occasions. Alessandro was born in Rome, where he currently lives.
The photographer, Paolo Carlini: He is a professional photographer from Milan with over thirty years of experience. He is a member of the Order of Journalists and the National Association of Professional Photographers Tau Visual. Specializing in commercial imagery, he has worked with prominent clients both in Italy and internationally. Carlini has captured portraits of artists, designers, and entrepreneurs, which have been exhibited in prestigious shows. He has also published photography books and shares his expertise through workshops and courses. Paolo Carlini is a respected figure in the world of photography.
The videomaker, Andrea Ruggeri: He was born in Rome. He collaborates with magazines and companies as freelance photographer and videomaker. His pictures and videos have appeared in Vogue, Trussardi, Marie Claire, Vanity Fair, L’Officiel, Brioni, Harper’s Bazaar, National Geographic, L’Espresso, Geo, Gambero Rosso, Robb Report, Glamour, Class, Ansa, Repubblica, La Nación. He exhibited at “Festival Internazionale di Roma” of photography and at the Museum Of Contemporary Art in Shanghai. He currently lives in Orvieto.
SPEEDHOLICS WOULD LIKE TO THANK ANDREA NICOLETTO, PRESIDENT OF LAMBORGHINI CLUB ITALIA, FOR ALLOWING THE FILMING OF THIS FEATURE AT HIS HEADQUARTERS AND FOR PROVIDING HIS PERSONAL LAMBORGHINI DIABLO. THE CAR (CHASSIS NO. 41) WAS ORIGINALLY OWNED BY THE CAR AUDIO COMPANY ALPINE, WHICH USED IT FOR ITS ADVERTISING CAMPAIGNS AT THE TIME.
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