symbolised: the slightly caddish, romantic, ’60s Latin backdrop.
Underneath the car’s breathtaking beauty, those powerful
haunches that hint at power and speed aren’t an idle boast.
The first mid-engined production sports car—arguably the
world’s first supercar—was very, very fast... and highly in-
novative. To squeeze a stonking great V12 behind the driver,
the engineers took inspiration from a surprising source: the
meek little Mini, with its evolutionary transverse powertrain.
Fitting the engine sideways meant the Miura could, like-
wise, be admirably compact but on a rather grander scale.O
ver time, the car naturally evolved from the original
P400 Miura, the must-have sports car that was rushed
into production to satisfy unexpected demand, but con-
sequently lacked development, through to the S model in 1968
(for “spinto”, or tuned) and finally in 1971 the SV (“spinto veloce”,
adding “fast” to the recipe), which was immediately recognisable
by wider rear wheels and arches, and the deletion of the delicate
headlight eyelashes which characterised the earlier versions.
So what, in Miura terms, was the ultimate? Well, that’s a sorry
tale. Because, without doubt, there was one Miura to rule them
all: the personal creation of Lamborghini’s chief test driver, the
laconic, crew-cut shorn New Zealander, Bob Wallace. The unique
“test bed” car was named Jota after contemporary Appendix J
racing regulations, and it was a very different animal from the
roadgoing Miura that you could order from Lamborghini if you
had a spare $15,000.
Among the many innovations Wallace adopted for this
experimental racer were a body and chassis in riveted panels
of aeronautical aluminium, plus track-bred suspension, Per-
spex side windows, dramatically flared rear wings, brake-cool-
ing ducts, spoilers and a great many other tweaks to make itlighter, aerodynamically sleeker, and, of course, even faster.
So why was it a sorry tale? Well, long ago, the Jota headed off
in a ball of flame to the great museum in the sky, although the de-
tails of its demise were for years the subject of much rumour and
speculation. A myth endured that it was crashed by a mechanic
showing off to his girlfriend but, in truth, the man at the wheel
on the Jota’s final journey was 30-year-old Enrico Pasolini, boss
of a car dealership in Brescia, and it happened on 28 April 1971,
the night before delivery to the car’s new owner.
Although the Jota was gone, it had been seen and admired by
press and customers alike, and so provided the inspiration for a
tiny batch of lookalikes—known as SVJ Miuras—which were built
to order by Lamborghini for deep-pocketed VIPs. The original
SVJ, arguably the most famous surviving Lamborghini, and the
car referred to in that enticing telex message, was built for the
personal pleasure of the Shah of Iran.
The Candy Apple Red SVJ was finished in December 1971 and
when, a few weeks later, the Shah’s private jet landed in Zurich
for his winter holiday in St. Moritz, his new car was waiting on
the runway. Studded Pirelli snow tyres had arrived separately
by Alitalia, for not only was the Shah eager to redline his cars in
top gear around Tehran, he also liked to do so on snow. Without
licence plates. Followed by bodyguards.
It was in researching my book on the Miura—a project that’s
taken a full 15 years and will be published this autumn—that I
came across that Iranian telex. This tantalising insight into the life
of the Shah came about thanks to a young Iranian historian who
approached our Miura display at the recent Rétromobile show in
Paris and explained how he’d worked free of charge in the state
archives for six months, purely to gain access to little-seen doc-
umentation on the Shah’s car collection.
After that winter holiday in 1972, the Shah took his SVJ back
to Tehran, where he used it enthusiastically. When he was over-
thrown by the Iranian Revolution in 1979, the SVJ was still in the
royal garage with less than 3,000km on the clock.
The Shah’s collection of thoroughly decadent cars posed a
problem for the revolutionaries. The more everyday automo-
biles could be used as government transport, and many—RangeSNOW ANGEL
Above: Ferruccio Lamborghini. Right: The Shah of
Iran’s 1971 Lamborghini Miura SVJ blasts across
St. Moritz’s frozen lake again in 2019The Shah liked to redline his cars in topgear around Tehran. Without licenceplates. Followed by BODYGUARDSPR
EV
IO
US
PA
GE
S:^
KID
ST
ON
SA
(^1
97
1 M
IU
RA
SV
J,^
CA
R^ I
N^
DU
BA
I).^
TH
IS^
PA
GE
:^ A
UT
OM
OB
ILI
LA
MB
OR
GH
IN
I^ (F
ER
RU
CC
IO
LA
MB
OR
GH
INI
);^ T
OM
B
ER
GE
RE
T^ (
MI
UR
A^ I
N^ S
T.^
MO
RIT
Z)
VANITY FAIR EN ROUTE
09-19Simon-Kidson-Lamborghini.indd 66 17/07/2019 13:24