’80s supercar shootout: Lamborghini Countach vs Porsche 911 turbo vs Ferrari Testarossa

These cars were cathedrals to a very different addiction: speed.

And not the stuff that keeps you dancing all night, but the visceral, raw speed born of high-octane fuel, plenty of cylinders and perhaps the odd turbocharger thrown in for good measure.

This is the drug that courses through the veins as you slide into the reclined white leather chair of the Lamborghini Countach 5000 qv.

It’s hard not to get excited when the view through the windscreen includes a gleaming white Ferrari Testarossa and an equally stark Porsche 911 turbo.

This is not just a trip down memory lane, it’s a time machine back to a universe of exaggerated ’80s style.

And what a machine.

The Lamborghini Miura of 1967, arguably the first true supercar, had attracted plenty of attention, and its replacement had to be similarly startling.

As a result, the task of styling it was placed in the hands of the same man, Bertone’s Marcello Gandini.

But this was no reskin: starting with a clean sheet, the engine was turned through 90º and mounted longitudinally behind the driver.

That made the new Countach longer but, at just 42in high, it was equally dramatic – befitting what was the world’s fastest road car when it was presented in 1974.

From the low nose to the slashes over the rear wheelarches, its extreme wedge silhouette was as distinctive as it was modern.

It was fresh enough to remain in production largely unchanged for more than 15 years, aside from the addition of fat arches from 1978 to cover the groundbreaking low-profile Pirelli P7s, plus an optional rear spoiler with the up-engined LP500S in 1982.

All that’s missing is the soundscape, but it blows in with a turn of the key.

A dozen cylinders roar into life behind your neck, and the slightest tap of the throttle attacks the senses from all directions with the uninhibited blare of a V12.

That soundtrack is soon joined by the scent of oil and metal meshing together; forget the soulless technology of modern supercars, because this Lamborghini engine was the product of the passion and genius of former Ferrari engineer Giotto Bizzarrini.

‘Our’ 1985 car features the revised and enlarged 5167cc V12, complete with quattrovalvole (four valves per cylinder).

The romance of the experience is almost enough to draw a tear to the eye as you press the clutch to the floor and put the heavy-breathing Italian into first.

Straight away romance makes way for reality because the Countach is not a car to be driven with your mind elsewhere; it’s just as challenging to drive as it is dramatic to look at.

It demands that you be precise in your work – and put in a bit of effort.

For starters, you need to get your timing right and flex your muscles when navigating the stubby gearlever around the open gate.

The unassisted steering is heavy, too; as long as you’re travelling in a straight line it’s fine, but manoeuvring into a parking space will save you an hour at the gym.

If you want to reverse, it is best achieved by opening the scissor door, moving to the sill panel and then operating the clutch with your right foot while using the V12’s torque. Otherwise you can’t see a thing.

Vision is not much better on the move, even out on clear roads

The instrument cluster is positioned so high that it obstructs your view and you feel as if you are sitting in some sort of space capsule, a sense underlined by the strange division of the side windows; only the lower part can be opened, and only wide enough to pass out your driving licence should the Countach draw the attentions of the local constabulary.

For all its potential, the engine is docile at low speeds and the throttle pedal is light. But if you have past experience of supercars, you’ll know it needs to be treated with caution.

Lamborghini’s iconic V12 soldiered on for five decades before finally being phased out in 2011, but its basic design dates back to 1963, a time when power developed exponentially in relation to the revs.

The more you put your foot in, the wilder it gets, and even though its performance is matched today by a Volkswagen Golf GTI, driving the Lamborghini quickly is an intense experience – not least because it is so physically demanding.

But when the Countach was launched, it was generally accepted that a car with such potency would demand skill and experience to get the best from it.

Economics set the limit on who could buy and run one, but practicalities also curtailed the list of clientele.

It would be a decade before the first truly user-friendly Italian superhero arrived, with the Ferrari Testarossa acting as a catalyst for this new breed.

Over in Germany, however, just a year after the Lamborghini’s debut a new arrival was about to upset the applecart in the outside lane of the motorway with a completely different approach to high-performance motoring.

Porsche’s first bid for a true supercar, the 911 turbo – or 930, to use its internal designation – did without a mid-mounted engine or a dozen cylinders; the access was easier, the vision better, and the ergonomics more practical.

Porsche had been experimenting with turbocharging technology since the late ’60s, so when it decided in 1974 to make a serious bid for laurels in Group 4 sports-car racing, forced induction was the obvious choice.

Regulations required that a roadgoing variant was built and sold to the tune of at least 400 examples over a two-year period, so the 911 turbo hit the market in 1975.

It was a runaway success, with 1000 cars sold in the first 12 months alone, and its racing sibling proved similarly effective on the track.

And yet at first glance this most potent of Porsches could easily be mistaken for any other 911.

Its signature Fuchs alloy wheels had been a fixture since the ’60s, though look closer and you’ll see that the wider tyres needed to put down the turbo’s additional power have resulted in a discreet flaring of the rear wheelarches.

The classic 911 ‘whale tail’ spoiler has turned into the ‘tea tray’ – or ‘coffee table’, ‘ironing board’ or whatever metaphor takes your fancy – in order to combine its aerodynamic duties with the need to supply air to the intercooler.

Climb aboard and, far from the exotic feel of most supercars, the view from the driver’s seat is almost a monument to an entire brand: from a 1963 2-litre to the latest 992, all 911s share the same design DNA.

Slot the key into the ignition barrel on the dash to the left of the steering wheel and it produces a sound as familiar – and famous – as that view.

The roaring, slightly rasping thrum of an air-cooled six-cylinder boxer engine is instantly recognisable and carefully recreated in the cars rolling out of the Porsche factory today.

The KKK turbocharger strapped to the flat-six – initially a 3-litre 260bhp unit, raised to 3.3 litres and 300bhp in 1978 – does slightly temper the noise levels from the engine compartment behind the small rear seats, but there is still more than enough to emphasise that this supercar’s more practical approach conceals a murderous plan.

Since launching the 930, Porsche has spent six generations and more than 40 years fighting the laws of physics, in order to tame the dynamic challenges presented by locating the engine behind the rear axle.

The tendency for the 911’s tail to overtake its nose has been largely eliminated today, but when the turbo was introduced it added an extra element of unpredictability that required an extremely skilled pilot to drive the car near its limits.

Lag is now a thing of the past, but in the turbo’s infancy it took time for the exhaust gases to spin the impeller fast enough to generate boost pressure, resulting in the ‘Heinz Tomato Ketchup effect’ when you pressed the throttle.

You’d wait and wait and wait, then all of sudden the power arrived in one big splurge. It was enough to surprise even a seasoned driver and, if you were turning the wheel when the turbo bit, you’d soon discover why the model acquired an unenviable reputation as a widowmaker.

So before pressing on, it’s best to get familiar with your surroundings.

The floor-hinged pedals take acclimatisation and the gearbox has only four ratios – the five-speed 915 ’box was deemed not strong enough, with the sturdier G50 only arriving for the final year of the 930 in 1989 – and requires a firm hand.

It’s not that the shift itself is heavy, but more that with little in the way of self-centring you have to be deliberate about where you place the relatively long lever that springs out of a narrow centre console, which looks a bit like a retrofit accessory.

Despite its reputation, it’s impossible to resist playing with the boost pressure and watching the needle flicker in the little gauge set into the tachometer dial, but always giving due respect to a model whose values have tripled in recent years as its importance begins to be recognised.

All too soon it’s time to pull over and take a seat in the youngest vehicle in our snow-white triumvirate, the Ferrari Testarossa.

The broad, brash Modenese design is a decade younger than its rivals, and this is reflected in the cabin, which has such modern conveniences as a brightly lit digital display to indicate the outside air temperature.

The central tunnel is narrow, so a small extension is needed to accommodate the gearlever, with its beautiful polished open gate, but it’s easier to work than that of the Countach.

It does still suffer the traditional Ferrari trait of a recalcitrant second gear until the oil is properly warmed, but that’s just how it should be.

It’s not practically perfect, however: the driving position – like the Lamborghini’s – is of the ‘gorilla’ type, so when the distance to the pedals is ideal, you’re having to stretch uncomfortably for the steering wheel.

At least the helm isn’t heavy, even without power assistance, and the view through the large windscreen and side windows is unrestricted.

The same can’t be said out the back, where it is only marginally better than the Countach, though the large door mirrors do help. Post-’87 cars got two of them, replacing the distinctive, high-mounted ‘flying mirror’ of early examples.

The 390bhp Testarossa was one of the first models to truly open Ferrari’s eyes to how much money there was to be made from the right kind of road cars.

To drive it remained a challenge, yet straight-line stability was good even without a rear spoiler, and the mid-mounted engine ensured excellent balance in the twisty stuff.

And the engine itself had been refined to near perfection.

Essentially a flattened V12, with 180º between banks of cylinders, for the Testarossa it was enlarged to 4942cc with a dry sump and four valves per cylinder beneath the red-headed cam covers that gave the car its name.

But the way the Testarossa drove was only one part of its success; at least as important was the way it looked.

Technically it was an evolution of the feisty but flawed 512 Berlinetta Boxer, even if the final design bore little resemblance to its curvaceous predecessor.

The softened wedge shape was enlivened by genius strokes from Pininfarina under the direction of Leonardo Fioravanti, with the tail-lights concealed behind grilles and the large side intakes turned into design statements courtesy of bold strakes that channelled fresh air into the greedy flat-12.

In truth, the way the narrow, pointed and compact frontal area opened out along high wing tops to a dramatically wide tail caused some aerodynamic anomalies, resulting in the side windows being pulled away from the car when speeds passed 150mph.

Few of the 7177 owners who invested in a Testarossa would have experienced such speeds, however.

Instead, they and everyone watching could simply soak up the distinctive blend of detail and proportion that combined to make it one of the most successful Ferrari road cars to date.

The1991 demise of the ‘redhead’ coincided with the arrival of legendary Ferrari presidente Luca Cordero di Montezemolo, whose mission became to spread the Testarossa’s populist appeal throughout the Prancing Horse range.

As such it’s a car with a significance that in many ways far exceeds its reputation in both Ferrari history and the supercar hall of fame.

Blending the raw appeal of a Countach with some of the Porsche’s usability, it’s a choice that can be made with head and heart.

And, as the world reignites its dormant love affair with white cars, it’s time this alabaster horse lost its associations with vice – and indeed Miami Vice – to take its place among the supercar elite.

Images: Søren Juul

Factfiles

Lamborghini Countach 5000 qv

• Sold/number built 1985-’88/618 (plus 321 LP500Ss, 1982-’85)
• Construction tubular steel spaceframe, aluminium body with glassfibre wheelarch extensions and Kevlar bonnet
• Engine all-alloy, dohc-per-bank 5167cc V12, six Weber 44DCNF carbs (Bosch KE-Jetronic in US)
• Max power 455bhp @ 7000rpm
• Max torque 369lb ft @ 5200rpm
• Transmission five-speed manual, RWD
• Suspension independent, by double wishbones, coil springs, telescopic dampers, anti-roll bar f/r
• Steering rack and pinion
• Brakes ventilated discs, with servo
• Length 13ft 7in (4140mm)
• Width 6ft 2in (1880mm)
• Height 3ft 6in (1067mm)
• Wheelbase 8ft 2in (2489mm)
• Weight 3284lb (1490kg)
• 0-60mph 4.9 secs
• Top speed 178mph
• Mpg 14.6
• Price new £49,500
• Price now £250-360,000*
   

Porsche 911 (930) turbo

• Sold/number built 1974-’89/21,589 (all)
• Construction steel monocoque
• Engine all-aluminium, sohc-per bank, air-cooled 3299cc flat-six, Bosch K-Jetronic fuel injection
• Max power 300bhp @ 5500rpm
• Max torque 304lb ft @ 4000rpm
• Transmission four-speed manual, RWD
• Suspension independent all round, at front by struts, lower wishbones, torsion bars rear semi-trailing arms, transverse torsion bars; telescopic dampers, anti-roll bar f/r
• Steering rack and pinion
• Brakes ventilated and drilled discs
• Length 14ft 1in (4291mm)
• Width 5ft 9in (1775mm)
• Height 4ft 3in (1310mm)
• Wheelbase 7ft 5in (2272mm)
• Weight 2866lb (1300kg)
• 0-60mph 5.4 secs
• Top speed 161mph
• Mpg 20
• Price new £24,499
• Price now £60-120,000*
   

Ferrari Testarossa

• Sold/number built 1984-’92/7177
• Construction tubular steel chassis, aluminium body with steel roof and doors
• Engine all-alloy, dohc-per-bank, 48-valve 4942cc flat-12, Bosch K-Jetronic injection
• Max power 390bhp @ 6300rpm
• Max torque 361lb ft @ 4500rpm
• Transmission five-speed manual, RWD
• Suspension independent, by double wishbones, coil springs, telescopic dampers, anti-roll bar f/r
• Steering rack and pinion
• Brakes ventilated discs
• Length 14ft 8½in (4485mm)
• Width 6ft 6in (1976mm)
• Height 3ft 8½in (1206mm)
• Wheelbase 8ft 4in (2550mm)
• Weight 3320lb (1506kg)
• 0-60mph 5.8secs
• Top speed 180mph
• Mpg 14
• Price new £62,666
• Price now £70-130,000*

^{*Prices correct at date of original publication}

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