Endgame

1.581510-1251920944 — The ceramic brakes are good enough to bring the car to a screeching halt from 260kph in just under 65 metres. Image Credit: Supplied

Even if you drive a humble hatchback, you can't have failed to notice the slow creep of sanitisation. Each new car is quieter, more comfortable, safer and more cocooning than before, which is all very well. But there are times when sensation is everything: it's the difference between listening to a CD and standing in the front row at the gig.

Unbelievably, the same applies to supercars. There's no shortage of hardcore machines capable of 300kph or more, but even these automotive monsters can potter around in traffic, cosset your bottom and take you to the shops. Things certainly aren't what they used to be.

Thankfully there is one corner of lunacy on the increasingly sane planet, and it probably comes as no surprise that the mad hatters at Lamborghini are sitting on it. Forever playing the wild child to the beauty queen of Ferrari, Lamborghini has spent the last 47 years making some of the most certifiable supercars ever made, and its latest offering is a truly fitting finale.

The Murciélago is already a beast from nose to tail: the ‘entry-level' car has a 6.5-litre V12 engine that belts out 640bhp and will blast past 338kph. But there's a new range-topper on the horizon, and when the Murciélago dies it takes with it that V12 engine which is directly descended from the beautiful Miura of 1966. So rather than let it go out with a whimper, Lamborghini has created the LP 670-4 SV.

If you don't speak Lamborghini, SV stands for Super Veloce, and with it comes a series of major modifications; 100kg have been shaved off, thanks to lots of carbon fibre inside and out and a lighter exhaust system. It also gets ceramic brakes as standard and power and torque are up to 661bhp and 664Nm respectively. Those are large figures by any stretch of the imagination: this is a car with a single-minded approach.

It's hard not to be intimidated as you climb aboard. Pull the handle and the scissor door glides upwards in a manner guaranteed to attract attention. Drop down into the high-sided bucket seats and the view is quite unlike anything else with four wheels. The steering wheel is right up in front, and the windscreen way off in the distance. It's like peering out of a bunker.

Turn the key then prod the starter and the theatre continues. There's a nervous, anticipatory pause before the high-pitched whirr of the starter, as a sudden rumble announces the V12 coming to life. It idles busily for a few minutes, sending vibrations up your spine before settling down to a distant rumble. Flick the right paddle and first gear engages with a notable clunk: there's clearly no slack anywhere in this car.

As you roll away, the first few inches reveal the very firm suspension and super-sharp steering, with a quicker ratio rack than the regular car. Pull the paddle again for second, and the SV grumbles a little. It's a car that clearly isn't keen on being driven sedately, slow speed manoeuvres causing the front diff to grumble in process. But this just illustrates how the SV is focused on speed, thrills and nothing else.

Squeeze the long accelerator pedal to the floor and there is an instant and violent response. With so much torque from tickover the acceleration is immediate, building as the revs rise until it reaches a spectacular crescendo at the red line. It's also astonishingly flexible: in fourth gear it will sprint from 50kph all the way up to 270kph, with a rapidity that would humble most performance cars.

And all the while there is a scintillating, orchestral backing track coming from the engine room, the V12 blasting out with vigour in its final performance.

More than any previous Murciélago, the SV is a complete package. The ceramic brakes are astonishing, pulling it to a stop from above 250kph in just 65 metres: that's the same distance that the UK Highway Codes says it should take you to stop from 100kph. The same goes for the steering, superb but not over-sensitive, constantly dancing in your palms to tell you what the road surface is like and what the front tyres are up to. It's hard work for sure, but anything less seems a disappointment afterwards. There's simply no compromise when it comes to the mechanicals and the response they deliver, and the SV is all the more intoxicating for that.

There's no boot, visibility is distinctly average and parking it may take as long as the rest of the journey did, but in truth these things do not matter. The Murciélago LP 670-4 SV is the last great supercar, and is the perfect example of automotive artistry.

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