Cross Country Miura

Guy Anderson is a famous exotic car dealer from the South who has identified himself with some of the most exciting cars including Ferrari, Lamborghini and the Cobra. Along the way he has had many adventures, some of which were harrowing at the time but are a good laugh now. He shared one story after being prodded by VT contributor Wallace Wyss

Story and Photos by Guy Anderson

This tale begins with the purchase of a pair of Miuras. One was a 1966 P400 that was painted in white with red and blue accents. The slats, eyelashes, rockers, bumpers and grills were painted in either red or blue. It was bizarre to look at, kind of a “beater”. The second car was a pale blue 1969 “S” with the paint being considered flat, not very glossy.

Both cars were the property of a man who advertised them in www.motors.co.uk.. When I saw the ad I immediately called the owner and struck up a deal to purchase the pair. I sent him a deposit and prepared to venture to Lake Tahoe to drive both the cars back to Atlanta, Georgia, a distance of approximately 2,500 miles.

The early P400 was running but the brakes did not work. The S would start but was popping and skipping “BAD” according to the owner.

The pictures of the cars arrived, but since the pictures were Polaroid shots, you couldn’t see anything but a faint blue and faint white silhouette of the Miuras sitting in a garage. After deliberating what tools and parts were needed to take, we decided on brake parts, alternator belts, points, plugs and a roll of high tension copper-core, spark plug wire and some spark plug ends. We also brought all tools necessary to make such a trip and a carb synchronizer for good measure.

Then we called exotic car mechanic Marty Bishop to see if he would like to drive one of the Miuras back from Tahoe. Needless to say, he jumped at that chance. We booked two one-way tickets to Reno, Nevada.

We arrived in Reno and we were picked up by the owner of the cars. We knew he would be cool because Lambo owners were a different breed, but he did not believe we were going to attempt to drive the cars across the country. So I asked “Why Not”? He told us about the cars sputtering, and the brakes not working. I told him we had parts and have never been stranded driving Miuras anywhere.

So off to work on the cars it was. First was the blue S. The owner started the car and it was running really rough. It would not idle. Marty removed the rear bodywork, took the carb tops off, cleaned the front bank then rear bank of Webers, and cleaned the idle jets. It ran much better but needed some fresh fuel in it so he took the car to the gas station and filled it up.

Next was the red/white/blue car; the brakes were going to the floor. After some time working on it, the brakes and the carbs were fixed. I took that one out for a drive and Wow! Just like that, the car started to blow black smoke with blue mixed in. Now it just needed to stretch its legs. The carbs were really talking when you revved this one up. All of the fluids are checked and we then put the cars back in the garage, next was needed sleep at the Hotel/Casino.

During our stay, a customer of the Hotel/Casino hit a jackpot and won a million dollars that evening. The local paper said that next morning that after the jackpot was hit, the winner received five marriage proposals. Isn’t true love grand?

The next day we were headed to Atlanta. The cars were getting better with every passing mile. The brakes were freeing up nicely and the carbs were starting to clear. The soot that was bellowing from my exhaust was just starting to clear, when I decided to have the oil in both Miuras changed. Marty and I pulled into a full service gas station and got that out of the way.

We proceeded on our journey when a pop and slap occurred in the P400 I was driving. I looked at the Amp gauge, it was in the negative. I knew then it was an alternator belt. I pulled over and installed an alternator belt from our parts supply.

About thirty minutes later it popped another belt. This time the Gilmer gear drive on the alternator was inspected and we found the gear was worn out. And the only place to find that part would be at GT Car Parts in Arizona. So after putting our last alternator belt we changed direction from east to south and started on our way to Phoenix. I was babying it for almost an hour and the last belt let go. When we pulled over for lunch, I told Marty I will be running on battery power only. When the car starts missing, we could change batteries and continue to GT Car Parts. This diversion would add more than 500 more miles to the trip.

The scenery was beautiful but desolate. The roads were fairly smooth and windy. The sounds of the echo’s of the two cars were wonderful and deafening, at the same time. This part of the journey was fantastic.

Too good, in fact, for then the car started sputtering and I started looking for a place on a hillside to replace the battery. We stopped and exchanged batteries, I started mine and Marty went to start his. Of course his car would not turn over. He had to get out of the car and push it off the crest of the hill where it would roll down to jump start the car. He fired the mighty S and just sat there stopped on the road with the V-12 high idling at about 2,000 rpm.

Despite the battery problem, the cars were running very well at this point and we were looking at each other’s Lambo going thru the desert; they looked spectacular.

We arrived in Phoenix and found GT Car Parts and pulled around back to meet with Bill Young for some spare parts for the trip. He told us he had all we needed except the gear, but maybe the famous Lamborghini test driver/mechanic/engineer Bob Wallace had one next door. Wallace, being the fine guy he was, had the gear and he also helped with the installation. We all talked cars while we were working on the Miura. That was unforgettable. (Wallace, by the way, was a famous Lamborghini test driver who hailed originally from New Zealand. While at Lamborghini, he was one of the three who started the Miura design on a kitchen table, as a “back door project” only to get it green lighted by Ferrucio. He moved to Phoenix after leaving Lamborghini and started a business totally devoted to Lamborghini.)

We decided to drop down to the I- 10 southern route to head home. I had a CB radio—all the rage in those days before cell phones– on the P400 so I could listen to truckers telling where the police were. Since Marty did not have one, when he wanted to stop he would pull up next to me and yell what he wanted. We did have some hand signals that we would use to stop for food, fill up the cars and there was even a sign to go chase a car load of girls. Driving such beautiful cars at speed, terrorizing each other and with all the pretty girls on the road..what a trip that was.

We stopped for the night just before Texas and spent time resting for the next day. Both Miuras were now in excellent condition, the tires were good, the oil new, the charging system on both cars are working perfectly, both batteries fully charged and ready to go. We decided that we were going to blast thru the state of Texas at high speeds.

The cars were warmed up and I rolled up the windows in the P400 and opened the rear fresh air vents for some fresh air circulation. We took off in both Miuras and occasionally checking for police all through-out Texas. There were no police ahead for hours so we started to let the cars creep up to over 125 MPH.

When running at over 125+ miles per hour there was a vibration thru the gas pedal that slowly was putting my foot to sleep. Nothing that was done could relieve this condition. It got so bad I changed to my left foot to hold the gas pedal. (That’s not very smart) I finally sandwiched my shoe between the pedal and the center console and locked it to get a sort of makeshift cruise control. With that figured out, I ran side by side with Marty looking at the S and how beautiful the car was in motion doing its thing. It was hypnotic… the massive spinners, the big square wheel intakes, the curves of the fenders, the profile, the song from the transverse V-12. No wonder people are always staring. These cars are much more beautiful in motion than sitting still. The sound, the smell, the feel, it all tells you that you are alive.

It was getting towards dusk and we were in 5th gear turning some revs. I went past an 18 wheeler cruising up an incline. Then the CB goes off… “Breaker 1-9 Breaker 1-9…Damn… I was just passed by a Jolly Green Giant Roller skate.” A few seconds go by….. “Yea, I was right… there goes the other one.” Then as we passed a few more big rigs and the buzz was great. “What kind of car is that? What kind of motor? What is the horsepower? Where did we get them? Where is the engine? Where are you taking them?” After answering all of the questions I asked, “Where is Smokey?” The truckers replied with the mile marker that the police were sitting, waiting for speeders. I thanked them and when I got close, I signaled to Marty to slow the cars down. We did and when we passed the State Trooper.

Mr. Trooper got on his CB and said. “Mr. Lamborghini, I know how fast you were going. You got lucky this time. Next time you won’t be so lucky.”

Marty and I ran state after state until Alabama then, we finally got some rest. We were just outside the Georgia line in Anniston Alabama. The next day at breakfast, I told Marty that the P400 Miura is lighter and faster than the S and when we reached Georgia I’d prove it. Marty laughed and asked if I was ready to get a beating. He told me The Miura S would be out of sight within a few seconds. When we hit the Georgia Welcome sign we found that the S was really fast but just not fast enough; I beat him but when we got back home he said I was cheating. Sore loser…

The Miura is beautiful, it’s fast, and it’s wonderful when the four cams begin to resonate. If you don’t like sitting in a Machine Shop trying to identify all of the noises, then you are not a Miura guy. The joy in Miura ownership is driving the car. The ultimate joy is Grand Turismo distance driving in one of the worlds coolest cars. I have had the honor and privilege to do, on many occasions, and all I can say is; “What A Ride”.