For three years, I taught at a school called Thornhill Collegiate, just north of Toronto. Because I was racing a Formula Vee at the time and had an interest in cars, the head of the Technical Department asked me to be a staff sponsor for a school autosports club. We would meet regularly, and I would sign out films from various sources like Labatts or Players on racing or rallying and show them in my classroom after school was over. The club would also organize various events like driving skill contests and gymkhanas. We would also participate in local fun rallies organized by the Deutsche Automobile Club in which I had a membership. In addition, we would also get in guest speakers, usually local race car drivers, like Formula Ford Champion Gary Magwood or Canadian racer Horst Kroll.

In the fall of 1973, John Wright's students stare amazingly at the Lambo.

After one of the meetings one day, a young man in the club happened to tell me that his father owned a dealership for exotic cars. I had suspected as much, as this young man drove a Rolls Royce Silver Shadow to school... At any rate, I asked the young man if he might be able to persuade his father to bring one of the exotic cars from his stable to school to demonstrate the car's features to the other boys in the club. He said he'd try but nothing happened, and I forgot about it. Until...one day when I was showing one of those old Shell films about the history of racing, there was a knock at the classroom door. "Mr. Wright?" It was the young man.

"Yes, Jeff?"

"Mr. Wright, I've brought one of my Dad's cars...a Lamborghini Miura S. I hope that's ok." OK!! OK!! Dio Mio!!! The closest I had ever been to a Lamborghini had been reading about one in Road and Track!

The classroom went from 30 students to zero in two seconds flat - a new world's record for emptying a school classroom.

There, in the school parking lot, looking very lethal, was a bronze metallic Lamborghini Miura S. It looked gorgeous! We opened the engine compartment cover and gaped at the huge engine amd the six Weber carburetors, the better to feed the massive V-12 engine. I had to sit in the driver's seat. Just to sit in the Miura was a sensuous experience and not ony because of the full leather interior. Then, as now, you drove the car in the classic layout position, in the Italian arms-out-and-legs-crunched-up style.

For an automotive enthusiast like me, it was the equivalent of being in the Sistine Chapel for the true believer. It was then that the question percolated up from the coal bin of my subconscious. I had to drive this car!! "Can I take it for a short (meaning LONG FAST DRIVE!!) spin around the block?" I could barely get out the words. The owner said that it would be all right, but he would have to come with me. Did I care?

I managed the drill of getting the beast started. The massive V-12 lit up with a KAWHOOP!!! and then settled down to a raucous idling rumble, much the same if one had disturbed a hibernating grizzly bear in his early spring den in Garabaldi Park in British Columbia - a very big, hairy, grumpy grizzly bear. NEAT! It was also really interesting how one could see all the little linkages going up and down and in and out if one bent around and looked over one's shoulder through the rear window into the engine compartment. There was a little double glazed window, and its function was to unsuccessfully keep the noise of the engine out of the driver's compartment. However, WHO CARED? It was the automotive equivalent of listening to the Brandenburg Concertos at full blast played by Johann Sebastian himself, if you were eight inches away from the brobdinagian pipe organ itself.

For most average automobile enthusiasts, this experience comes infrequently. I recognized that this was as close as I would ever come to driving an all out, balls to the wall race car. I snicked the car into reverse and promptly stalled the car - did wonders for the ego. I tried it again. KAWHOOP!!! Let's try and cope with the shifter and the heavy clutch again. With a little fuss and bother, I got the car pointed in the right direction and manhandled it out of the school parking lot. Oh yes, be careful not to scrape the bottom of the delicate oil pan on the concrete dimple as you turn onto the street because the car had about 10mm of road hugging clearance.

We found a highway away from populated areas, and I firmly and a little nervously pushed the accelerator firmly to the floor... It was then I realized how naval aviators feel when the catapult kicks in and propells them in their F14s off the deck of an aircraft carrier. WHAT A CAR!! As I shifted into second gear, the speedometer read 60 miles an hour and climbed rapidly. WHAT A CAR!! You have to understand that most of us young people in North America at this time had some experience with the garden variety muscle car. I had driven various Oldsmobile 442s and Pontiac GTOs. However, very little had prepared me for the raw animal power of this Italian exotic car.

Remember, at around this time Road and Track had achieved a two way average speed with the S of 168 miles an hour. Mama Mia!!! Pasta Fazool!!! Spettaculore!!! So was this car! After about half an hour exploring some of the limits of this exotic automobile, reluctantly I returned the grumbling Lambo to the parking lot. What an experience are the three inadequate words I can use to describe the short but exciting visit I had with this most fascinating sportscar.

However, IF one is of a practical bent of mind, HOW IMPRACTICAL would you say this car would be in a Canadian climate on a scale of one to ten. The Lambo would rate a two hundred. One cannot imagine even driving this car in our climate for more than June, July, and August. Pretty expensive machine to drive for only the salubrious summer months we have in Canada. However, if you had the money to be able to own and operate this beastie, you could probably pay to fly it to where the weather would suit its capabilities.

One must remember that this car is not one's average daily driver, although I am sure it would fulfill that function in a climate without snow or ice. Rather, the Lamborghini Miura S is a piece of automotive sculpture designed not only to drive but also to admire, to admire the engineering that went into the car and also to admire the way the designer of the car wrapped the sheet metal sensuously around the internals, thus creating the automotive equivalent of the ever-young Sophia Loren.

By the way, the asking price for this second hand Lamborghini? $17, 500 (Canadian) in the fall of 1973. How I wish today for some time warp machine to whisk me back to that time period so I could purchase that hunk of sexy Italian sheet metal.