To meet demand, production is running 12 unbroken hours each day, though the quiet, focused ambience in the building tells you more than the numbers: they’re still a little bit up against it in here. Another detail that stands out is the workforce demographic, which in the case of the Urus is youthful. I’m told Lamborghini recruits interns from colleges in the region, with almost all going on to earn a full-time job that presumably commands considerable kudos down the trattoria.
Of course, it’s not hard to imagine these young people might want to one day work on the historic lines that gave us the Miura. These fascinating, 200-metre catwalks are annexed to the main building. Here they slow-cook around 13 Huracáns and only four or five Aventadors daily, along with the occasional Huracán GT3 and Super Trofeo racer. Like the Urus hall, there’s plenty of natural light in here, but the ceilings are lower, the pace slower and the atmosphere quite a bit more intimate. After all, they’re creating among the most flamboyant toys imaginable, for some of the most demanding people imaginable.
Co-developed with Audi, the Huracán’s V10 arrives in Italy having been born in Györ, Hungary, but the Aventador’s 430kg 6.5-litre V12 comes from Sant’Agata. Huge blocks sit on stands and polished, club-like pistons glisten in the gloved hands of tattooed employees. Now imagine being the person who gets to drop 659bhp into the sternum of an Aventador SVJ, whose carbonfibre shell has previously been sent 20 minutes down the road to be painted by a company called Imperiale.
Almost all the cars currently on the Aventador line are SVJ-flavoured, though the next flagship Lamborghini will use a V12 hybrid, as demonstrated by the recent 808bhp Sián FKP 37, whose low-voltage electric motor sits inside the transmission. How much will these lines need to adapt to give us electrified supercars? It’s a pertinent question, as every Lamborghini will have some form of hybridisation by 2025. One hopes not too much. It still feels very special here; the whole operation borderline illicit.
Which brings us to Mario Fasanetto. We bump into Lamborghini’s chief test driver, successor to one Valentino Balboni, on the way out of the canteen after lunch. Pure happenstance, but revealing. Not only because having a man like Fasanetto milling around in the canteen is evidence of a company culture keeping it real, but because of what he represents, which is continuity, and like CEO and ex-Ferrari man Stefano Domenicali, also a deep understanding of what sort of company Lamborghini needs to be.