Photo credit: Lamborghini, Museo Ferruccio Lamborghini
Each of us is born with a calling that often reveals itself in the earliest years of life. Ferruccio Lamborghini felt his passion for engines immediately, leaving his hometown Cento, near Bologna, to work as a mechanic in the regional capital. His first motorcycle, engine work, a natural talent for mechanics, and his studies set the foundation. When Ferruccio was 24, Italy entered the war, and he was drafted: it was 1940, and his technical knowledge led to his assignment at the Italian outpost on the island of Rhodes in the Aegean Sea, where he became responsible for vehicle maintenance. Among his traits: charm and audacity. We need to know this—and it’s why this story, a bit outside Roarington’s usual tone, is essential to understand this unique character.
First winning move: in Rhodes, the newly arrived Diesel-powered trucks were an unfamiliar technology. Each truck had a maintenance manual. Ferruccio collected them all, hid them, and studied every technical detail. He soon became the only one capable of repairing those engines. His influence grew, and when Italy signed the armistice on 8 September 1943, abandoning its German allies, German troops arrived in Rhodes. They quickly recognized his technical value and didn’t imprison him—instead, they gave him mechanical work. Second winning move: he learned a whole new type of engineering and got paid for it! Third winning move: with the German defeat came the arrival of British troops with completely different vehicle technology. Ferruccio didn’t hesitate to collaborate with the new "boss" and absorbed even more mechanical knowledge—skills that would be priceless upon his return to Italy.
In February 1948 in Cento, during the festival of the town’s patron saint, he presented a tractor of his own creation, called “Carioca”, which would bring him fortune. His next winning move: he had purchased British Morris engines—familiar to him by now—at incredibly low prices as military surplus. He built a simple, robust chassis and, more importantly, showed both his genius and business instinct: the engines ran on gasoline, which was expensive, while kerosene—sold cheaply for agricultural use—was far more accessible. Ferruccio invented a pre-heating system that started the engine on gasoline using a dedicated small tank, then switched to kerosene once the engine warmed up. Brilliant.
Success followed, boosted by another winning tactic: Ferruccio personally brought the Carioca to large agricultural fairs and gave live demonstrations. He had devised a clever trick: challenge competing tractors to tug-of-war strength contests. Chained together from the rear and pulling in opposite directions, the Carioca always won. It was later discovered that Ferruccio had filled his tractor’s tires with water—a ton of extra weight—giving it unbeatable traction. A brilliant trickster! And cars? A natural evolution. The passion was there—he even built a little sportscar with a Fiat engine to race in the Mille Miglia. He didn’t go far (off the road at night!), but even then, he showed his wit: the crash ended in a bar, with no injuries, and he came away with a new idea—why not become a sports car manufacturer? By then extremely wealthy, Ferruccio had owned every kind of high-performance luxury car, including Ferraris. He’d drawn two conclusions: none had the quality he believed he could offer, and—stung by pride—it bothered him that the world flocked to Maranello to meet Enzo Ferrari, while no one came to see him. Yet Cento and Maranello were just a few kilometers apart.
So, more flashes of brilliance: he spread the news that he would build the perfect car, after being disappointed by Ferrari. He created a story—never actually happened—of a dispute with Enzo Ferrari himself that supposedly pushed him to prove what he was capable of. He crafted it so well that even today, many believe it truly occurred. In reality, it was just an exchange of “courtesies” through intermediaries. To create Lamborghini, Ferruccio played his best cards: Franco Scaglione, the famed designer, for styling; Giotto Bizzarrini to develop a V12 engine more powerful than Ferrari’s; and a young genius, Gianpaolo Dallara, for overall engineering. This was 1963.
He also carefully avoided hiring any Ferrari suppliers or employees. His factory in Sant’Agata Bolognese—still there today—would not produce red cars: he asked Bertone for a signature red, which became the now-iconic Lamborghini orange. And in a bold move, he avoided racing altogether, saying he couldn’t bear the thought of a driver dying in a car that bore his name. These were the golden years of the Miura, then the Espada, and the Countach. Let’s stop here. It’s enough to understand how a child's instinct—the same that Enzo Ferrari also had—can create legends that inspire the whole world. Magnificent.
CLASSIC CAR MATCHER