Not everything from the late ‘70s was malaise-inducing. Today, it's up periscope for some Italian insanity.

Yesterday, pokey and the bandit brought down a 67% Crack Pipe vote, disproving the seller's pricing acumen and setting off a flurry of banjo music in everyone's heads. Today we're going to stay in 1977, but with a car that got its name from the exclamation of shock and awe elicited at its unveiling.

Lamborghini's '71 Geneva Show entrant was intended to out-Miura the Miura, and it wildly succeeded in doing so. Rather than lithe and curvaceous like the sidewinder Miura, the new five litre halo car from the Sant'Agata Bolognese maker was brutally functional in appearance, looking like something out of a science fiction film. The production version, which entered the market three years later, kept most of the show car's styling intact, but had a 3,929cc DOHC V12 nestled behind the two-place cockpit, rather than the show car's 4,992. The drivetrain was unique both then and now, with the engine mounted bass-ackwards, and sending the 375 bhp to a direct-action ZF five speed resting just millimeters below the driver's shifting arm, and then back to the differential via a shaft through the sump. Weight distribution of the car's 3,296 lbs was an ideal 41/59.

The Gandini-designed body is resplendent in it's earliest and purest form, unadorned by the various flares, slats and scoops that befouled later iterations. Called the periscopo cars for the unique secondary window slotted in the roof - which provided rearward visibility between the canyon walls of the engine cover - they also were the first application of what we all now universally know as "Lambo Doors".

Today's candidate LP 400 is representing it from the last year of production, when a mere 33 were examples were built. The succeeding LP 400S gained wider Pirellis and the option of the V-wing to keep the rear end planted, making those top speed runs a little less of a pucker-fest. These '74-'77 cars had (relatively) skinny tires and provide the lowest drag coefficient of the marque making them good for damn-near 200 mph when given given enough straight road and a driver with a heavy right foot. But at an asking price of $395,000, and a described no-cost-spared restoration, spattering the nose with Bee Movie rejects may not be the best idea.

Fantasy Junction is not known for bargain-basement pricing, but recent auction activity indicates that decent Countaches (Countachi?) have been trading in this for a couple of years at least. And, if you could afford it, you'd buy it, right?

When you were a kid, you very likely had a poster of a Countach on your bedroom wall. Hell, you still might! So, is $395,000 a Nice Price to replace that poster with the real deal? Or, is Fantasy Junction throwing in some Crack Pipe with their Countach?

You decide!

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