Some supercars seem to vanish into thin air, then reappear like mirages. This Countach LP400 S "Blue Tahiti", chassis 1016, is a perfect illustration: it left the USA in the late 1970s, disappeared from the radar for decades... and then reappeared in Japan, frozen in time, almost as it left Sant'Agata Bolognese.
The dream poster...
John Temerian, owner of Curated in Miami and a Countach and Diablo connoisseur, grew up with these Lamborghini on the wall. Hundreds have passed through his hands, and the magic has never waned. For him, the Countach is not just a supercar: it's an objet d'art, the very symbol of "anything is possible".
The Countach line (1974-1990) is abundant and sometimes misunderstood. For a long time, the pure LP400 "Periscopio" sat at the top of the hierarchy, trading between 1.2 and 2 million $s by the mid-2010s, depending on condition, color and mileage. But over time, another branch has acquired an aura of its own: the LP400 S, born in 1978.
From Walter Wolf to the LP400 S
The LP400 S owes much to special orders from businessman Walter Wolf, then close to engineer Gianpaolo Dallara. Their prototypes introduced fender flares, extra-large Campagnolo "Bravo" wheels and custom-developed Pirelli P7 tires. The Countach's stocky looks and out-of-the-ordinary tire set it on the road to 80s pop culture.
The first LP400 S Series 1 cars, known as "low body" cars because they were still based on the Periscopio chassis, were the most sought-after: the first 50 were fitted with the famous Bravo wheels, and the very first 27 also retained the small Stewart-Warner counters. Among these extremely rare cars, only a handful were painted in the now legendary Blue Tahiti.
1978, California: a customer orders... four Countachs
This is where the story really begins. In 1978, a Californian entrepreneur placed a staggering order for the time: four new Countachs... when Lamborghini was only assembling around 30 cars a year. One of these was chassis 1016, LP400 S Série 1 painted Blue Tahiti.
Shots of the 1016 at the factory, during assembly, then in San Diego. Then silence. The car vanished, before reappearing in Japan in the late 1990s, on the second floor of a small showroom. No longer driven, never exhibited, covered in dust. All those who ask if it's for sale are met with the same polite "no".
Years of negotiation
For years, John Temerian compiled Countach registers and fantasized about this "missing" 1016 chassis. He finally asked a friend, who was looking for cars in Japan, to contact him and make an offer. He refuses. The offers gradually increase. In the meantime, a few photos filter through: factory paintwork, original interior, impeccable alignments.
Convinced he was dealing with a treasure, John Temerian sent expert Chip Davis for an uncompromising inspection, with the mission of tracking down the slightest flaw. The verdict was unexpected: a glowing report, and even mention of a potential "Preservation" prize at Pebble Beach. The transaction was concluded... at a record (but undisclosed) price for an LP400 S.
Arrival in Miami
When the Countach gets off the truck in Miami, it just won't start - normal after two decades of downtime. But everything else is in pristine condition: dashboard, carpets, steering wheel, gear knob, headlights, Bravo rims... It's like a time capsule.
John Temerian is categorical: no restoration. The car will go back to Italy for a mechanical service and nothing else. The philosophy is clear: preserve, not "beautify".
Some cars deserve a competitive restoration. Others deserve to be left untouched. This one belongs to the second category. Because the real value is that of a car kept as new for over 30 years.
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