The story sounds like something out of a fantasy film. Yet it took place this summer in the grounds of a grand Scottish mansion, where British collector Simon Kidston, owner of such rarities as a Lamborghini Countach LP400 Periscopio from 1977, was attending a family wedding.
For the occasion, six cars had been trucked to the estate, including a black Miura... and the famous purple Countach, which the day before had been used as the car to join the cocktail party.
The next morning, as guests were recovering from the wedding over a late breakfast, a question crossed the room with polite concern: "Did you move your car?". Kidston, surprised, assures us that he hasn't. The Countach's keys are... in his pocket.
Surveillance images: a start-up impossible to explain
The rest is paranormal. Kidston went outside, discovered the car stuck in a bush and immediately checked the castle's security cameras. The videos are indisputable: at 9:21 a.m., the Countach starts moving. Alone. No one on board, no one around. The V12 doesn't really roar, but the car slides slightly forward, comes to a halt for about 30 seconds, then sets off again, passes a clump of trees, climbs a slight incline and ends up grounded in a shrub. A little to the right, it embedded itself in the stone wall of the building. A few centimetres to the left, and it was off down the slope towards... the river. Kidston shares images of the incident, which he describes as a "mysterious case of a haunted Scottish castle".
The Lamborghini rescue... and the first hypotheses
It takes the combined strength of a wine merchant, a farmer, a Toyota Hilux and a battalion of young guests still foggy from the evening to extract the Countach from its protective bush. Miraculously, the supercar escaped with only scratches under its nose. The enigma remains. How does a Lamborghini 1977, devoid of all modern electronics, can it set itself in motion with no one at the wheel and no keys in the ignition?
Kidston, amused but perplexed, puts forward two leads: a short circuit due to the Scottish humidity... or a ghost from the castle, obviously a lover of beautiful Italians. Kidston points out that the car was restored eight years earlier, that all the electrics are original, that it has never failed. No melted relays, no burnt-out wiring harnesses, no failed components. Everything works as it should.
Scottish ghost or Italian car whimsy?
The most reasonable version involves a short circuit precise enough to send an electrical impulse to the starter motor, in a car that has been left in gear. But this succession of unlikely events would have to occur at exactly the right moment, with the right intensity, without causing the slightest breakdown afterwards. The most mystical version: between the morning humidity, the castle, the idle V12 and the reputation of 70s Italian electronics... a Scottish ghost simply decided to borrow the Countach for a morning drive.
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