The engine seems to say Countach, too-turn the key, and the starter motor’s monotonous whir suggests that there are twelve pistons being heaved up and down. The engine lights off and sends such a ferocious growl down the exhaust pipes that nearby pedestrians flinch. Engage first, drop the throttle to the floor, and let the tachometer needle wind its way toward 7000 rpm. Your synapses fire away in an attempt to process all of the seemingly contradictory observations: the deafeningly loud and unmistakably satanic wail of a Countach V-12 is met only with subdued forward progress.
Source: Automobile Magazine