[Ed Note: I was recently given an amazing opportunity to go to France for a weekend to see a bunch of cars drive around in circles. REALLY big circles. An 8 and a half mile track in central France called La Sarthe. You may have heard of it. I was there at the behest of Michelin Tires on assignment for FlatSixes.com to cover the experience of the 24 Hours of Le Mans, and you can see my race report, and more over there.] Ferruccio Lamborghini, for years, admired the famous Spanish fighting bulls of Don Eduardo Miura, and even went so far as to name all of his cars in homage to the world famous fighting bull breeding ranch. Following the Miura proper, Lamborghini produced this front-engine V12 2+2 tourer. This one was named Espada, after the sword used by bull fighters, but colloquially used to describe the fighter themselves. This, to me, describes this car in either of its two forms. One, as a sword itself, scything its way through traffic with V12 torque, and carving its way down mountain passes. Second, this car is a fighter, a scrappy underdog taking on the earthly might of the bull, a metaphor, in this case, for…  I don’t know, something, I guess.  I’ve never been very good at metaphors. On our trip, we were afforded a few hours in Paris after deboarding at Charles De Gaul, and we did all of the touristy things, going to visit the gardens, the Louvre, walking along the Sienne to see the Eiffel tower, up the streets to L’arc de Triomphe, and down the Champs-Elysees. It was somewhere between the Tower and the Arch where I saw this gorgeous visage of Lamborghini days gone by. I probably won’t garner favor with many in this opinion, but I don’t think that Lamborghini has made an attractive car perhaps since the Urraco. Without doubt, the Miura is the most attractive car they’ve ever produced, but the Espada, in my mind, takes a handy second place. It’s such an attractive Bertone design, in fact, that I remain incredulous that Lamborghini has not produced a front engine GT car in decades. This particular Espada appears to be a Series 1 car (based on the shape of the dashboard, as there were very few exterior changes over the car’s lifecycle), which would mean it was produced sometime between 1968 and 1970, and carries a 325 horsepower 4.0 Liter V12. 1970 and later models were endowed with 350 horsepower, but I think I’d rather have this distinctive early dashboard than an additional 25 horses. Those angular gauge pods, the massive center stack filled with mostly unnecessary (and likely non-functional) switchgear, and that beautiful wooden three-spoke steering wheel are pieces of art, regardless of the engine attached to them. The car was clearly well-loved, but at the same time well used. In a city where I rarely saw a car with a single straight panel, driving something like this in Paris would be, at best, nerve wracking. I’d hate to see those beautiful sculpted fenders bashed by a careless madamoiselle, and with that long front section, surely it must be difficult to navigate the tight quarters of the city. That said, there is something supremely cool about owning a 1960s Super-GT, and parking it up on the street outside of your Parisian apartment. Oh, how the other half lives, eh? All images ©2014 Hooniverse/Bradley C. Brownell, All Rights Reserved.