Eccentrica Diablo review: the original Lamborghini Diablo reborn

It is all laughs and games until somebody loses an eye. Or, in this instance, a clutch master cylinder - and the self-respect it affords a 35-year-old Lamborghini Diablo stranded on the Great St Bernard Pass. Yes, that was me: hazards flashing, trying to work out what on earth to do with a venerable Diablo on a winding mountain route after its clutch pedal went from needing 42kg of force (really) to having the resistance of a pedal-bin footplate.

Until then, everything had been going splendidly. I was in a first-generation 1990 Diablo on a sunlit road at the Italian-Swiss border, with Matt Monro somewhere in my subconscious and the rocky Italian landscape echoing the V12's broad-chested howl. It is not straightforward, though. With no ABS, traction control or - most significantly - power steering, this is the most feral Diablo of them all: the version people caution you about.

It is a test for automotive masochists, perhaps, or simply those intrigued by the Diablo. I certainly fall into the latter camp. Diablos adorned my bedroom walls when I was young, yet the only examples I had previously driven were VTs and late 6.0-litre manuals, from the Audi-owned period when the car had become a little less savage.

Photography: Mark Riccioni

The uncompromising original Lamborghini Diablo

Early Diablos are a different proposition, and they are anything but endearing. Their ergonomics are erratic; the instrument pod consumes what feels like a third of the windscreen; and the cabin is cramped, skewed and hot. The clutch sits approximately where you expect the brake pedal to be, while warmth comes from the huge, phlegmy engine and genuinely dreadful “air conditioning”, which wheezes asthmatically over your skin with something almost bacterial about it.

Every control is weighty, the plastics possess the robustness of Pringles, and the assembly quality appears to have been overseen by someone drunk or high. Even allowing for a 35-year-old car, nothing aligns properly, and the gap between dashboard and door is wide enough for my whole hand.

For better or worse - depending on how much you enjoy the peculiar dynamics of early-1990s mid-engined supercars - the Diablo has as little tolerance for clumsy inputs as the fighting bull that inspired its name. You get the sense that, once you realise you are in difficulty, it will be much too late to rescue the situation. The frantic elbow-work prompted by even a hint of rear-end movement makes clear that an early Diablo is not for the faint-hearted. Yet it is magnificent. There is a naturally aspirated 5.7-litre V12 immediately behind your ears, a dog-leg first gear, a five-speed manual transmission, and somebody else's depreciation.

Its ratios are extraordinarily long. First stretches comfortably beyond 60mph, allowing 0–60 runs without interrupting the effort for the geologically slow - clunk, kerthunk - change through the open-gated, deeply awkward cobra-headed shift mechanism. The engine is muscular but not especially sharp to respond, delivering power as a rising swell rather than with turbocharged or electric immediacy. At a hairpin, meanwhile, you haul on the steering wheel as if raising a yacht's mainsail. It is relaxed on an autoroute, however, and on roads like these it does not merely create memories: it sears them into your frontal lobe. As an experience, it is completely brilliant.

It is also an old Diablo, making it about as dependable as cheese abandoned in sunshine. But what if you could enjoy all the excess and theatre of an early Diablo without enduring the inconvenience of an ageing car with issues inherited from another era? That is the point of the Eccentrica Diablo: a Diablo restomod that retains the personality while surgically removing the frustrations.

Eccentrica Diablo design and interior

It begins with the styling, which is always the difficult part. Beauty may sit in the eye of the beholder, but some beholders are short-sighted, and restomods can turn into a clash of fresh ideas that never suit the original form. Interfering with Lamborghini's design might have created a look akin to the bland, plastic, featureless attractiveness of an average American television presenter. Instead, it is gorgeous. Finished in rose gold and black, it is leaner, sharper and closer to Gandini's initial Diablo concept before Chrysler became Lamborghini's owner in the late 1980s. Carbon fibre replaces the original aluminium bodywork, while the car is wider, lighter and more horizontal than its donor.

The original has softened corners; the Eccentrica uses crisp edges. Where its forebear wears a large floating rear bumper and four exhaust outlets, the Eccentrica has an almost pared-back rear bar, with a Capristo twin-exit exhaust rising from the centre in the manner of the 1999 Diablo GT. Twin roof scoops repeat that family resemblance. The GT had only one central intake, but more is better.

The old Diablo features pop-up lamps and low-mounted fog lights. The Eccentrica substitutes blade-like daytime running lights and lids that glide upwards and backwards into the bodywork to expose LED headlamps. It is more defined, cleaner and more precise, while remaining entirely diabolical. It also retains the squircle wheel arches that fascinated my 14-year-old self.

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Step through the customary scissor doors and the cabin is an even greater revelation. Its dashboard is now a tribute to what can only be called retro-futurism, set much lower in the car. The switches remain satisfyingly substantial, but are grouped logically rather than scattered over the centre console like a button-borne disease. Panel gaps are snug, and the Alcantara and suede feel lavish. The gear lever, still running through a semi-open gate, is a tactile sphere of cold billet-machined metal. Yet it remains unmistakably Diablo. The outward view, reclined driving position and doors all preserve the same core components, only prepared in a modern oven rather than over an open flame. The visual and conceptual discipline is far greater.

Driving the Eccentrica Diablo

That impression continues from behind the wheel. The engine retains the same 5.7-litre block, with no increase in bore or stroke and no turbocharging. It produces around 55bhp more than the original did when new, thanks to revised camshafts, electronic throttle bodies, an optimised flywheel, and improved thermal management and airflow. The extra output feels less like a pursuit of greater acceleration and more like the natural consequence of improved drivability.

It is not vastly quicker, either: only a few tenths faster to 62mph and a few mph ahead at maximum speed. Instead, the aim is to make rapid driving easier and more comfortable. For the most part, that is exactly what it does. This particular car was still receiving its final mapping, unfortunately, and we took it to elevations beyond those encountered during earlier testing, which occasionally made it awkward to drive. At lower altitudes, though, it is transformative.

We pushed harder on day two, rising at dawn to use the quietest hours, and that was when the car clicked into focus. As sunrise washes colour through the morning like caffeine into a nervous system, illuminating synapses and snapping everything awake, the Eccentrica feels ready for action. It remains quick but, just like the original, never brutally so. Its revs gather in a more natural manner.

One or two leisurely blinks encompass an entire straight, broken only by the single click-clack of a manual change from second to third. That is sufficient. There is a new six-speed gearbox, packing a shorter set of six ratios into the original five-speed casing, while reverse uses an electric actuator fitted into the empty space once occupied by the take-off for later “VT” four-wheel-drive versions.

Although the ratios are shorter than before, they are not short, and these new legs lend the Eccentrica a more contemporary character. It can brake, too. Six-piston front calipers and four-piston rear units turn the old Diablo's full-body shove on the pedal, complete with braced core, into a more conventional firm press. It is not a hyper-assisted modern arrangement - it still demands effort - but it inspires far more confidence than the 1990s car.

That is not the end of it. You can now see over the dashboard, while the Eccentrica's responsiveness is changed by beautifully weighted power steering that somehow delivers more texture and feedback even with assistance filtering through your forearms. Turn into a corner and the effect of the carbon bulkheads and spines bracing the square-tube birdcage chassis is obvious. What was once a structure of somewhat porous stiffness becomes something solid enough for the suspension to work against without deflection. That suspension is semi-active and adjustable via a strength-mode toggle on the console, while traction control and driving modes are also fitted: “Wet” softens everything and limits output to 450bhp, “Strada” (road) offers more power and control, and “Pista” delivers the full 550+bhp at maximum firmness.

Perhaps predictably, the steering and rigidity make the biggest contribution to the way it drives. So do modern track tyres fitted to 19in forged wheels rather than the old 17s, allowing the suspension to work more effectively once again. Pitch and yaw are far better managed, and braking and acceleration feel less like travelling in a speedboat. The tyres are also marginally wider at the front and slightly narrower at the rear than before, bringing greater balance rather than the sensation of being shoved along from behind by a tipper truck.

There is noise. There is vibration. There is challenge. Third gear is like having your adrenal glands lightly defibrillated

Still, on an Italian mountain road it can make the hair rise on your neck, the V12 producing noises capable of provoking avalanches. Its drawn-out howl hardens as revs climb, then pops, bangs and burbles in different ways on the overrun. This is not the sanitised, artificial crackle of an ECU setting; it is the unmistakable gargle of unburnt fuel meeting a hot exhaust. Old-school metal against EDM.

Fourth gear is genuinely too long for roads that twist and circle like a carousel, but muscling through the changes reminds you that a car like this requires acclimatisation, a little physical conditioning, and a willingness to plunge into a deep pool of character. Want an antidote to electronic assistance? The Eccentrica is precisely that. It is the opposite of effortlessly gained speed. For those who enjoy a trace of hand grenade in their supercar, it is immense fun; for those seeking only a boulevard cruiser, rather less so. This particular car may still require some tuning for high mountain passes, but its fangs are already plainly visible.

When later becomes now, and the Eccentrica has finished turning over there into here, it prompts a moment of reflection. One consequence of the Eccentrica's... eccentricity is pleasure. A car that looks like this must be fast, but a consciously felt experience is non-negotiable. The Eccentrica still contains the gritty intent of a 1990 Diablo. There is noise. There is vibration. There is challenge. Third gear is like having your adrenal glands lightly defibrillated, while the width, visibility and clutch all suggest a lustful, willing compromise. This is not the convenient pragmatism of a diesel hatchback, but that was never its purpose. It is certainly an easier Diablo, though it begins from a notably high level of awkwardness.

It would be simple to claim that the Eccentrica bears no resemblance to the original, but that would be wrong. It is better because it does not. By retaining so much of the visceral first-generation Diablo experience, Eccentrica improves and renews it rather than remaking it, and the distinction makes the car stronger. In a world short on nuance, where everything is viewed in black and white, the Eccentrica smudges the boundary between old and modern supercars. Preserving the character was the clever choice; and if getting the finest tunes means spending time with the devil, I suppose I will see you in hell.