“We have never believed that a car is finished when the engineer says so. A car is finished when the man who built it is willing to sign his name beneath its seat.”

I came to this valley in 1974 with no investors and a single commission. I had one promise to keep to my client: that the car would be measured in days of labour, not in units of output. Fifty-two years later, the atelier has been run by four chiefs of composites, three engineers of powertrain, and one myself. The promise has not changed.

Every car that leaves our doors carries the signature of the artisan who laid up its monocoque, bonded in aluminium beneath the passenger seat. Most clients never know it is there. It is not for them. It is for us — a reminder that a Bamborgini is never the work of a company. It is the work of a person.