Kyosho Ferrari 512BB
In the late Sixties and early Seventies Ferrari enjoyed offering, and Ferraristi enjoyed buying, one of the legendary cars of Italy. It was the last of a long line of front-engined sports/race cars, and it was named after a track where Ferraris had won glory. Of course, that car was the 365GTB/4 and its convertible twin, the 365GTS/4 -- the Daytonas.
But the seed of its demise had been sown some years earlier, by Lamborghini, and it was called the Miura. Where the Daytona continued the tradition of the 250s and 275s, Lamborghini sprang ahead, building a mid-engined supercar with a transverse V-12. Not one to let his sworn enemy appear to hold the lead, Enzo Ferrari decreed that a mid-engined car should take the Daytona's place.
So the engineering began: the new engine's Vee would be flattened to 180 degrees, a horizontally opposed "flat-12", often called a "Boxer" engine. The radiator would retain its position in the nose, and the coolant lines would run under the doorsills. These parameters locked in certain proportions, and the design specification went, of course, to Pininfarina. The car that came out of this specification was the 365GT4/BB, with the "BB" standing for "Berlinetta Boxer" -- Berlinetta, of course, meaning a hardtop coupe. The car was low and mean-looking, with the body painted black below the beltline. (The black panels were fiberglass, incidentally.) The rear tires stood out under an impressive, muscular set of flared fenders. Few people would say it matched the Daytona for beauty, but what it lacked in beauty it made up in menace.
That was 1974. Perhaps through no coincidence, 1974 was the last year of production for Lamborghini's Miura, and the first year for something new: the legendary Countach. Suddenly, the pressure was on Ferrari again, to evolve or admit defeat.
If the 365GT4/BB looked menacing, the Countach looked downright psychopathic. Everything about it -- from the scissors-type doors to the big rear wing -- was outrageous, over the top. Parked next to the Countach, the Ferrari paled to mediocrity.
Ferrari needed a Bigger Stick.
Rather than develop a whole new model, it was decided they would adjust the just-developed Boxer. A few changes to the engine, deletion of two of the six taillights, and addition of NACA duct intakes low, behind the doors led to the new model: 512BB, which shared the number with a series of successful Ferrari racers. Five liters, twelve cylinders, Berlinetta Boxer -- it wasn't the Big Stick the Countach was, but it would have to do until they had something more impressive.
Ferrari's fortunes in this rivalry were no doubt aided by the fact that Lamborghini was chronically underfinanced. The other Lamborghinis of the time -- the Jalpa, Urraco, and LM002 -- were dropped from the line, to concentrate on the flagship Countach. Still, several times production of Countaches in the factory at Sant'Agata stopped altogether as the money ran out. And if the Boxers weren't approved for sale to the world's biggest market for cars -- the US -- well, neither were the Lambos.
The upshot of this saga is that, from its introduction in 1976, the 512BB carried Ferrari's torch (gaining fuel injection along the way to become the 512BBi) until 1984, when it was replaced by Ferrari's wild-looking Big Stick, the Testarossa. (Then Lamborghini went and got a BIGGER Stick, the Diablo, and suddenly the Testarossa looked tame again!)
And that's the history of the 512BB. The car was said to be an excellent performer, sprinting from 0-60 in just over five seconds, with a top speed of around 180mph. Its engine was a little high, which could make it a handful in cornering, and the Michelin TRX tires were good for their day, but don't begin to approach modern tires. Ergonomics were a little difficult, rear visiblity was poor (but better than the Lamborghini's!), and owners complained that the coolant lines running under the doors heated the cockpit uncomfortably. Still, that was considered part of the price you pay for driving a Ferrari.
And Kyosho's model of this car sits a few feet away from me, placidly minding its own business. In its red-over-black paint scheme it still looks menacing, and from some angles you can see exactly what Pininfarina was trying to do with the shape. More important now, is what Kyosho has done with it.
Kyoshos are expensive models: I bought this one new, paying just over sixty dollars for it. This is when I can buy Maistos for $10, Bburagos for under $20, and UTs for under $30. But at the time it was the only 512BB to be had, and besides, that extra money has to buy you something better, right?
Not always, but this time, it does.
This model is NOT a disappointment. Almost everything is done right on this car -- not everything, but almost.
The first thing you notice is the finish. Where most models will have a subtle "orange peel" effect, as if the surface were finished with a planishing hammer, this model's surface is truly smooth. It looks almost liquid in certain light. The paint is excellent, but not perfect: on one of the headlight covers, there is a fingerprint where somebody touched it when the paint was still wet. (I tried rubbing it out, and no, it's not my fingerprint!)
With a thumbnail I gently pry those headlight covers upward. Unlike most diecast cars, they swivel up, revealing an excellent set of round quad headlamps. My Polistil F40 also has headlights that raise up, but at the price of not having an opening trunklid. My Road Legends BMW 850i has headlights that pop up, but the lenses are stickers, and look terrible.
Kyosho does it right -- almost. The left headlight bucket, in the down position, is slightly, very slightly, out of plane with the surrounding sheetmetal on my model.
Opening the trunk shows us some more of where the money goes: it's carpeted underneath, with a carpeted cover for the spare tire. The brake fluid reservoir is painted white, with a black cap; the windshield washer fluid tank is pale blue, also with a black cap. The underside of the hood, and the rest of the metal area underneath, is painted flat black, after Ferrari practice.
Let's open a door to look inside. The door is spring-loaded, and wants to pull shut, until we pass a certain point. After that it settles into an open detent, showing us the excellent interior: the floor is carpeted in the same grey as the trunk; the seats feel like leather (some say they are); the toggle switches on the console are highlighted with silver paint; the seatbelt receptacles with red release buttons. The seatbelts hang from the rear deck (also carpeted), with silver buckles. The gauges are red on black, and the pedals -- well, they're hard to see in that dark footwell, but they're there, and they're the right size and shape.
The only weakness apparent in that interior is the steering wheel hub: it's just plain yellow, without the cavallino that should be there.
While we've got that door open, let's take a look at it: it has a thick metal profile, with only the liner appearing as thin black. It shows a silver striker plate in the door. The threshold on the doorsill looks like a strip of aluminum. The door has a full window frame, painted black, with a completely framed and glazed vent window in the corner.
Even the precisely formed drip rail above the door is carefully painted black, as it should be.
Let's close the door (satisfying mini-thunk) and take a look under the hood, where the mighty flat-12 lies.
On opening the hood we immediately notice the careful paint: again, the underside is black, as is the engine compartment. Here we see the first shortcut: the louvered grille in the hood is only surface detailing, not actually cut through. Oh, well.
The engine is the best-detailed I've seen yet in a stock model: the block and bellhousing are aluminum-colored. The air intakes covering the six Weber carbs are black, secured by little silver bolts. The oil filler cap, and some other parts, are gold. The coil is mounted on the left fender, with a single white wire leading away, presumably to the distributor. We can locate the hidden distributor by the giveaway nest of twelve (yes, twelve) white sparkplug wires, running from there out along the heads.
Also on the left fender is the fuel filler tube, topped with a tiny chromed cap, and if it doesn't like up perfectly with the filler door in the sail panel, it's still more than I've seen from another diecast Ferrari.
Turning the model over (notice how heavy it is!) shows us a rear suspension with twin rear shocks, red with black springs (not functional). We can see similar shocks on the front suspension. Besides that, there is a lot of aluminum-colored underside to the engine, and a lot of gold-painted exhaust system. The detail on these last two seems somewhat less than it might have been -- I have seen better undersides on cheaper models. Still, it's acceptable.
While I'm complaining, I'll bring up two points: 1) the front tires don't turn very far in either direction, and 2) this car, oddly, has a solid axle linking the rear wheels. The only other cars in my collection with this type of axle are Ansons.
If, as Mies van der Rohe said, God is in the details, then the Kyosho 512BB is richly blessed. A wealth of details meet you everywhere you look, usually perfectly executed: the crisp tread of the tires. The knock-offs on the wheels, reversed for opposite sides (that says it's a Euro model, since knock-offs were outlawed in the US in 1967). The exquisite single-blade wiper. The round taillights: red inner brake lights, amber outer turn signals, with white centers for back-up lights. The superbly formed tubular finials on the four exhaust pipes. The open silver grille in the trunklid. The photoetched radiator grille below the front bumper, with white driving lights mounted behind. The rear tires that are subtly -- very subtly -- wider than the fronts, with the "star" pattern wheels more deeply dished.
And, to my mind, the best detail of all: when you open the trunklid, it appears to be propped open by two tiny pneumatic struts. Sure, they're not really pneumatic, but they are a tiny rod sliding in a tiny tube.
It's this jewellike detail that symbolizes Kyosho's attention to excellence. This, as much as anything else, is why I'll buy more Kyoshos in the future.
To sum it up:
Strengths: General excellence almost everywhere you look.
Weaknesses: Simplified underside, solid rear axle, narrow steering angle of front tires.
Overall: The best model in my collection, and worth every cent.
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