PEAKY BLINDER
IT’S A FOUR TURN OVAL, SO I GUESS THIS IS TURN 2, but the way the car crawls back up the banking as I power onto the back straight never fails to alarm me. I can’t fight it – well, I could but that would be unwise – it’s just what happens as the angle reduces and the car takes its natural path out towards a convergence with a very unforgiving concrete wall. It moves fast, this wall, seeming to descend to meet me as I rise, then to steam alongside like a frantically puffing runaway locomotive until I gladly peel off into the friendly infield.
After five laps I have a new-found respect for all NASCAR drivers, and feel I’ve been driving a car that gives me a bit of that flavour. Because, boy, does it makes a good noise, this wild and bewinged Bentley.
But this car is not for here. And compared with what it’s designed for, an oval is a stroll in a meadow. This is
