Now THAT's what I'm talking about.
In-spite of a sleepless night & a headache, I stumbled out of the house at 06:00 heading for the garage. My steed was clean, polished & duct tape free, looking lithe on the drive. The shape of the Fury continues to take my breath even after almost ten years of ownership.
The sun was almost up, a little early morning mist, painted pink by the sunrise & banded by roadside trees & shrubs. No other traffic to impede my progress. There was a blat on - & it was DRY.
But all too soon we heard the call of home, or at least felt sufficiently guilty about the length of the jobs list our loved ones would've prepared for us & we set off. GB, Steve & Roger were all heading more or less north, while I was making for the west, so I headed off up the A22 alone. After a while a green dot appeared in the mirror & over the course of half a mile or so, resolved itself into the shape of a Porsche 911 - couldn't tell you what type, they all look alike to me, but it was a modern one. Anyway, having passed the cruising Fury, he rounded a roundabout & "gave it large" to use the vernacular, & suffice to say the Fury was not found wanting - at all - in the least.
One acceleration was enough, I was not going to let it develop. I'd proved my point. German engineering? The South Downs is littered with it.