Forgetting the previous night’s issue with the car park, I was volunteered by J to contort into the Cerbera by getting in the passenger side and then moving the Cerbera out of the parking space so we could get the bags in. At one point I thought I was going to get stuck but luckily managed to slide into place.

We loaded the cars up and the navigators for the day compared the route. As we were leading I headed out of the carpark, ready for the drive ahead. The journey started well with having to go the wrong way down the one-way road as it had been blocked off at the end.

After a quick detour back onto the main road we soon lost each other and then hit some major traffic. In modern cars this is merely boring, but the Cerbera had a tendency to overheat when sat in traffic and we had the battle of switching on the additional fans or trying to decide whether it was worth switching the engine off and letting it cool down manually.

The problem with this was the battery, not enough miles and too many stops would result in us losing the ability to start the thing; this was compounded by the fact we were behind a small truck which made it impossible to see if the traffic was moving ahead or not.

Our Hobsons Choice was to either break down by having the engine cut out due to overheating or break down by me running the battery flat. It made the traffic jam far more interesting.

In the end, we started moving and found there had been no accident, it was just that the motorway had been closed due to roadworks – and its entire content of cars and trucks was being dumped onto a small A road which was chocked. J checked the route and re-routed us through various towns and villages. One of which was closed, but the police took pity on the funny English men in a sportscar and let us pass through their Oktoberfest preparation much to the curiosity of the Fräuleins prepping for the event as the 4.2l Cerbera rumbled through, popping and grumbling.

Using the full remit of technology at our hand, we’d location shared our position with the T350. Somehow they’d missed the brunt of the traffic and were sat waiting at a petrol station, coffee in hand checking in on Facebook.

Our plan to leave early and head to the Nurburgring had badly backfired on us. We were running late,

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