But let’s take a step back, why was I trying to get out the door so fast and where was I heading to?

Long before anyone had heard of Covid, lockdown or Professor Whitty there’d been a few mentions at Welsh Rally meets about doing something with cars that involved travelling around.

I’d managed to get around Majorca on a motorbike and felt like I was a bit of an adventurer. Although, truth be told the mountain sections were utterly terrifying as I biked around the massive drop-offs on a BMW white-knuckled and waiting to be back on the flat.

When the text came in confirming D had found someone who organised TVR trips I was pretty happy about it. Some guy called Ben who did a thing called Pub2Pub, whatever that was. While I sat next to a warm log fire at home I reasoned a jaunt around Europe in a sportscar sounded like a good idea.

I could see myself orating to a spellbound audience about our feats of triumph over adversity in classic sports cars. British stiff upper-lipped blokes conquering the roads of an unruly Europe.

And anyway it was literally forever off so I had plenty of time to get my head around it.

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