It’s a brisk morning, early January, in suburban Valencia for the rendezvous.
The raceway’s garages were shut.
The track, silent — the flanked banks of cold concrete seats, empty.
But there was a flicker of activity on the approach.
The incongruous pop of luminous traffic cones in the grey morning light, only just visible through a gap in the car park’s security fence.
But when it comes to genuine …