Ferrari FF and Bentley Continental GT on ice
We come from the north, the brogue and the moccasin in the land of the bearskin boot, a southwards plunge through pine forests, chased by plumes of vortexing snow whipped up in our wake.
Neither time nor distance have any meaning out here. This is Sweden, and it's huge. It has its own pace and rhythm, and you get where you're going by being patient. You can't rush Sweden.