TG chats to Bruce Willis*
Larry shrugs his shoulders. These things happen. He strong-arms me into the hot seat of the driving rig, and talks me through the controls. It's an auto, with a hideously stiff accelerator pedal, brakes you have to stamp on to activate, and no power steering. It doesn't self-centre, either, and judging by that practice outlap, doesn't like to work properly all the time. "Just take your time," he says. I do. I take a lot of time, because driving a Mercedes E-Class while perched on its roof in a makeshift rollcage doesn't inspire me to set purple fastest times. It does to Larry though. Within a few moments of him behind the wheel, he's screeching around like a pro. Later I discover why.