Formula Ford racer through London
TG suggested Ford make a road-legal version of its racer and let us drive it on real streets. They did…
Posted: 10 Dec 2012
Directly behind my ears lurks a whacking intake that sucks in air for the Ford's turbo and churns out an insane symphony of snorting, whistling, air-bashing tunes. Imagine the bark of a walrus with a heavy cold piped through a Hendrix fuzz pedal, and you're getting close.
A pair of golden arches loom ahead (other burger joints are available, etc.). I am hungry and cold and require something hot and greasy to reduce my projected lifespan by at least 60 years. Gingerly over the sleeping policemen, up to the intercom to order. The intercom is mounted at least three feet above my head, rendering communication near-impossible. With a combination of muffled shouting and strategic use of the horn, I place an order. I have no idea what for. Pull forward to pay. The cashier doesn't bat an eyelid at the strange spectacle. "Four twenny, mate," he nods.