I hear the Audi R8 a long time before I see it. Whole minutes earlier. The hollow, baleful wailing rises up the mountains, the sound waves washing against the rocks, slipping through the crevices.
And you know what my first thought is? Not “Can’t wait to have a go in that”, more “That’s it, the Polícia will be on our case within minutes.”* Supercars, even those of an everyday persuasion, tend to leave things in their wake: not least perturbed, talkative locals and readily identifiable sound waves. Especially if they’re yellow.
Unless they’re a Porsche. The 911 Turbo S rolls up a few minutes later, having done the supermarket shop. The back seats contain many crisp packets and chocolate bars. There are many corners between supermarket and mountain top. I didn’t hear it coming at all. I could only identify it as not-another-grey-cloud by the four twinkling LEDs in the headlights.
Photography: Mark Fagelson
This feature was originally published in the December 2015 issue of Top Gear magazine.