http://observer.guardian.co.uk/osm/s...160985,00.html
"If there was a fug of ennui hanging around Montoya, it lifted the instant he got behind the wheel of the BMW M5, provided for the day. Only his big brown eyes were visible as he roared off from the pits, and one of them, I could have sworn, was fixed on me, his whey-faced passenger, as he hurtled towards the first bend at 150mph. Then, maybe 70 yards from the curve, he slammed on the brake and a whoosh of gravity hit me in the stomach. We careened round the corner, and he threw the car to the other side of the bend, chasing down some cones so that they seemed to disappear under the car. So precise is his driving that they were still there as we shot off down the next straight, the speedometer sweeping up once more. My heart rate soared then fell as Montoya screeched to a halt, turned to me, and said: 'You don't have to hold on to the door. It will stay shut by itself.'"