It is 2 pm on the outskirts of Akron, Ohio. My airport shuttle leaves the hotel in Cincinnati at 5 pm. The GPS in this little blue Honda Fit is indicating a total driving time of 4:04, and it doesn’t know about the twenty-mile detour I spotted coming the other way. Also, on the drive here, I spotted no fewer than twelve separate speed traps.
Well, this should be interesting.
The man across from me is wanted by Interpol. He has employed Ickx, Scheckter, Hunt. Gian Paolo Dallara hand-built him three separate, customized Countachs, for which he browbeat Pirelli into developing an unheard-of 315-series P7 tire. In an off-handed, self-deprecating manner, he tells me of the time he won a Ferrari 512bb over a bet with Enzo Ferrari on the outcome of the 1976 Monaco Grand Prix, based simply on a handshake.