The sensation is exquisitely, queasily uncomfortable.
Your pupils have dilated like a crazed cartoon character’s and your chest is tightening more than is medically advisable.
Try not to think about the 850bhp that is propelling you forward – hurling, more like – or the damp runway that clearly hasn’t been swept since the last Cold War.
Ignore the nutter on the superbike, pulling wheelies and trying to goad you into racing. He doesn’t stand a chance: this is a Ruf Rt12R.
No, just keep doing what you’re doing and remember that at some point you’ll want to brake. But not yet.
Alois Ruf’s legendary tuning business became a constructor in its own right in 1981
Okay, that sidewind came out of nowhere.
How fast is fast enough? You don’t want to look like a yellow-belly before handing over the reins to the hotshoes.
Just how much is 300kph in old money, anyway? Divide by eight, multiply by five… Oh, right, yeah, 187.5mph is plenty.
Time to breathe; time for a coffee before exercising the next four cars. Decaf, obviously.
There are not enough adjectives that can amply describe just how mind-bendingly fast this car is, but then Ruf is more than just another modifier of Porsches.
The Ruf CTR ‘Yellow Bird’ in, err, green