As strange as it may seem, as I write this month’s column, I am looking down on Greenland. That’s right, nestled in my 10” by 10” seat, with my lap top stuffed up under my chin because the guy in front is fully reclined a scant few inches from my face. I am on my way back from a whirlwind, seven-day trip to England. Hey, this job has to have some perks.
For the automotively inclined, going to England is like making the pilgrimage to Mecca. It’s sometimes hard for us American “gearheads” to believe that in an area smaller than California there are well over 20 racetracks, at least a dozen automotive museums and a bewildering assortment of businesses and industries catering to the classic car enthusiast. I came to England in March (rainy and cold, what else?) on business for the magazine and really had no expectations of getting to see any racing or automotive events while I was there. Wrong.
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