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650S Spider
It’s 9:00am, late July. The British summer has been kind this year, the clouds charitable in their absence, the sun unusually conspicuous. Today, it’s wet. We’re on our way to McLaren, Woking. The incessant torrent is relentless, and visibility on this particularly drab, grim day is laughable. Or not. It’s Friday, the ABS-reliant commuter mafia…