Yesterday I remembered a hill climb I went to in France with my dad and brother when I was about eight. We had a beautiful view of the side of the hill where cars came from the left, ascended in front of us and made a hairpin turn to climb higher to the right, like marbles going the wrong way up a staggered chute. And like marbles the cars were pretty blues and reds and yellows.

They tore up the road urgently, angrily, engines snarling and snorting with every gear shift.

One car  fishtailed out of the hairpin and lost control, toppling like a toy down the side of the hill.