After some more hooning, the route map is retired to the passenger footwell, alongside the bag we’d been unable to fit in the boot. After cruising down a coastal road, we spot a sign that simply reads, ‘Autodrome’…
You know we do!
By now it is nearly 5pm, and we sign off our day at the Circuito Do Estoril, formerly home to the Portuguese Grand Prix. Though we are unable to sample the car’s handling on-track, we lose nearly an hour discussing the Roadster’s merits and filling our cameras’ memory cards.
It is only as we listen to the engines tick themselves cool that the first yawn breaks the surface. None of us have enjoyed more than an hour’s sleep since setting off for work nearly two days earlier, and yet we’d hardly noticed once on the road.