You can’t beat climbing into a cold car in the dead of night and firing the engine to wake the neighbours, then setting your seat just so as your eyes adjust to the murky gloom ahead.
It reminds me of that brilliant Volkswagen Golf advert, overlaid with the earthy tones of Richard Burton reciting Under Milk Wood.
Dylan Thomas wrote of hearing the dew falling and the hushed breathing of the ‘black and folded town’ – although that’s a scene as far from London as it’s possible to get.
Unlike the Welsh fishing village of Thomas’s imagination, the capital never really sleeps. At best it manages a fitful doze as city boys drift home under fluorescent lights with a last-gasp dash to mind the gap, and empty buses are laid up for the night.
With streets bathed in half-shut neon, there’s no better time to drive in the city. The silence begs to be broken, and we’ve brought just the tool for the job.
Dropping down to second and getting back on the accelerator, hard, the streets of Soho come alive to the sound of a screaming twin-cam tearing apart the quiet night.