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Picture the scene. You're diving down an 18 per cent gradient hill along the banks of Loch Something-or-other, exhaust note screaming, tumbledown stone walls a blur as the speedometer ticks over 160mph. You're approaching a corner and billowing red flags on the right-hand side of the road warn that it's a severe left-hander, but the flatter you can make your racing line the more speed you can carry through it.Spying a generous dusting of loose gravel on the apex, the 1000hz portion of your lizard brain that's dedicated to driving cars fast instinctively decides to drop two wheels on the dirt. At the very least it'll straighten the line through the bend and, if you're really lucky, you can even use some drag to help rotate the car for a swift exit.
Except you don't get your swift exit, because a giant, invisible hand has pinched the car's spoiler betwixt thumb and forefinger. You're dimly aware of a repetitive chiming sound as the speedo tumbles to 45mph. The DriveClub fun police have arrived, and this is their siren.
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