Michael McAleer talked his way into the driving seat of the stunning Ford GT for a day.
540 highly-strung horses chomping at the bit. 90mph in second gear. 140mph in third. A price tag in the region of €240,000. And the same front badge as your granny's Fiesta.
We arrive at Stansted with a grin as wide as the Irish Sea. There in the morning sun is the only Ford GT in Europe. And it's ours for the day.
But first, like a new arrival at the Pearly Gates, we must assure the car's nanny that our past record is clean, our intentions pure.
That done, it's . . . heaven. Barely coming up to our waist, the GT's curves hark back to the original GT40, winner of Le Mans three years on the trot from 1966 and blessed with sweeping hourglass looks that would make Marilyn Monroe envious. Now its modern-day twin was built to mark Ford's centenary and no expense was spared.
Though it bears the Ford logo on the front, many of the key mechanicals come from outside experts - US race car builder Roush provides the powertrain, while others provide the body and accoutrements. The V8 engine, officially a take on the Mustang powerplant, bears as much relation to it as to the engine in a Model T.
Roush is also providing the nanny for the day, who hands it over and hopes to get it back in one piece that evening.
The Roush minder offers advice before releasing us to our devices in the car. "Try and avoid wheelspin." He might as well have asked Colin Farrell to leave the girls alone.
The GT sits on its own specially-made Goodyear tyres - 235s up front, 315s at the back. All the power from the supercharged 5.4-litre mid-mounted engine hits the road through these massive swathes of rubber.
And, of course, there's no traction control. So every Newton of forward motion goes through that rubber. They were made to play falsetto to the bass roar of the engine.
The exterior is stunning, but inside it's basic beyond belief . . . silver-coloured plastic, protruding switches, regulation Ford stalks. It's as if some sci-fi nut has converted an old Mondeo interior into a Dr Who set. There's even a touch of the Clockwork Orange car about it.
And at a cost of €240,000? You've got to be kidding. The radio - some US standard issue - can't even pick up any BBC stations. But then what idiot listens to a radio in a GT anyway.
This car's about the drive, about the engine behind your right ear. Pushing the starter button, we expect an explosion. We're not disappointed. Ford, taking on board initial complaints that the engine sound wasn't meaty enough, tuned and widened the rear exhaust system. Now it sounds just like the old GT - and the engineers are dreading Germany's tough noise regulations.
That's no concern of ours. We've got a day's driving to get through. Besides, the cabin cocoons you enough to let you chat without shouting - until you gun the throttle.
Which we do . . . and it's off for a day, part of which is on the public roads of East Anglia. Heading for our first stop at Newmarket, we drive around Essex - it's blue oval country where the Escort remains the car of choice , and the Capri is the ultimate status symbol.
Lots of Ford Transits cross our path. For their drivers, the GT is like an apparition. They've seen it in magazines, they've heard about it down the local Frog and Tadpole, but now they're sharing road space with it. They've got to pull alongside, even try a little overtaking. "I came as fast as I could, luv. Even, overtook a GT on the way."
The GT could take the first three