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With my head buried deep in my race guide, a thousand miles away, I feel a hand on my shoulder. Turning my head to the left I see my good friend Michelle. We had car pooled to the track earlier that morning with her husband and a few other friends. In amongst the hustle and bustle of the keen racing enthusiasts we had managed to find a tall round bar table and some stools to stand at for the day, somewhere to place our drinks, girls to put their handbags and rest their feet. My eyes glance behind Michelle.

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