It was a ridiculous road at which to point such a car. Fifty miles long, narrow, twisting, with complex radii, treacherous cambers and ever-changing surfaces, me and the bloke in the passenger seat briefly considered what we’d most want to drive here. An Alpine A110? Maybe. A Caterham 620S or Ariel Atom 4 more like. But absolutely and categorically not an air-sprung Bentley weighing just a fraction less than 2.2 tonnes.