GT3 uncorked

We’re head-butting the pit lane limiter right up to a few feet before the mechanic’s feet. The 720S GT3X comes to an abrupt stop, splitter to toe, and Euan Hankey instantly kills the engine. I’m about to ask a question, but the doors are already open and he’s on his way out of the car. Are we on fire? That wasn’t the question, but now I’m wondering if it should have been. While I was looking the other way someone has undone my belts and if I don’t start clambering out PDQ, maybe I’ll be in a BBQ.

But then I twig the reason for the urgency. It’s about maintaining heat rather than avoiding it. We’ve spent a large part of the previous three laps braking in odd places and darting through imaginary chicanes on the straights with the aim of getting temperature into the tyres. Now that the slicks are static the hard-won warmth is seeping out of the super softs with every passing second. In the nicest way possible, Euan does not want to be sitting next to someone acclimatising to a tricked-up GT3 race car on cold rubber.