Let me tell you a story of horror and sadness. Sydney. A spring long weekend. A much-anticipated and expensive track day at Sydney’s premier racetrack. Then, on the drive out to the track, the heavens open and spill their horrible, grey wrath onto the earth in never-ending demonic sheets. Grown men wept and shook their damp, wrinkly fists at the sky.
I had grand plans for colourful action shots of speeding machinery and bitumen. Instead, I got a lens full of empty track and grown men in leather snoozing in fold-up chairs, $250 dollars out-of-pocket. I did my best – hopefully the shots have captured the essence of the day without making you want to slash your wrists. Please enjoy in a silent, respectful sort of a way.
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