Somewhere between St. Tropez and the dusty start of the rally route, when the adrenaline kicks in: No bats, no hallucinations - just 300 hp stabbing straight into the chest like a faulty heart-lung machine. But by then it was already too late. Sébastien Loeb had his foot on the gas pedal of the Alpine A110 GT+ and left it there for six or seven seconds, acting precisely, mercilessly, definitively.
We drive the first five kilometers of a special stage that he can do in his sleep. A strip of asphalt between Gonfaron and Collobrières - carved up by Loeb with clockwork precision. In the rear-view mirror: nothing. In front of us: nothing but bends, potholes and the sloping south of France.