When I was child, I grew up on the island of Jersey which is about as poor a place to drive interesting cars as you could imagine. Some would be worse, I guess, like Guernsey, or even Sark where there are no cars, but it was still pretty miserable. Everyone who liked driving and could afford it owned a cottage just over the water in France, simply so they could let loose on the quiet, open, fast and flowing roads of Brittany.
How Jersey became a race track one day a year | Thank Frankel it's Friday
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