A yellow Can-Am car is alongside me -- the driver has his suit and helmet on, and he's on his way out to the track for a qualifying session. Holy shit. All of these supposed experts and enthusiasts think this is an original GT40.
I readily admit I'm a little nervous now. Even amongst all the sights and sounds at one of the world's most incredible events, this is a new level of insanity. I'm not supposed to be here, but apparently I'm the only one who knows that. I see an area without cars or people where I can regroup, and by the time I stop the car and have my phone out to look at a map, I'm completely surrounded by people taking photos, filming, watching me, and talking about the car. If anyone realized it's not original, they didn't say a word.
Starting the GT40 up again attracts even more attention, and I'm suddenly hyper-aware of just how hard this beast is to drive. The only thought running through my brain is don't kill it. Don't fucking kill it. Everyone is staring at you, so whatever you do don't kill it. I manage to smoothly drive off, looking like I own the place. I silently thank the car gods once more.