It's a cold and damp winter's morning. The weak early sun is trying to break through the clouds. You've trudged a couple of miles across the forest to find the perfect spot. Other people have had the same idea and as the crowd grows, so does the expectation in the air. The assembled rally fans chatter excitedly about the day ahead, then suddenly something happens that transfixes the throng.
Somewhere over there in the distance you hear an angry bark. Not an animal, but the characteristic sound of a Cosworth BDA engine searing to the red-line. The bark turns to a ferocious snarl as two gaping Weber carbs gulp down Zeppelin-sized lungfuls of air. Then bark-bark-bark, the throttle blips on the downchange for a corner.