There’s a distant whine of electronics, followed by a whip crack of starter motor… then all hell breaks loose. The source of the noise is out of sight, but it’s almost ungodly as it echoes around our largely lifeless surroundings, the empty buildings and grandstands of Rockingham capturing each glorious decibel and reflecting it back into the pits at the centre of the bowl.

It sounds like the biggest, angriest swarm of hornets that nature could muster, each armed with a chainsaw for added effect. There’s a flash of yellow and red as it rounds the final chicane, and then the tempo rises to the point of deafening crescendo when you’re finally forced to admit that leaving your earplugs at home was actually a bad idea.

This is the sound of a V12. And not just any V12. Perhaps one of the most important V12s ever to come out of Maranello, and it’s certainly bringing this place back to life.