A poor night behind me, sleepless start to finish, and I met the day on two hours’ rest and little patience for it. Still, there was my brother to collect from the airport, which I would not have traded away for the sleep. In the better part of the afternoon I bottled two gallons of the hard lemon soda and primed each with sugar, hoping to coax out the fizz that the last batch, tasty as it was, never quite found; a week in the bottle will be the judge of that. I closed out the eight-hour endurance race at Spa on the simulator, a long campaign brought to its proper end. Then I went to bed at five, without apology, and counted it the wisest decision I made all day.