There’s a point, 7,000 RPM, where everything fades. The machine becomes weightless, just disappears. And all that’s left is a body moving through space and time. 7,000 rpm. That’s where you meet it. It asks you a question. The only question that matters. Who are you?



Now, 7,000 RPM as the limit of the GT’s engine? Fine, great, nothing wrong with that (assuming it was accurate). But 7,000 RPMs as some kind of magical and mystical number in life? That’s nonsense.