DAWN, MAHIKENG AIRPORT. Orange. Everything’s orange. The car’s orange, the sky’s orange, the Kalahari sand is orange. Even the runway is orange, the North Easter blowing full pelt. Behind the wheel I feel properly berk-like, full-face helmet, asbestos racing gloves, the whole nine yards. A berk because I’m doing 40kph, this is just a photoshoot, a practice run for the real thing later in the morning, when Speedweek gets under way and I can light up the blacktop, trying for 322kph. Still, it’s the business this machine, even as a stroller, the F-Type SVR AWD as loudmouth as the colour suggests, a gobby bawler, five litres of phwoooar, good for 422kW and locomotive amounts of torque. It throws up tractor levels of red dust, even at this pedestrian speed, the…