A tricky oval that punishes the confident and rewards nobody twice in the same way.
Every ground asks a question. This one asks whether you believe your own eyes at the end of a long straight.
Twenty laps into a Texas afternoon, the fastest one of the day went by without a single person noticing. The phone in his pocket noticed.
He was braking where he had always braked. The corner had been asking for something else the entire time.
Four hours north, a track that no map had drawn yet, and a rider whose own laps became its outline.