At the famous stone sculpture Mexican Hat, under the fierce sun, I see Joe standing in the distance. Joe is a member of the Navajo Nation. He lives here, sells silver jewellery and collects old trucks. I stop for a chat. Joe loves cars. Revolutions, horsepower. He eyes the GLS, checking out the leather seats, the cockpit, the bonnet.
“How many?” he says. “Eight,” I say. His gaze wanders over the bonnet, the eight cylinders forming in his head. Then Joe says the only thing that could do the moment justice, the iconic words: “Let’s go for a ride.”