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the head-scratching guards at the security gate, the container is unloaded and
the truck driver steers the TT, complete with protective alloy wheel covers
and cling film over the panels, into the workshop.

Prodding and poking begins. "For sure, zis is an alternative approach, ja,"
says Manfred. "Izsa gooda piecea engineering," announces Luca to his gearbox
colleagues. "Ah-so, velly fline tolerances," Harikai thinks to himself.

All are itching to present a weighty summary report to the board. But before
that can be done, a test drive is in order. Which is where it all starts to
go horribly wrong.

In three different parts of the world, the same, sinking state of depression
sets in. "Mein Gott!" mutters Manfred. "Mamma mia," starts Luca, before trailing
off into silence. Harikai says nothing and wonders where he left his samurai
sword.

There is no getting away from it. All of these companies have wasted untold
man hours, blown massive investment budgets, hacked down countless trees to
publish press material and sales brochures galore, and generally cocked up royally.


The point is, the sequential gearboxes that those companies all employ are all
well and good, but they're a long way from being perfect and have a habit of
spoiling the driving process. So, when Audi decided to sex up its TT, it knew
its tick list had to consist of a V6 engine and F1-type transmission. But someone
was smart enough to recognise that not any old gearbox would do. A sequential
gearbox with a difference was required. And, oh, how this one delivers.