Whenever I see a picture of the Lola T97/30, I'm reminded of the audition episodes of those Pop Idol-type shows (admit it, you watch them too).
The best part of those programmes are the early bits, when they are still separating the wheat from the chaff, because pretty much every week you get to see what happens when someone discovers (often several years too late) that their ambitions - and often, their assessment of their own ability - is dramatically at odds with reality.
Some, when the judges tell them that they're not up to scratch, get angry. Others remain defiant and in denial, often delivering a venomous parting shot to the cameras along the lines of 'the judges don't know what they've missed out on... next time you see me will be on the charts'. (They're my favourite ones). And for some, facing the truth bites hard and they are devastated. You can't help but feel a little sorry for them.
But the thing that they all have in common was that after all the planning, all the dreaming, and all the preparation, when their moment in the bright lights finally came, they were nowhere. And that's what happened with Lola.