Imagine you’re a spy shooter at the Nürburgring. You’ve got your ancient Ford Scorpio parked nearby, but you’ve hoofed it up to the top of a hill in the hopes of getting the perfect angle on the track. Three heavy cameras are strung about your body like you’re a contestant in The World’s Strongest Man competition. It’s early and you are tired. And cold. The morning temperature was in the single digits Celsius, and while you’re not exactly sure what that translates to in the Fahrenheit scale, this certainly ain’t Miami. Funk Flex