THE RAP PACK

What do you do when you're in God's playground with a pair of Raptors? Try to outjump each other, obviously...

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JR: I'm leaning on the Bronco's balcony sized wheelarches, forehead slowly curling at the corners like a kettle chip in the bone dry heat, when I feel it - a subsonic rumble, resolving into a heavy metal V8 blare and finally a sandstorm as an Irn-Bru orange F-150 Raptor R comes barreling towards me, drifts a perfect circle inches from the Bronco's bumpers to ensure no crack or crevice remains undusted and skids to a stop. The door opens, I'm flapping and coughing, pulling my deeply unimpressed face while secretly being slightly impressed...

JB: Jack! You are too kind. You really are. I know I'm a guest in the TopGear world, but you don't have to always submit in these little faceoffs before we've even got going. I'm a big boy and can take defeat. Grudgingly. But it seems that won't be tested today! Looks like my Raptor R wins in, um, every single conceivable way, right?

JR: I'll just stop you there, before your gloating gets out of hand, because if I'm not mistaken your truck has the engine from a blue-collar Mustang, whereas mine has the heart of a supercar. The same, OK mildly detuned, engine as the Ford GT supercar, and that my friend is called pedigree.

JB: Yes, you have a smaller and much dumbed down version of the very weakest part of the Ford GT. Cool. A mighty 3.0-litre V6 - admittedly twin-turbocharged - with 412bhp.

Pushing, what, 2,600kg? Whereas, the Raptor R has a 5.2-litre supercharged V8 with SEVEN HUNDRED HORSEPOWER.

Would you like to just leave now? We don't have to do this...