We departed early for a half-day in the mud at our single track training ground. Two weeks earlier and 4 days of rain prior, we saw an adult 'slipNslide' playground. Today we were lucky, we had drier ground. Lead rider was Marcus, - the Clark Kent of dirt bike riding - lawyer by day and single track slayer by weekend. An aficionado of the Cotter, Marcus regretted the day he met us I'm sure, he spent most of his time pulling bikes out of bog holes and lifting 150kgs frequently from the ground on a too frequent basis. Marcus tackled all hills with ease - he carved this part of the country with his own wheels so it obeyed his every command. However, we were strangers to this area; DDN, aka Nasty, tackles a G3 hill with anger, looking good for the first 20 meters, then ... KA-POW; the bike spits him off like a bull-rider, and DDN does an amazing series of 4 or 5 tumbles down the steep hill with a thump on each touch-down :eek1 . It’s Marcus to the rescue <AGAIN>as I watched-on and chuckle within my helmet once I saw he could walk – it’s going to take alot of Voltarins to ease that pain! I was going to take the hill but then had second thoughts...maybe next time. A burger with the lot, my new mistress did me well this time; we’ve only been together for a few hours and had a hard time on our first date prior, as she got all hot and flustered, some say a hussy. But like all women, spending $$ and bling on accessories, and setting the map switch to soft, calmed her down, and she wooed me, purring like a kitten - and didn’t spit coolant at me once. Now we are a perfect match – don’t tell my wife Half a day later and 2 kgs heavier each with mud, we head back to my abode for an ale or two and a BBQ to discuss our next single track adventure.