I don’t think I’d ridden the downhill bike for a couple of months. I’d put it away after a partic­u­larly rubbish ride and didn’t get it out again. It collec­ted a lot of dust. The chain went rusty. I nicked it’s stem for my XC bike. It’d been languish­ing for so long that the forks had forgot­ten how they worked. Garry picked it up, rode it around the car park and nearly flew off the back. No damping at all. A few bounces and they came back to life though. Good old 888s.

We push upwards. This is ridicu­lous. I’m knackered already. The bike weighs as much as the moon and the top of the hill seems to be nearly as far away. Why did I even bother? This bike is rubbish.

We get to the top and natter on a bit before setting off. I pull on the full-facer, then the goggles, stand on the pedals and try to drag the thing up to speed. It feels slow and lumber­ing and squidgy and doesn’t pedal very well. Still think this bike’s rubbish.

Then we begin to pick up speed. Faster, faster, faster…

Arrive at the first whoop much faster than expec­ted, pump through it, clatter over the roots and pin it into the big berm. Rail it around, over the top and down the chute, ba-ba-ba-bam through the braking bumps. BRARRRP! Rail it around the big off-camber, through the nadgery bit like it’s not even there and down onto the next path.

WHOOP WHOOP! This bike’s bloody brilliant!

Roll into “The dragon’s tail”, zig, zag, whoa, off camber, phew, around the tree, off the brakes, WHEEEE! Through the berm, over the hip, then rag it through the s-bend. The back wheel is trying to climb out of the berm! I’ve got a huge grin plastered across my face by the end.

It was all brilliant until the last run of the evening. I got high-sided riding across some damp grass and was uncere­mo­ni­ously dumped on my arse. Other riders stood a good fifty yards away heard the shout, thud and subsequent swearing.

Even that couldn’t ruin it though. Downhill bikes are brilliant!