Choose waking up at some unearthly hour at the weekend. Choose travelling the length and breadth of the country. Choose chasing points, no prizes and plenty of pain. Choose heartburn in sub zero temperatures and lung bustin’ lactic that could halt an army. Choose tortured components, spliced tubs and mud like quicksand. Choose washing, soaping, sponging and rebuilding until all your neighbours have long since been smashed on cheap champagne and tucked away in bed. Choose ripping yourself up in an hour and spending the following week recovering from the knocks. Choose sore knees, deep freeze and David Bowie LP’s. And the reason? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you’ve got ‘cross?”