It’s the dumbest plan anyone’s ever come up with, but it’s the only one I’ve got.
As I motor over the crest, I can see the huge Russian lorry poking through the trees on the edge of the cliff. It’s the Tatra Force, and it’s going to be in my garage soon. I slam the pedal to the metal and ram straight into the back of it.
Entwined like great, ungainly metal lovers, the Tatra and my Loadstar plunge off the edge and – with a surprising amount of gentle grace given that I’ve essentially just dropped a truck on top of another truck – slide towards the riverbank below. Halfway down, I realise that my other ride, the one that’s sitting at the bottom of the cliff, is parked right in the path of the metal avalanche.
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