‘OH NO. YOU’VE REALLY GONE AND DONE it now, Towler.’ I’m not sure if I said that out loud or if the words are just echoing in my head, but whatever, there’s no way the nose of this new Defender is going to survive what I’m bracing for. I’ve locked up and a three-foot-deep gulley is approaching… downhill, at about 40mph. There’ll be a loud crunch, I’ll pull over, tentatively creep around to the front of the car, pull a pained expression at the jagged metal and plastic, then have the inglorious limp back to Bowler’s field set-up, or ‘bivouac’ as they call it, where I’ll have to slope off and hide behind the portable toilet in disgrace.
Instead, the Defender drops down into the hole, springs unfathomably up the other side with the front wheels clear of the ground, then does it again over two more such obstacles
