So level 2 at BMW is no less impressive than level 1 - the quality of the instruction, and the humour with which it is delivered, is right up there where I have come to expect it to be.

My mechanical chaperone is a BMW X-Challenge, whom I have nicknamed "Tabitha". I don't know why I chose that name. 650cc of torque wrapped into 150kg of German precision engineering. The rear suspension is an air-shock, which fully expands when it is unloaded - having a tendency to want to throw you in the air as you dismount.

The Missus dropped me off at the centre, and then went on her merry way fun-hunting round rural Wales with the Wee Yin in tow. The Wee Yin saw Simon Pavey and got all bashful about it. Aww, bless. Anyway, their adventures included caves, waterfalls and adventure parks I am told. The sun came out fairly early on, and it turned into a very pleasant July day.

My morning began with a recap of the Level 1 stuff, but a bit tougher. Slow-speed circling in smaller marked-out squares, having to lock the front wheel longer when skidding, hill recovery on steeper slopes. There was also the added extra of having Simon Pavey's son snapping away merrily and taking photographs.

Unfortunately for him, and for me, he got a bit carried away with one of the "head-on" shots he was taking and I ploughed right into him. He thought I was going to steer around him, I thought he was going to jump out of the way at the last minute. Ouch.

I bumped into Simon later on and said

"I ran over your son. Sorry".

He looked at me.

"You ran over my son, and you're sorry?".

"Yes", I replied.

He shook my hand. "Why are you sorry? Well done! I wish he would stand in front of me long enough for me to do it".

Our instructors in Level 2 were Gary Taylor (Dakar 2010) and a huge Irishman called "Big Al" (Dakar 2004).

Carnage and mayhem did a runner when the sun came out. The ground was damp, and there were puddles, but nothing like as bad as it could have been. No need for heated grips or hand dryers today.

The highlight of the day was brake turns. Brake turns are proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy. The lesson started with Gary pointing at the back wheel of his bike.

"Can anybody tell me what this is?"

We looked at eachother like he had gone mad.

"It's a wheel", said one of the guys.

"Not quite", replied Gary. "It's a rudder"

You accelarate the bike to speed, then you slam on the back brake to start a skid. Once the wheel locks, then you give your arse a flick and turn the handlebars sharply - the back end starts to swing out. When it is halfway round the corner, you release the brake and open the throttle. Roost spews everywhere, the bike continues to slide round the corner, and then powers off in the direction you want to go. It's a lot like the way you used to skid a bicycle as a kid, except you've got 650cc of BMW to assist in accelarating away.

I got a bit carried away with this, and high-sided. A high-side is where you skid sideways, then the top of the bike falls over - in the direction you are travelling. It launches you into the air - springboard style - and you fly high enough to have sufficient time to contemplate how much the landing is going to hurt. And it hurt. I landed sort of head-first, but must have been upside down in the air because as soon as I hit the deck I tumbled and somersaulted a few times. I sat up, counted my limbs and digits, and wondered which way was which. The guys in my group assisted me in getting my bearings by helping me realise where they were through some fairly loud clapping and cheering. I stood up and took a bow, then went to inspect the damage to the bike. Snapped clutch lever, which was replaced in under a minute by Gary. I found an iron bar lying around, and straightened the gear lever. Good as new.

Then some trail riding. One thing I noticed is that I am carrying a lot more speed. I very rarely use first gear, whereas on previous BMW visits I very rarely changed out of first gear. This may well be that the grip was a lot better, or it may be that I am more confident or more skilled, or it may be a combination of all of these. In any event, we were getting a bit of a move-on through the trails.

One guy - a big guy called Rich - was riding a GS1200. That's quarter of a metric tonne of bike. We took a wrong turning, up a very narrow and slippery trail, and had to turn around. He was trying to turn the bike, with limited success, and I jumped off my bike to help him. I suggested we drop the bike on its side and just drag the back wheel round. The bike just slid effortessly round in the mud. He was very impressed. I explained that when you are built like I am, you can't rely on brute force - you need to be smart.

One guy in our group - a guy called Alex - rides bikes off road and has a couple of KTMs. It escapes me why he was there. He spent all day saying "Ooh-arr! I is driving my tractor" - referring to the weight of the BMW. He also felt the need to overtake absolutely everybody at every opportunity - giving them a good roosting in the process - even though we were trail riding (which is single-file, nobody is racing nobody). It must have seemed rational to him (blogs passim), but there just didn't seem to be any point other than convincing people that he was a bit of an arse.

We came to a really really steep hill in a quarry - with a 6-foot vertical shelf at the top - and he started banging on about how easy it would be.

"Go on then", I said to him. "I got a tenner says you won't make it".

His demeanour changed a little.

"Why don't you?" he asked.

"Because I don't think I'd make it. But you obviously think you can, so go on then"

To be fair, he gave it a go, but wiped out almost at the bottom of the hill. He had another go, and did the same thing. He didn't do any more overtaking after that.

I gave serious thought to taking on that slope. But, if I had failed to do it and injured myself, then my weekend was over. No lessons in rut-riding. The old bull (blogs passim) would have recommended not giving it a go, and saving my strength for, em, "rutting". My ageing friend's words were ringing in my ears - "do the wrong things, you'll have problems". I came here to learn how to ride rut, not to wipe myself out getting up a steep hill in some silly pissing contest with a guy who gets kicks out of overtaking people who are just not racing eachother.

I had a spill going up a really muddy and slippy slope. The guy in front fell off and I got off my bike to help him. After sending him on his way, I re-mounted and quickly realised that the hill was too slippy to get traction without momentum. The bike went sideways and started to topple - down the hill - and there was no way I could put my leg out to save her. Over she went and ploughed the handlebar into the ground, snapping my second clutch lever of the day. Since we had no more spares, I had to ride the next half-hour with only half a clutch lever. Now that took some doing - my fingers still hurt.

The Missus and Wee Yin picked me up back at the centre and back to Dderi Farm, where it would seem that we have made a real friend of one of the sheepdogs. They are off pony-trekking tomorrow (The Missus and the Wee Yin, not the dogs), so it looks like we all get the chance to do a bit of off-roading.

I got into the car, and went to drive away. As I did so, Gary - my instructor - started shouting at me to "STAND UP!" (a reference to the fact that they want you to do everything on your pegs). It is this sense of humour that makes BMW such an enjoyable experience. Couple this with excellent tuition, and you have all of the ingredients of a great time.

Tomorrow, ruts. Then my skills as a Jedi will be complete. In the words of Yoda, "no more training will I require". Having been shown what are the right things to do, and the right way to do them, it is now all about practice. First race on Saturday, should be a good start.

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