Life, like bikes, is all about balance. Not just keeping your balance and not falling over, but keeping everything in balance. Every up must have a down, every left must have a right (unless you're a speedway rider), and every 'andful must have a brake. If you overcook any one of these at the expense of its pair, then you'll have problems.

AJP was a family affair today. There was Steve, his son James, his brother Dave and Dave's son Alex. Steve was the instigator for it all - "one of those things to do before you die", he told me. They all hailed from Wembley, and all had real Guy Ritchie style London accents. Steve and James both worked as electrical engineers on the National Grid - James had just started an apprenticeship a few months ago. Dave was an auto electrician, and his son Alex spray painted Mercedes and Porches in an accident repair shop.

We set out, fuelled up , and headed onto the Plain. I did my throw-the-bike-on-the-floor with a bit too much energy and snapped the front brake lever. This did impress me a bit, since I've never snapped the brake lever before - it's always the clutch. I've even been throwing the bike on her right side for this very reason. A possible rethink may be needed here.

I explained to the guys why we ride on our pegs, lower centre of gravity stuff, and off we set in search of ruts and mud and mayhem. Normally, we hit them in that order, but it was a bit different today.

We done the ruts right where we always find them, then we run along this narrow track at the side of a wood - more ruts. At the end of this track is a nasty off-camber right turn before we set off down the field. As we came to the woods, I saw a brand new sign - "NO TIPPING. Site Under Surveillance". I always look for signs, since they tell us of impending byway closures, but this was just tipping so no problem.

Well, sort of. I turned the corner at the end of the wood into the field and nearly smashed right into the front of the waiting Police car. Oops. I did the only thing that can be done at signs of trouble - give it 'andful. Of course, I waved as I roosted past. I mean, I'm not rude.

James, right behind me, followed my example. Done the corner-police-oh-shit-andful-wave thing. Alex, right behind dave, got as far as the corner-police-oh-shit part. The shock of nearly hitting a Police car made him snatch a brake and fall over.

So the two policemen in the car, thinking that they wer eonly seeing one or two bikes, were now confronted with half a dozen of them, and the Gods had rather helpfully dropped one of them on his arse about a foot away. This was just asking for a tug, and the tug duly arrived.

Martin hopped of his bike and spoke with them. We were legal where we were, and were planning on staying legal, and all the bikes were taxed and insured so no problem. It turned out that they weren't there to catch bikers, they were there to evict somebody who had camped in the wood in a campervan.

Or at least they would have evicted him, if he could drive. Inside the campervan was one seriously stoned hippy who - apparently - had over-indulged on some mushrooms or something and wasn't going to be driving anywhere until the grass had changed from pink back to green or whatever.

We showed the guys how to get over logs and tree-trunks, then how to cope with whoops and ditches, and set off into the trees. Alex was a bit of a motocrosser, and wasn't too keen on the trees - which made me wonder why he wanted to hug them so often.

Into the woods and we let the guys loose on the enduro track. This is where they start stitching tihngs together and develop their skills and their confidence. Those woods always bring big big grins out of people - especially when they realise that they are doing things which would have terrified them only a few hours before.

When we stopped for lunch, for some reason the conversation got onto films. Then it got onto Lord of the Rings. Then it got onto "if you were a character in Lord of the Rings, what character would you be?".

We decided that Martin would be Gandalf - wily and grumpy - and that I would be Gimli - short arse livewire. Well, the Gimli thing was hotly disputed - some people thought it should be Gollum since I look so much like him.

Since it was Saturday, we had a bit of a Heineken day - and were able to get onto the parts of the Plain where other beers don't reach. This normally means getting lost, but we did check that Martin and I both had maps this time.

Martin was leading and, as he took another one of those "where does this go then?" right turns of his, I stopped to get a position fix. The last time he did this, I ended up having to climb up the roof of an artillery observation tower to try and figure out where we were, so I wasn't getting caught out this time. My map and compass at least put me on the right map, and the other stuff I could see told me where we were. So now I had to catch the guys up, and they were at least a mile ahead.

I tore off down the track, which undulated up and down - it was obviously for tank training. Normally, I'd roll over the bumps but I was getting a bit of a move on so Physics had other ideas. I saw the series of bumps coming up and realised that I was going a bit too quick. I also realised that trying to grab the front brake would result in a bit of carnage. So I did the sensible thing.

I squeezed the front brake lightly to shed a bit of speed. Squeezing the brake compresses the forks. This causes a problem if you hit a bump whilst braking, because the forks have no squeezing left and you can end up over the bars. So, what you do just before you hit the bump is - you guessed it - give it 'andful. When you give it 'andful, you force all the weight to the back of the bike, and this uncompressed the forks - giving them plenty of scope for absorbing the bumps.

So as I approach the face of the bump, I realise that I am committed - there is no going back now. It's either going to go very very right, or its going to go very very wrong, and I'll find out which in less than two seconds from now. I hit the bump and fly into the air. I land right at the bottom of the next bump, and I give it another 'andful to make sure that the front suspension can do its work. Whee. And the same with the third one. I was well-chuffed.

Not only was I chuffed because it was such a cool thing, I was particularly chuffed that I hadn't panicked and grabbed the brakes. I had figured out the options, done some quick maths on the physics, and fate smiled on me.

I caught up with Martin, who asked what kept me. I grinned at him, told him that I had a few ups and downs.

James was starting to get really tired by now. Or perhaps he was just hungry - and that's why he jumped off his bike head first into a field full of barley. I stopped to help him dig himself and the bike out, and Madge fell over on her side stand. Fell over on the left side. I'll leave you to guess what snapped. I'll give you a clue - it wasn't the brake.

But, after two weeks of not being on the bike, I realised how much I missed it. Being somebody else for those few blissful hours, searching for grip, traction and balance. It does for my emotional state what the jet wash does for the mud at the end of the day's riding.

Today, Sunday, was clutch day. Today was the day when I decided that I was going to upgrade the clutch in Goldilocks. The Wee Yin helped - she undid all the bolts on the clutch cover for me, and declared that she can't make her mind up whether to like motorbikes or ballet. You know, "boy" things or "girl" things. Quite a dilemma.

Replacing the clutch with an EBC uprated clutch and springs was always going to be on the cards if I want this little bike to be able to do long races. These springs are so tough that if you put the Titanic on them, she'd bounce like Zebedee. I needed a claw hammer and a screwdriver to manouvre things to the point where I could reconnect the cable. Got everything back together, no bits left over, and did the whole lot with the engine in the frame.

In fact, as long as I had spare clutch plates, I could do the whole lot in less than half an hour using only the tools in my bum-bag. A year ago, I was traumatised at changing the oil and now I change clutches for fun. This is progress.

But, it's all about balance. The clutch was the weakest point on the bike. We always knew this, and it failed. It's been replaced with a clutch strong enough to shift an articulated lorry. A chain is only as strong as its weakest link. Replace the weak link, and what was previously the second-weakest link is now the weak point of the chain.

And it may well be the chain that is next. The stock chain on the PR3 is lightweight and it won't do any harm to uprate it with a heavy duty chain - especially when the engine gets more power.

But my new Husaberg-ass-whipping clutch is a good start.

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