Somewhere on the Belgian motorway I was warned I'd never be the same. Sat in the passenger seat of a friend's Eunos Roadster en route to petrolhead Mecca the Nürburgring last Friday I knew I was in for a good weekend, but I wasn't prepared for the full extent of the damage.
"Ringworm", as I'm told the regulars call it, is a bad thing to catch. An obsession with visiting the world-famous toll road is a guaranteed way to end up at the bottom of your overdraft. But I'm hooked, and though I've only been back a couple of days I'm already racking my brain trying to work out how to return as soon as possible.
While it may sound like a copout going all that way as a passenger, it's a very cost-effective way to experience the track. I managed almost 20 laps, either with friends or complete strangers, and finally fulfilled my boyhood ambition to have a ride in a BMW E30 M3. If you've got a helmet and the confidence to ask, adrenaline-filled laps in a selection of fairly serious machinery are yours for the taking. Trust me, it's well worth it.
Then there's the surrounding area, beautiful, impeccably looked after and, best of all, completely car obsessed. If you're a petrolhead there's nowhere quite like it. Visit any restaurant locally and you'll find yourself surrounded by like-minded individuals, all keen to talk cars over a weissbier and a steak.
But there is a massive problem with the Nürburgring, and it's not the track's lethal reputation.
After all this, you have to go home.
Yeah, that's me, I couldn't resist...