Back when I was a kid, me and my brothers would spend hours fighting over who could get the next turn on the Xbox.

My mother would go nuts, telling us to play nicely with each other. Take turns, or more likely, go outside. I guess that’s what they did when they were kids. The Xbox was new and they just didn’t get it.

We fought over many games. Action, driving, puzzle games. Anything we had, we argued over.

Being the youngest, I was never as good as them. They were always beating me, and I’m sure it made them feel good — that feeling of winning when we never got that feeling much as kids.I hated it.

I hated losing so much that I would get angry and really make a fuss.

Looking back, I see how stupid that was. I always got a go in the end. But at the time, I guess I didn’t feel like I would. There was too much arguing and eventually the Xbox would be taken away for good.

This happened a few times.

Until Christmas or a birthday, when, if we were lucky, both days’ presents would be combined. Then we were okay with that. We could deal with it for the escape we got.

I remember the racing games as I got older, and better.

Modifications on cars, trying to beat each other. I had a Citroën C4 — the underdog. My brother would always have the Nissan GTR.

To me, that was the easy choice.I wanted to win, but I wanted to work for it.

By then my eldest brother had kind of clocked out of the whole family thing. We had fallen out, and I was just glad to have more time on the Xbox.

And the track of choice on many occasions was the Nürburgring.

Its twists, turns, hills and history. It was always the one I remembered racing my brother around. He would beat me often, but sometimes I would get the edge.

The years have passed and the family has grown apart.

I moved away, same as my eldest brother. J, my middle brother with the GTR, has a kid now.

And the memories of fighting over video games have sunk into the past.

Until I cycled up that hill.

I’d just left the small town of Adenau after having one of the best currywurst and caramel sundaes, and after a real battering of single tracks, hills and just fucking awful riding.

I came up that hill not knowing what I was going to stumble upon.

Not knowing the memories were about to flood back in.

I looked up to see a tunnel and some crash barriers running over the top. Chain-link fencing stretched high above me when, out of nowhere, an engine roared past.

Screeching tyres.

Burning rubber.

Shit.

That’s a race track.

I knew I was going to find it, but I didn’t think it would be for a few days yet.

But there it was.

The Nürburgring.

The Nürburgring Nordschleife — one of the most dangerous and famous race tracks in the world, nicknamed the “Green Hell” by Jackie Stewart.

Nearly 21 kilometres of track. Hundreds of corners, twists, hills and blind crests.

And now I was standing beneath one of them.

I was about to walk along a piece of my childhood.

I had to get a video.

I sent it to J.

“Guess where I am. Guess what this is.”

Hours passed.

I stood there like a grinning child, watching cars fly past, with the thought of having to cycle another 40km to my campsite slipping deeper and deeper into the fuck it folder in my mind.

I sent my brother a few more videos.

Finally, a reply.“I thought a race track. I didn’t think the Nürburgring.”

“That’s so cool,” he said.

Yeah. It was really fucking cool.

I thought back to all those times racing my brother around it on the Xbox. I recognised corners from a game I hadn’t played in years.

But as I got closer to the start, I got tired.

The miles I had cycled had left me exhausted, and by the end of the day I just wanted to stop moving.

But I knew I couldn’t.

I just wanted to sit and watch the cars.

But it’s boring when you’re on your own.

I just wanted to play Xbox with my brothers.

I wished it had hit me for longer.

I wished I could have felt that enjoyment the whole time I was there. But I still had another 15km of uphill before I could stop for the day.

And when I finally did, I just wanted to go back and watch.

But I wished I wasn’t on my own.

Maybe that’s what made it hit differently.

It wasn’t really the Nürburgring I wanted.

It was them.

My brothers.

Those stupid arguments over whose turn it was.

The Citroën C4 against the GTR.

Three kids who thought the biggest problem in the world was who got the next go on the Xbox.

I guess that is the funny thing about traveling.

You cycle hunderds of miles trying to experience something new, only to find old memories waiting for you.

So maybe, in the future, now that door has been opened, we can go and experience it together.

And for one day, we can act like we’re all kids again.

We can get behind the wheel.

Race each other around the Green Hell.

And escape for another day.