I’m stuck in a puddle and I can’t get out. Every attempt to move forward only serves to send me deeper into the hole I’ve made for myself, and every attempt to reverse causes my vehicle to scream, splutter and stall. It all ends in tears and treadmarks, tires bald and fuel gauge needling toward oblivion. The track has become a battlefield and I’m desperately in need of assistance. Time to call in the big guns and tow my brokedown truck back to base. I’m battered, bruised and covered in filth. In Spintires, my earnest efforts cause me to dig my own grave, down in the dirt and the filth. Here’s wot I think.