I DON’T ride motorbikes, and if you ever meet me there’s a very simple way to tell…

…if you look really closely, you’ll notice that I still have all my arms and legs attached and I am not eating my lunch through a straw.

But if you assume I dislike bikes, you would be mistaken. I respect the engineering marvel that they are, fawn over their heat-coloured exhausts and dizzying power-to-weight ratios, and the opportunity to wear head-to-toe leather without being reborn as a cow is genuinely appealing.

But every time I consider putting something in the garage that has more power than my first car but with only half the wheels, the idea is immediately dismissed by one of my greatest character traits – cowardice.

In every one of those incidents, I am certain that had I been on something with fewer than four wheels, the only place I would have got a byline published is in the obituaries segment of the Taunton Times. For me, it’s four wheels or walking.

But where to exercise passion on four wheels without risking everything? The Black Spur used to be a hoot but its surrounding woodland is now overrun with men dressed in ghillie suits raising cash for the annual police gala, and the Great Alpine Road’s twisty lanes are probably still smoking from editor Inwood’s two-day extravaganza in an HSV GTSR W1, so let’s hit the road less travelled.

There’s a stretch of road I had heard spoken of with an almost mythical reverence that links the tiny country town of Mitta Mitta in Victoria’s north east to Omeo directly south. For a crow, the journey is 70km, but if you’re bound to bitumen, the section of Omeo Highway is closer to 110km and there’s barely a straight in sight.

Like an ironic preview to what would hopefully be an energetic and inspiring drive, the three-hour cruise out of Melbourne toward Albury via Beechworth is cripplingly dull. Yes, the scenery is pretty and the weather crisp, but the Audi’s massive 20-inch wheels communicated the Hume Highway’s coarse-chipped surface through to the cabin with the efficiency of a stylus on vinyl.

The ride is also firm. Not firm like a VE Commodore on cut springs, but the RS won’t ever let you forget its sporting intent. A featureless road did allow time to get to know the TT RS cabin though, and to appreciate the quality finish and acres of glossy carbonfibre trim.

The TT’s unmistakable exterior styling has resulted in an unusual driver layout with a distant windscreen and a steering wheel that needs extending all the way out for a taller pilot, but on the outside those aesthetics have just the right effect, drawing lots of admiring glances.

The tiny outposts of Tallandoon and Eskdale preceded my arrival at the town of Mitta Mitta, but not before a small detour to a symbolic start point of the purist’s driving roads and the Dartmouth Dam. From here the immense rock wall towers over the stunning Mitta Valley and my digs for the night.

A final landmark before swinging into Mitta and the quiet unsealed local airstrip prompted a moment of quiet nostalgia for this author, who learned to drive on an abandoned airfield in an Audi quattro. Resisting the temptation to swing open the unchained gates and take the TT for a V-max blast just for old time’s sake was hard, but racing an unexpected Cessna on final approach would have looked bad in retrospect.

Onward then.

Stay a little later and Heather will wait until you have nearly finished your last pint before telling you she used to be the navigator in an outback off-road racing series. Perhaps she will finish the story next time…

A little dusty the next morning, I stock up on some essentials at the Mitta Store including one of the best brekkie rolls this side of the snow line and bump into local Rob.

Owner of an Audi A4 S Line (he likes the interior and says it’s “better than a BMW”), the retired national parks manager was drawn to the Daytona Grey TT RS that was an obvious stranger in these parts.

Then it’s time to lash the saddle bags, select the Dynamic drive mode and hit the only road south out of town for the 100km plus adventure to Omeo. Except, it isn’t, because just 30km later, the forecast range in the trip computer has plummeted from a predicted 180km and a half tank to 100km and at this rate I’ll be on the side of the road in near freezing temperatures, faced with a very long walk.

Until now, the TT had been consuming about 8.1 litres per 100km compared with the official 8.4L number, but that efficiency had just fallen off a cliff and was now closer to 14L/100km.

The Audi may have the grunt, grip and go to tear up this kind of remote road, but it is hobbled by its pitiful 55-litre tank.

Until now, the roads haven’t encouraged the exploration of the RS’s performance credentials, but as the way ahead turns increasingly winding, steep and remote, the hottest TT feels as if it could be emerging onto its home turf.

The sun has broken through the early fog and the road is largely dry, but the occasional tree-covered section –often on blind corners – is still perilously damp and it becomes clear why this road is popular with two-wheeled machines most of the year but deserted by them today.

For bikes and some high-powered rear-drivers, the sudden patches of lichen and moisture-covered asphalt could end your day – and possibly driving career – early, but Audi’s quattro system cut its sprockets on surfaces like this and lends a level of traction, the limits of which require a considerable degree of fortitude to find, even on the seemingly numberless hairpins of the Omeo Highway.

Challenging roads nestled in beautiful scenery aren’t uncommon in the high country, but the Omeo Highway has few rivals for the sheer relentlessness of its corners.

It’s only the Audi’s efficiency at maintaining momentum that negates the need for a rest and therein lies the appeal of the TT RS. For blasting through serpentine asphalt, it’s devastatingly effective, the quattro driveline allowing you to jump on the power early as the 2.5-litre five cylinder fires the car to the next braking point like an anti-tank shell.

Still, I wonder how far behind the RS one of its four-pot siblings would be. So why would you not save a sizeable slab of cash and opt for an entry-level TT or the very rapid Audi TTS?

That cacophony puts a spark in the blood of any car lover and the next kilometres seem to flash by with increasing urgency. Turn, point, bury the throttle, punish the brakes, turn again, repeat. The Audi feasts on roads like this with an almost psychopathic efficiency.

Roadholding and grip, while abundant aren’t matched by equally commendable feel. The steering is heavier and chatty with the drive mode set to Dynamic but the RS is almost too clinical in its demolition of distance and a little more tyre-talk would be welcome. The engine encourages the throttle to be stabbed at every opportunity, with a wonderful turbo hiss and guttural wide-open warbling coupled with an addictive unapologetically turbocharged surge from just 2000rpm.

As the white lines turn to yellow and the navigation indicates an altitude of more than 1300 metres, the RS continues to blast through anything I can throw at it with faultless obedience. Yes, a Porsche Cayman would likely return a more rewarding rear-drive experience but the TT’s packaging, turbo punch, pretty design and surprisingly practical load spaces, deliver an almost unrivalled proposition.

It’s as I ponder this that the corners start to unwind into flowing byways and Omeo’s lights signal an end to the unbelievable road I’ve left in the Audi’s wake. There are few cars in the RS’s price bracket that can cover this manic stretch with the same unruffled speed and composure.

I love the five-cylinder anthem that’s still ringing in my ears and this car’s astonishing point-to-point pace.

More importantly, had I tried to do the same on just two wheels, I am confident the only way I could tell you about it is not in these pages, but in a seance.

The TT RS makes discretion feel a lot like valour. And you know what? I’m good with that.

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