My first experience on two wheels was a teenager and it was hardly a success, writes motoring editor Peter Caroll.
It was the late 1970s and ping pong sessions at the local youth club were starting to drag. So when my mate Phil offered me a ride on his then state-of the-art Yamaha FS1-E I didn’t hang back.
In those days a derestricted ‘Fizzy’ was the only bike worth having for teenage speed freaks who were still to pass their full test.
Although it was only a moped, the sporty Yamaha looked the part and, with a little tinkering, could hit the giddy heights of 60mph on the road - according to Phil at least.
There was only one way to put this claim to the test, so I grabbed a helmet and straddled the back of the bike.
My pal was so eager to show off his machine that he immediately screamed away - leaving me standing there, legs akimbo, still fastening my helmet and looking like a right prawn.
The experience proved something of a metaphor for my relationship with bikes. Many of my friends soon passed their tests and acquired proper grown-up machines. I, however, went on to become quite proficient at table tennis.
But I always harboured the desire to return to two wheels and when the chance came to kickstart my biking career, as it were, I seized it.
These days you have to pass a Compulsory Basic Training course before you are allowed on the road legally on a bike.
So when it was suggested that I take my CBT, I signed up with BSM in Birmingham and duly turned up at its offices in Saltley on a freezing morning.
It was so cold, in fact, that it was touch and go as to whether the instruction day would proceed.
Luckily, the sun was out and the ice began to melt. (I noted, however, that it was never anything other than perishing in the saddle.)
Taking a CBT course requires a full day and I was surprised at how gruelling it was: a straight nine-hour stint with barely a break for lunch.
Things began gently enough with a chat with the instructors about biking gear. This may sound dull, when all you want to do is get out on the road, but you do pick up useful tips on what to wear, how much to pay for it and where to get it.
Then at last me and the other trainees were allowed to ride bikes - but only on the car park in front of the driving school offices.
We spent the rest of the morning performing a range of manouevres on Honda 125s under the watchful eyes of two instructors. We practised pulling away, riding slowly, turning, signalling and stopping.
This last manouevre proved surprisingly troublesome. It took me a while to realise that the instructors were not looking for a flash, motocross-style skid. They simply wanted me to stop the bike quickly and safely - preferably without stalling.
Eventually I managed to persuade them that I could stop the bike competently and then it was back to the classroom for further instruction on how to deal with real life traffic situations.
We learned road awareness, lane positioning, and how to ride defensively. In particular, we learned to watch for inattentive car drivers, who remain arguably the biggest threat to those on two wheels.
Regular checking of the mirror is essential on a bike and not for nothing is the glance over your shoulder prior to exiting a roundabout known as ‘the life-saver’.
Before you complete your CBT you have to undertake a two-hour road session with an instructor following.
This would have been fine in the middle of the day - but by the time my turn came it was dark, cold, and the roads of Birmingham were getting busy.
For some reason, I’d been expecting a gentle cruise round some quiet back streets in Brum.
Not a bit of it. It was straight over a crossroads, through some lights and onto a main dual carriageway.
Trainees wear earpieces in their helmets enable instructors to communicate with them - and it was a great help to be on the road with an experienced rider like Mark Wiseman.
It wasn’t long before I began to feel a real sense of exhilaration as I fired up the throttle.
Though we were not travelling especially quickly, you definitely get more of a sense of speed on a bike - because you are exposed to the elements and closer to the ground.
What I hadn’t banked on, however, was how exposed I would feel at junctions.
I’d pull up to a roundabout and think car drivers were going to nudge past me, as if I were on a pushbike. Mark instructed me to adopt a more central position instead and ‘command’ the road.
I started to feel more confident - only for a black Mercedes-Benz to screech to a halt halfway across a roundabout as I was about to turn off it.
The driver had presumably seen me only at the last minute, despite my high visibility bib - and the presence of an instructor behind me.
I was left all too aware that a minor shunt in a car is one thing. On a bike it can spell a lengthy stint in hospital - or worse.
At the end of the session Mark pulled over and told me that I had passed. I now have two years to get my full licence or repeat the whole CBT exercise.
I’d been impressed with the tuition - particularly the constant emphasis on safety. For no matter how naturally talented you are on two wheels, biking remains a dangerous activity and you never know what’s coming round the corner - or what side of the road it will be on.
But then a keen sense of your own vulnerability is no bad thing when it comes to biking.
And then it dawned on me. If every motorist had to take their test on a bike BEFORE they were allowed in a car the roads would surely become much safer for everyone.
Because once car drivers realised how exposed they are on two wheels, they might just start to treat other road users with a good deal more respect.
It was only after we’d completed the course that Mark revealed that police use the area for training their own riders.
“Basically, if you can cope with Birmingham, in the rush hour, in the dark, in the winter, you can cope with anything.”
We will see….
By Peter Carroll
* You can contact BSM on (0121) 328 1675 *
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