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The first present I got on my birthday was a 7am call. I hadn’t seen this side of noon since leaving school – needless to say this was not my best present.
I then rushed to open my presents and cards so my dad could drop me off to do my CBT on his way to work. On the way I was thinking this would be the last time I needed a lift. "Only if you pass", I kept being reminded by my mother, who appeared to have no faith in me whatsoever.
I kept reminding her, "It’s not a test, it’s training, you can’t fail, you get on a bike, ride around a bit, get overtaken by a few cars and you have passed’, but the truth was very different.
When I arrived at the instructor’s house he spoke with my dad for a few minutes, because they are friends, and told him how he hates doing CBT’s especially with 16 year old lads that have ridden before, because "they are the ones that always have crashes", which filled me with confidence.
He got the bike out to show me what was what and explained that the layout is about the same on every bike; he walked me out to the front of the house and had me read a number plate a short distance away to check my eyesight was good. We then went inside, where he showed me diagrams of signs and roundabouts, and tested my knowledge of road laws.
With all this covered, it was time to jump on the bike and head around the block a few times until he decided I was ready to tackle the mean streets of town, with his advice still ringing in my ears, "You are the bottom of the food chain out there, so look out.”
At first I was so nervous but after a while you get used to riding and become more confident, in fact so confident that when you come to a main roundabout you forget what you were told, approach in the outside lane, think you need to be in the inside lane, don’t bother looking and cut straight in front of a car that has to brake to avoid you; then you get a verbal ear bashing from your instructor for nearly being killed, but that’s how you learn.
This shatters all my confidence and I’m dreading the next roundabout but there’s no avoiding them and it came all too soon. Thankfully I only want to turn left. I’m sat eagerly awaiting a space, when a car indicates to say he is turning down the road I’m in. I decide I can get out before the car behind him gets to me, I mirror check, shoulder check, pull out and, "What the f**k are you doing?" shouts my instructor as the car nearly runs into me, "Are you f**king blind?" Turns out indicators don’t mean anything, the guy wasn’t going that way. He wanted the same road I did and he nearly took me with him.
In the end I managed to put these mishaps behind me and finished without any further incidents. He told me that I did OK and filled out the precious piece of paper that is my passport to ride. At the shop where my dad works, he said his goodbyes and echoed his earlier advice, "On a bike you are the bottom of the food chain." I was taken into the workshop and shown my new method of transport, a TS50X, which is nearly as old as me, and the slowest bike I have ridden since I was 5 – but it’s still wonderful. I was given some more advice by my dad, "Keep it clean and well lubricated."
I think he was talking about the bike!
two wheel passion
www.theridersdigest.co.uk
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