Taking my dreaded Motorcycle Test – February 2008

I was sat waiting to get my test results, my personal belongings were in a locker, and there was an uncomfortable silence in the room with a cold, stoned faced woman who kept peering up from her bifocals from behind the desk in the corner.

This test result could change my life forever. The doubt and apprehension started to kick in as I looked around the room to see glum faces staring at their feet. Finally my name was called; I stood up and walked over to get my result from the po-faced teacher type woman who reminded me why I left school at 15.

She handed me a piece of paper with a slight grin which said ‘FAIL’ on it.

‘You gotta be joking’ I said, while nervously laughing and trying to smile as sweetly as possible. ‘NO’ was the reply; ‘You have failed; now please collect your belongings and leave the building’. I stood there for a second not knowing what to do with myself, then emptied my locker and walked out with my tail firmly wedged between my legs.

The nightmare had begun; I had just failed my bike theory test.

OK I asked for it, I walked in there all cocky having done no revision, ignored everyone who had warned me that the test was tricky and could catch you out. The last time I’d done a vehicle test was in 1992 where the hardest thing I had to do was read a registration plate from 20 paces and soon discovered things have moved on a bit since back then.

To make matters worse I had my CBT and bike test all booked very close and now I’d f**ked up the start I had to embarrassingly ring around everyone and tell them how much of a total cock I was and re-schedule the whole thing.

I studied like a swot 2nd time around, passed with full marks and got things back on track, only to find out my CBT test at Honda headquarters was to be taken by an ex-copper.

He stuck to the test sheet every step of the way, so we had to go through the whole procedure of where the throttle was and what levers did what. I had to ride around cones and show that I could change gear and to make matters worse I was sat on the very basic CG125 wearing a day-go yellow vest.

With a arm-wrenching 11 hp at my disposal I had all on reaching the speed limits never mind exceeding them and I just hoped all of this humiliation was going to be worth it as cars queued up behind as I brightly trickled down the road.

On the race-track you think about braking points, apexes, opening the throttle, tyres and suspension. Now I was thinking about giving way, life-saver checks and cars pulling out on me. I was clearly out of my comfort zone, it wasn’t pretty, I wasn’t stylish and I looked and felt like a complete beginner.

When my Dad took his test he was asked to ride around an estate as the examiner ran between the houses watching him go by and then would pop out between 2 parked cars. If you hit him you failed, stop and you passed. In the Isle of Man you had to ride up and down Bray Hill to get a pass, why can’t it be that easy now-a-days?

To take me through my direct-access was BSM senior instructor was Neil ‘U-lock’ Thomas who had a 92% pass rate, smokes rollies and used to perform wheelies on his GSXR-1000 outside college to impress the girls. That was until his best ever start to 2nd gear wheelie ended in disaster and a wrote-off Gixer when he left his U-lock in the front wheel and skidded down the road on his chin. He now gets his enjoyment from performing near stationary u-turns and telling off learner bikers on his one way intercom system.

For my final test I was riding a tricked up Honda Hornet from Fowlers of Bristol and now had the problem of staying inside the speed limits as my right wrist seemed to have a mind of its own and kept snapping the throttle back. With-in half a second of even thinking about it Neil would be on his intercom nagging in my ear, I half expect him to tell me to ‘stop showing off’ and ‘go tidy my room’.

My test examiner looked like Grandpa Simpson and drove behind me in a Volvo estate. I burbled utter nonsense to him when he asked the question, ‘What should I say to a pillion who has never been on the back of a bike before?, forgot to do a life-saver check with-in the first 10 seconds and then I went through a changing light 30 seconds up the road and got instantly separated from him.

He grumpily asked me to pull in and wait for him to catch up and I thought I’d blown it and spent the next 40 minutes riding around re-living the changing lights moment and making even more blunders.

I hated it, it aged me 20 years and on the way back to the test station I suddenly started praying to god for forgiveness, promising him that I would never forget mother’s day again and I’ll start helping old ladies across the road if he would only let me pass my bike test.

I nearly kissed Grandpa Simpson when he told me I’d passed and instead I man-hugged Neil and my new Polish friend Jalek who had been taking his test with me. Jalek got a ‘Pass with 2 minor faults’ to my ‘Pass with 5 minor faults’ but I didn’t care even though he’s only been riding a bike for 2 months and turned up with a immense hangover.

The BSM were awesome and I encourage anyone and everyone who is even considering it to get a bike license. More young bikers, more women bikers, more scooters and bikers in general please.

Well I did it, I’m officially now a real biker even though I’d been riding one since I was 3 ½ and I’ve now got a test certificate to prove it. Perfect now I can legally ride the Isle of Man and go and learn the TT course and instead of seeing Grannies as a possible 80 points, I’m now helping the old dears across the road.

Jamie