I have a pretty serious problem with Facebook Marketplace. I scroll through it and buy just the most random shit on there. A quick look at my suggestions today shows guitars, trucks, camera equipment, early 1900s tools, a 1950 bolex projector, a onewheel electric skateboard, firewood, and a fridge. As it stands, I want to buy all of these things. Perhaps for my own good, I have neither the financial resources nor the space to do so. The place is at treasure trove, and as I was writing ✓ Project Bucket List, I fell for it’s deathly virtual tentacles once again.
I have never been into motorcycles, not really. I didn’t grow up with any bikers in the family, and I found the boy racers who speed around revving their loud engines a little intimidating, but I stopped immediately in my tracks when I saw a 1981 Honda CB750K for sale for just £1000. This motorcycle was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen. I always love the look of classic cars, but never thought I’d actually own one, so this gorgeous piece of metal looked like it would accomplish that dream. At the time, work was going really well, and I had money to spare, so I decided to treat myself.
I contacted the guy selling it, a loud man who sounded like Paul O’Grady and who had a warehouse full of WWII classic bikes that he dealt to collectors. He kept exclaiming that “if nobody buys this Japanese piece of shit by tomorrow, I’m going to throw it in the river Trent“. (When I say he sounded like Paul O’Grady, I just mean he was Scouse.)
One bank transfer later and a visit from a man with a van who happily told me he’d been riding for 50 years and had only fell off 9 times, and I was the proud owner of this beautiful red motorcycle. The great news is that, because it’s a classic vehicle, it’s tax and MOT exempt. Which is weird to me, surely a vehicle that’s 45 years old should have twice the number of MOTs to keep it safe? That being said, I shan’t bite the hand that feeds.
The next problem was getting a licence. I had this romanticised view of getting a load of classic gear and riding up into the Peak District. I could even imagine the drone shot in my head.
I got some gear, and happily took a load of advice from the gents in the shop on what to buy. There’s an interesting thing that happens once you get into biking, which is that suddenly you’re in this brotherhood of bikers. There’s this underlying sense of protection and comradery you get from other bikers that I’ve not experienced in any other hobby.
Everybody knows the dangers of riding, everybody knows how their bikes work and how much care has gone into them, and everybody knows to welcome newcomers with open arms – something I cannot say is the same in any other hobbies. Here’s looking at you, photographers.
So, I booked lessons with Nottingham Motorcycle Training. I found it pretty unclear in the UK on what licence I actually needed to ride. The way it works depends on your age, and the size of the engine in the motorcycle you want to ride. If you want to ride a little moped around, you’ll just have to complete a CBT (Compulsory Basic Training, not Cognitive Behavioural Therapy, and not Cock and Ball Torture), which is a day’s class that you must renew every 2 years.
You get a little certificate you carry around that’ll say that you can safely ride a small moped or bike. You go out on the road with the instructor, and they make sure you know how to safely turn and manage the bike. Then, once you’re done, you’re free to go! Your bike has to have an L plate on forever though, and it can’t have more than a 125CC engine.
Then, if you decide you want a bigger bike, or you want to go without the L plate, you need to pass your full motorcycle test, or your “A licence”. This is split into 2 parts, each with an exam. The first part, named mod 1, is all about handling the bike. You’ll do figure of 8s, turns, stops and starts, and emergency stops. The idea is that you get used to handling the bike first. Once you finish that, you move onto module 2. Mod 2 is out on the road, you ride with your instructor around and get comfortable on two wheels, then do a 40 minute test with an examiner.
There’s a real big focus when you learn to ride a motorcycle about keeping safe. If you have a good instructor like I did (cheers Michelle!), you’ll find that they constantly remind you how close you are to death, and how many idiots are on the road. You become extremely aware of how aggressive drivers are nowadays, and how much of a rush everybody seems to be in, how selfish they are, and how invisible you are. Even driving a car, I have become so much of a safer and more aware driver, based entirely on how much my motorcycle instructor reminded me that everybody else on the road can kill you.
Another fun thing, motorcyclists often filter through traffic. This eases traffic for everybody, and you stand to lose nothing by letting them through, so I’ve started moving my car slightly out of the way when one comes up behind me. It never ceases to make me feel good about myself to get that little thumbs up as the biker passes me. It’s like YES LOOK I’M ONE OF THE GOOD ONES!
Once you pass your mod 2 test, you’re free to go out on the road and you get a new licence with a shiny little motorcycle symbol on the back. Even when you do the test, the examiner will speak about danger. There’s an underlying idea in the motorcycle community that we all do what we can to keep safe, but that accidents happen. You can be the best rider in the world, and some inattentive ass of a driver can ruin your life, or worse, in a fraction of a second.
On the flip, when I passed my car licence, it all felt very routine. I got told that I had a minor, and then I carried on with my life. On the motorcycle exam, I sat with the examiner afterwards, a biker himself, and he welcomed me to life on two wheels, and made sure I understood the minor mistakes I made on the exam so I wouldn’t make them out on the road. That sense of comradery came back.
I’ve now passed my motorcycle exam, and I’m in the process of fixing up my bike ready to ride out to the peak district this spring. When I started this journey, I expected to learn how to ride a new vehicle and be done, but I feel like I’ve entered a special club. It reminds me of the stories you hear about pilots gaining their wings, and how it’s quite an emotional moment to be invited into a set of people who will all look out for you, and care for you.
I’ll update this blog with pictures once I’m up at the Peaks. And remember to have a drink of water, you need to care for yourself!