One’s forties bring with them many things. Grouchiness. Pessimism. Increased back issues.
There are, however, other benefits, such as a more laissez-faire attitude to treats and/or frivolities. Toys, if you will. For me, one of those toys that I have always wanted to involve myself in was motorcycles. I have a wide range of interests, automotive being peak among them, but the list is long, and the glaring hole was that of the two-wheeled variety.
In my youth, the issue was very much one of responsibility. My first instinct would be to see how quick something was, and I would have ridden with the fearless abandon that would have seen me riding – and perhaps breathing – for the shortest of periods. I have also always had a penchant for MotoGP, the premier class of motorcycle racing; Formula 1 on two wheels. A love of Valentino Rossi also meant that my context for motorcycling was leg-out air braking and drifting out of corners.
Whenever presented, mainly with sports, that I have no experience in, the mantra, ‘do it like they do on TV’, has always served me well. With my experience of seeing people on bikes, Isle of Man TT included, that advice would have yielded the shortest two-wheel career ever lived. So, at 42, newly responsible, and with access to a variety of much safer ways in which to access speed, I made the decision to learn to ride a motorcycle.
There are many routes to licence in the UK. Compulsory Basic Training (or CBT) represents the lowest level. That goes all the way through to direct access courses that enable the rider to finish with a full UK category A licence, meaning unfettered access to the bike market upon completion and passing of the two associated tests.
Looking around for a provider can be somewhat of a minefield. Various providers, various centres, various setups, various instructors. Genuinely, it is a minefield. There is a training centre close to where I live and I routinely saw bikers in their car park being harangued by a man on a big bike while performing laps on underpowered and rather beaten-looking steeds. That wasn’t quite the reassurance I needed. Through conversation with people in the know and riding friends, I was directed towards BMW Motorrad UK, who through a dedicated group of training centres, provide a Rookie-to-Rider training, aimed at people exactly like me. I don’t mean dashing, charismatic, brown. I mean people of a certain age and disposition, perhaps. The course is available in a couple of different iterations, but I booked in for the full fat, unadulterated seven-day intensive course that would take me through, fingers crossed, to a full UK category A licence.
My editor asked what I would be able to ride afterwards, I asked if he had seen the guy who has an eight-litre V10 Dodge Viper engined bike….
Theory came and went. ‘Twas but a trifle. It actually wasn’t, as with most things when tested in a formal environment, there was the usual trepidation, break in confidence, tears. Well, no tears. However, after some strategic studying, I hotfooted to Morden in South London, up the second floor of Athena House, and in mere minutes, left triumphant and smug. Stage one complete. I then had the arduous few weeks’ wait until my scheduled slot to start my seven day intensive. Over that period, my body, my mind, Christ, even my sanity was tested as I rode the upward and downward swell of excitement and outright fear. Yes, I know what a motorcycle is. Yes, I understand that it’s just you, a puny human, atop an engine and bare to the dangers that asphalt and fast-moving automobiles present. Long story short, I knew what it was I was embarking upon, but the reality, I felt, would actually be somewhat different.
The day was nigh.
The training centre that I would be attending is located in Royston, Hertfordshire. A stone’s throw from Cambridge, the centre is nestled amongst fields in a somewhat non-descript countryside industrial complex, the like of which are present, nestled in fields, the country over. The set-up here immediately dispelled any fears I may have had of the facilities and level of equipment and tutelage. In a double barn-esque set-up, the centre houses a welcome area adorned with some classic and some newer models of the BMW lineup. There are two classrooms where attendees discuss safety, maintenance and technique when not out on the bikes.
Ahhhhh, the bikes. The centre houses a huge fleet of bikes that can cater for all of the courses and needs. The basic starter bike for my course was the G310R. A bike that, for all intents and purposes, looks like a serious bit of kit, to the uninitiated at least. Deeper into the garage there are examples from the GS, R and F sport ranges. The F750GS is the larger bike that I would progress to for the latter portion of the training. All bikes bore number plates including ‘23’ so there were no worries of sub-par archaic machinery. I met Ian Biederman, Head Instructor and owner of the company that provides direct BMW training. We discussed many things from trepidation, techniques and what to expect for the week ahead. Training is at a maximum of two students per trainer so the dedication and attention is second to none.
I met Darren who would provide my first day of training, and I was then brought to the equipment that clearly showcases the importance of best practice held by the centre. Helmet, boots, gloves, protective jacket and protective over-trousers are all provided. I should also add that the course includes the bike hire, fuel, equipment, insurance, and the booking and cost of the associated tests for the final two days. It is literally a case of turn up, learn, buy yourself some lunch and that’s all one needs. Given how intense this intensive course is, trust me when I say that one needs no other distractions; it is a tiring few days of concentration and physical effort.
The course, as I have said, is aimed at those who haven’t ridden a geared motorcycle previously and are looking to get the most out of the training. The training adopts an intensive layered approach, immersing the student in the totality of what riding represents. There is a big push towards the idea that one is learning to ride a motorcycle, not to pass a test. If one can ride, one can pass, and it’s more important to teach students the wider aspects of being on a bike than simply the manoeuvres and rules needed for licensing. For such a novice, the light entrance into training consisted of a lot more contextualisation of the issues, dangers and techniques discussed within the theory test. The greater understanding of what a bike is came first and foremost. How this all comes together on a bike, whilst being interspersed with the safety element of riding, meant that when I did approach the bike for the first time much of the initial worry had dissipated.
One’s initial few hours are spent on the aforementioned G310R, a compact bike that introduces the feel of a bigger bike and is best suited to gently ease oneself onto the concept of geared riding. The centre has a tarmac pad setup, akin to the test centre pad where practice and practice and yet more practice is undertaken. I was eased into the slalom, the figure of eight and the U-turn on this contained tarmac, and as day two started, I found myself out on the large entrance driveway gaining experience in the gearing, the concepts of contra steer, and also the specific necessities of the Module 1 test such as avoidance and the emergency stop. Having never ridden before. Did I mention that?
The first time I hit 18 mph on the bike, I was incredulous as to how they thought I could hit 30. It then dawned on me that the training centre exited onto a 50mph road and at that point, I genuinely thought this entire exercise utterly unobtainable. But it works. It turns out, it’s not voodoo or some miraculous blend of hypnosis and subterfuge. The layering aspect of the training, coupled with some classroom work to solidify reasoning and context means that not only does everything make sense, but the idea of trust between oneself and the trainer grows exponentially. Soon I was sweeping through the timing gate at 30mph with slightly butterflied abandon.
By the time that I moved onto the larger F750GS, I felt confident in the riding aspects of the course. What do I mean by that? Well, I guess, like many other things in life, one may be proficient but not perfect. One may have skills, but also quirks. For me, I kept trying to replicate every Uber Eats rider I saw and was attempting stops with my feet dragging to the side. Not to mention that standard when learning, the grip of the front brake in panic eliciting a couple of unsure moments at junctions.
Denis, the trainer for the bulk of my seven days, is not only very aware of your skills and limitations having been with you through the process, but across stops and lunch breaks provides time to answer questions and allay any fears. It is incredible the pace at which confidence comes and with the location as it is, there is more than a sufficient variety of roads to not only provide experience as to the various scenarios one will encounter, but also allow for the day to feel less monotonous. Yes, the area is located close to the testing centre. However, as mentioned: this is about learning to ride, not memorising test routes.
Each course is bespoke to the attendee and their progress, so it isn’t as simple as laying out a schedule for the week that will serve in facsimile for each following attendee. The trainer makes decisions as to progress, and, unbeknownst to me, had been assessing me for the CBT aspect over the first few days of my training. I only realised this when presented with the first of my certificates on offer for the week. Rather than making a decision based on two hours on the road after a car park session, Denis was teaching me to ride a bike ‘covertly’; he had a better idea of my skills, and I was allowed to learn and progress without the burden of the additional stress of being under scrutiny.
Another sensible technique that the centre offers is that on one day of the course, they have access to the DVSA test centre where one undertakes the Module 1 part of the test.
Frequenting the test pad prior to turning up at examination time makes a huge amount of difference to the emotional aspect of the test. In reality, it’s the easier aspect of the test. As Denis put it, ‘If at school, you were told you had a test in five days, and all the questions and answered were provided and you could practice exactly those questions, safe in the knowledge that they are the only things to be tested, would you find it hard?’.
While yes, admittedly, that’s all very well and good in plain logical speak, but the reality is different. For example, I massively got the yips on slow manoeuvres; the figure of eight was causing me huge issues as I sputtered around trying to maintain balance and or momentum. Likewise, the U-turn had me nervous, as space is a premium and a foot down means an instant failure. Whilst it is not rocket science, there are elements that need to be faultless and therein lies the fear. So, having access to the exact area where I would do battle went a huge distance to quelling some of my fears and reined in at least a portion of those yips.
The test was set for Wednesday, the day before my final test. Stakes were obviously high, but I sashayed my way through questions, manual handling, the slalom, a figure of eight, a U-turn, an emergency stop, avoidance at 30mph, and, most importantly when still high from the intoxication of the test, the safe return to the car park. With three mere minors (more borne out of a strange obsession of not checking blind spots), I had passed Module 1 and was therefore eligible to move onto the full test the next day.
The main test encompasses a 45-minute ride with an independent test appraiser. Like the system employed by the training centre, one is supplied with an intercom to listen to directed riding for the first 30-ish minutes of the test, and then a 15-minute portion of what is referred to as free-riding (but in essence is just less direction from said instructor). Rather than specific instructions, one is directed to follow the route for Cambridge, for example, and one rides until directed away from the route.
To lead up to this, road riding is the major portion of the training. Once the driveway had been conquered and we moved onto the road, the training then took on much deeper meaning and one could see, feel and hear the advice given by the instructors play out in real-time. For the first ride of the day, a route is generally discussed where any oddities of the road set-up are explained, and the aim of the day is clearly outlined. Denis kept me abreast of deficiencies and provided advice consistently. The advice also comes with praise when deserved, so one feels like there is progress rather than being beaten into toeing the line. Everyone is an adult and everyone is treated as such. When I opted to make the most ill-judged move into the second lane of a dual carriageway at a pace more appropriate to a multistorey car park, I wasn’t admonished like a child, but we discussed the error, discussed best practice and moved on.
Use of gears, visibility, dealing with other road users; the sheer amount of time spent in the seat means that before the day seven test even looms on the horizon, one has encountered many of the road types, users and hazards that not only will be present on the test, but will also punctuate ones riding career far into the distance.
Day seven arrived. Nowhere to hide.
The morning was spent on a long ride before my lunchtime-ish date with destiny. The roads around the locale, now familiar, were traversed with a constant in-helmet commentary from myself. Trying to vocalise the mental advice I was giving myself, and also to keep myself directed towards the hazards, and also the features of my riding, that needed extra attention and care. After all, being able to ride is one thing, being able to ride safely, sensibly, and well, is another thing entirely. The advice of Denis is also ever-present in my ear and there is perhaps 10% increased softness in his voice that day, as if knowing that the nerves are at play and calm will need to reign supreme.
We returned to the DVSA test centre, the site of my previous day’s success. 13.30 rolled around and now was the time of reckoning. Long story short, I passed.
Part of me wants to luxuriate in my own undoubted skill, but in fairness, I genuinely think it was down to the level of tuition received. I can’t claim that success would have come so simply through an alternative provider, and what I was left with was a feeling of being able to ride a bike, not just for a test, or in terms of basic movements, but in the sense of awareness, safety, consideration, care – all the nuanced aspects that make someone a safe, secure and confident rider.
On my post-successful test ride to the training centre, we discussed advanced techniques as Denis led and I followed, eager to learn more and get more miles under my belt. One major benefit of the centre and that garage is that upon our return, I changed bikes and now sat astride an R1250R, a naked roadster variant, a sizeable bike at 1250cc that would give me the opportunity to sample a larger bike in a slightly more unshackled environment. The aim was also to implement some of the more advanced techniques that we had discussed.
Now, we are not talking about knees down and dark lines out of corners, but we are talking about consistent progress, giving oneself more visibility with which one can then gauge braking and judge hazards from more appropriate vantage points. As Denis put it, it is about maintaining progress, not speeding. What transpired was maybe the most enjoyable 45 minutes spent under power. Land, sea, air. Two wheels, or… dare I say it? Dare I? Four wheels. It was that intoxicating.
For those looking to learn, I cannot recommend it enough. From equipment, bikes, set up, location and tuition, everything was the best possible and there is an associated care from the staff that adds another level of service. There is a camaraderie in bikers, we know that, but I was warmed to feel immediately welcomed into that fold. The centre also offers advanced courses, refresher courses and some guided tour rides as well. Should biking be a passion you wish to learn, improve or exploit, I can recommend no better tuition to get yourself there.
Where next for Aaron the Biker? Well, the possibilities are almost endless. I think I need some time to sample the full array of the bike market before settling on my vibe. Right now, I find myself feeling like a nice powerful naked roadster is most attractive, but then I see a bobber or something in the cafe racer style, and my thought process is upended once again.
What of brands such as Harley and Indian? I’ve always noted somewhat redneck tendencies. When resident in Vegas, I often opted to take my friend’s Escalade pickup over the also resident Brabus CLS. Where will I ride? Where will two wheels take me? All I know is that I am in it for the long run.
I have glanced out of the window each morning since attaining my licence and at every dry weather glimpse, I have a pang of disappointment that there isn’t something with two wheels parked outside. That, however, will undoubtedly soon change.