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Biking :
Miscellaneous
Wyrd Motorcycling Part 3 - January to June 1996
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The C.B.T.
Karola was unable to do the course, having had an agonizing Christmas of back troubles, so Chris
(my ex husband) decided to join me at the CBT. We had a fun time, and passed; the next few days
I ached as only a new biker can, having used muscles I never knew existed. Tom encouraged
me through email from Australia; the first lesson he taught me was that biking should never
be taken lightly, and consisted of much more than just sitting and steering. He also taught
me that I could be proud of myself. The tutors at the C.B.T. on the other hand, labelled me
"Evel Knievel" since I took to the riding like a duck to water...
In the new year, also, I made the acquaintance of a Californian named Don. He turned out to be
a biker, has become my closest ally, and has taught me more about biking and mechanics
than I believed I was capable of knowing. All this through email. We got married in October
1997.
Learning to ride
We booked our lessons and a couple of weeks later started to ride, proper. The second
lesson in, I decided that it was time to make a total vegetable of myself by pulling out of a
junction, failing to steer, and crashing into the opposite kerb. This was lunchtime on a
Saturday, in Harpenden, on a busy high street. I wasn't quite sure whether I should laugh or
cry; the desire was to laugh, but Chris and my tutor Tony were so concerned about me that I
thought I'd better not. We went back home to patch up both myself and the bike; I'd bent the
front fork, and scraped my elbow even through a thick leather jacket. I also went flat on my
face, so was glad I didn't wear an open face helmet or else my face would have been
significantly rearranged... I later went back and did the same
junction without mishap. Once Tony had got over the shock and knew I was okay, he nicknamed
me Terminator. He also praised me because I didn't give up there and then, but arrived
the next lesson full of enthusiasm and sporting a magnificent set of bruises.
Tony split Chris and me into separate groups because our riding abilities
were so far apart - mine needed much more honing; I had to learn road sense, effectively for
the first time.
The silliness barrier
Whenever you learn a new skill, there is a subconscious "I can't" or
"silliness" barrier which you have to cross to be
sure you've truly learnt it. This barrier cropped up time and time again. The silliness is in
the big grin when you've done it and realise you need never have worried about it in the first
place. If you have a constantly negative attitude, you don't get anywhere. I had real trouble
with u-turns and the more I tried, the more I messed up - climbing onto pavements, nearly
dropping bikes, the lot. Yet when I did let go, when I managed to create enough of an atmosphere
of not worrying about it, I did lovely u-turns. In some ways, it is like looking at a star in
the sky; the more you stare, the more it vanishes. Getting in tune with the wyrd, and how it
runs through your life, is an important result of learning this lesson. I was a slow
learner; I failed my riding test twice on the u-turn (and other goofs).
I still remember the first perfect u-turn I did on Katie; the grin and sense of
achievement lasted me for several miles.
Similarly, when you learn a skill or make a decision, there are always tests that come up and
make you prove what you have learnt or chosen. Tony made me do a lot of u-turns; I kept on
getting them wrong until I could finally feel how to do them right. I also had, before
each lesson, to consciously squash down my years-old phobia of the road. That fear hasn't gone
yet; fears never do. What you do learn is how to live with them so that they
do not control you.
I found that biking was changing my life in other ways. I was becoming more confident and more
independent; because it was part of my geas, a fundamental part of me, I suppose this
was inevitable. I constantly had to affirm that biking was right for me when people expressed
their surprise that I couldn't drive a car, but I could ride a bike. To this day, people
still think I'm crazy - but I now accept this without embarrassment, and just grin. Round about this point I
started learning how to stick up for my views - it's still hard to not mind what others think
of me, but I've learnt how to get on with my life in the way I want to... One of the more
courageous things I did was telling my parents about it, and finding out to my surprise that I
had a sort of concerned admiration from my Dad, and a concerned acceptance from my Mam. Both of
them were pleased that I could be mobile.
I still enjoyed riding when it rained, and was windy, and so I supposed that this was the thing
for me. After all, I started learning in January, and in this case one test of my commitment came in the form of lousy weather! Even in
California, we've had a lot of rain...
Riding tests
I had my first riding test in March, but failed. I think that although I was not ready for it,
I also failed because I had built the whole thing up into something so important that I had no
chance at all. I was a nervous wreck; I wrecked my own riding test. I even got the
u-turn incredibly wrong.
What I had done was the opposite of letting go; I had clung onto it, and made it too much of
an issue. The opposite is to be too blasé about it, of course, to not care: there has to be a
balance between letting go and not caring. One has to let go - without letting go...
acknowledge that it's important, but not try to control the form it takes...
I went back to Tony's place to wait for Chris, who had his test after me. I found myself riding
solo for the first time in my life and it was quite an important step for me. By the time I
reached Harpenden, I had resolved to buy my own bike. I didn't think that I could be formally
taught a great deal more: the rest I would have to learn myself. I rang up for another test and
was offered one the next day. I wasn't at that point sure I wasn't ready,
as opposed to simply having bad nerves, so I took the
cancellation and went off to work. Chris passed his test; however, it wasn't too surprising
given his years of road experience.
The next day, I was altogether more mellow and not nervous; I treated the whole thing as a nice
ride out. I still failed, but that time I felt sure that I had not let myself down with nerves.
I still couldn't do the u-turn! Tony called me stupid for doing the test twice in a row,
but I believed then and believe now that it was a good decision: I showed myself that I
could do a test without freaking out, and I showed myself that I really wasn't
ready. I lost a little money, and if money is energy, it was well spent.
Boris the Bike
Not long afterwards, I had tracked down and bought the bike I wanted; on the 13th of April I
bought my first ever vehicle, Boris the Bike, a Honda CG125, from a dealership in Luton. The "nice clean bike" turned out
to have a rusty tank, which meant the engine was forever cutting as rust got into the fuel
line, and in fact I had to return him under warranty for fixing. However, the daily ride to work meant I got
plenty of practice and, more importantly, confidence and competence. There were always
setbacks; the very first one was hurting my back while trying to use the centre stand
(there was no side stand).
I forced and forced
and could I heck park that small bike; it weighed a ton as far as I was concerned. It
was like having the bike of my dreams in front of my nose and not being able to park it...
Yet, when my back healed and I tried again, the bike slipped quietly onto and off of its stand.
I found myself grinning. Silliness barrier again.
When I changed jobs in March, I found another ally in the form of Graham in stores, who arranged for me to keep Boris in the
warehouse during the day. He also was an ex biker. As things deteriorated for me at that
particular company, Graham was the one I could talk to and get a breath of sanity from in
the midst of monstrous bitchery and office politics. When I ultimately relocated to
California, he helped me out with boxes and extra space to throw things away. No fuss, no
hassle, just help where it was most needed.
I found that as I learnt new things about bikes and engines, so I was learning new things about
myself. It was almost as if we were running in parallel; an important stage was when I felt
like a part of the bike instead of merely its rider. I found out quite how resourceful I could
be; a bike as a means of personal development?! It may have taken me half an hour and a sore
back to figure out how to get Boris round tight bends into the back garden so that I could undo
the inline filter and drain the fuel to clean the engine, but I did it, unaided, and this was
the first time I had ever done anything even remotely mechanical without help. I had a whole
array of tools around me, none of which I really knew how to use, but my best guide was in
the emails sent me from California. In the end, a hefty tug released the filter. I even
managed to logic-talk myself out of undoing a bolt which would actually, when I took a closer look,
have emptied the whole contents of my tank onto the patio. I found my practical streak that
day; it still needs maintenance, but it's a thread I've pulled out and developed which I
never did before.
I also learnt a lot about not panicking when the engine cut, and about kick start bruises.
Before biking, such an occurrence would have left me gibbering and useless, so dependent had I
become on other people and believing that I had no technical or "coping" capability. With
biking, though, it all
seemed part of the fun, but I made myself a promise that I was never going to kick start
another bike once I'd passed my test!
It's interesting to note that almost all of the close friends or people who have made a big
difference in my life have expressed an interest in or a liking for motorcycles, even if they
didn't ride themselves. I wonder if it's just a mindset that goes with these vehicles - the
real sense of free spirit.
Third time lucky
Chris bought himself a Honda CX500 and accompanied me on longer rides up until June when I passed my
test. I had managed to calm myself down for the test and got the stupidity out of my system
beforehand. When I did a perfect u-turn, I was absolutely elated. Nothing else mattered; I'd
got over the bugbear, the obstacle, and could relax. I did little short of bounce up and down
when the examiner announced my success, and even he, one of those chosen for their stately
manner and lack of humour, smiled broadly. I made a mad dash back and actually broke down about
a mile from home! I was so high that I didn't give a monkey's and, after sorting the bike out,
made a lot of phonecalls. Those who knew me recognised the achievement of a non-driver and it
goes down as one of the best days in my life. I had passed from being a bikeling to a biker; a
real initiation, and a turning point. Sometimes, such turning points can be recognised;
it's where various threads of wyrd, various possibilities, conjoin, and there is a
distinct alteration in the awareness and understanding of one's self.
When I got back to work, Graham looked disappointed because I still had my L-plates on. I
laughed and told him to get a screwdriver and we ceremonially took off my learner markings. My
rare allies upstairs had devised a computer graphic cartoon in advance to congratulate
me, and
I shared Bucks Fizz and orange juice with the entire office. Inspired by all this, my friend
Delia later did the C.B.T. herself - along with a woman who'd decided to treat herself to biking
for a 70th birthday present!
Biking provides a "mask" - a different persona in which to develop the real me. I put on my
bike gear, even for a ride on back, and I feel my spirit lifting. Delia also discovered this
when she tried on my helmet for the first time. And I get a kick out of being seen - and out of
the camaraderie of bikers, demonstrated time and time again - the way we are somehow linked.
And there's a twist in this, too: one of the predominant feelings of driving a car was the
feeling of being watched, judged, feeling stupid because I made mistakes. With biking, the
tables are turned; I like to be looked at, particularly when the observers realise that
it's a woman on that big shiny bike! I feel proud, more confident, more together - and there's
nobody in the co-pilot seat disapproving of my skills, only I have that responsibility,
according to my own criteria.
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Part 1 |
Part 2 |
Part 3 |
Part 4 |
Part 5
Biking :
Miscellaneous
Wyrd Motorcycling Part 3 - January to June 1996
This page created 12 Oct 1996
Last update 30 Apr 2007
© 1996-2007 White Raven
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