Today was my first day of Compulsory Basic Training. There is a saying, not sure who officially deserves credit for it, but it goes something like if there is something missing in your life, and it’s most likely you. Today was another day working on fixing that for me and even I had no idea how much fixing it actually would be.
Anyway I decided to just do it. Kaz is as she is; she never does anything by halves. 2012 working out to a banner year for that and not even three weeks in. (There is a big thank you in that to the mates who have helped Kaz back on her feet the first week.)
I rang around and got some ideas of where to go, but most of the training agencies in our area have gone bankrupt.
The few that are left are struggling.
I happened upon
RideSafe. I have to admit these guys are great.
They have a keen sense of purpose and pride in their school and their students.
More importantly they have a passion for motorcycling that is not only reverent but obvious.
They are supportive and do a very good job ensuring you are totally comfortable with what you’re doing.
Now - mates of mine - Don’t tell me I’m going to kill myself on a bike, but be assured if I do, it’d be one of the top three ways to go – the other two – fabulous orgasm and morphine.
Who wouldn’t?
OK I’ve had a
Suzuki Van Van between my legs for all of about 120 minutes.
Some would think that is absolutely mad.
The fact is the longing for something like, um, nearly 40 years, has been heard and yep, it’s a part of me – without doubt and it’s just been confirmed by that 120 minutes.
Probably makes absolutely no sense to someone that doesn’t get it, but it’s that simple.
That may not be “the” bike, but it’s properly the start of something beautiful.
But me being me – the story itself – well … it’s a typical Kaz one is all I can say.
Walked in to four worried gentlemen’s faces as I had my ballet shoes on my feet and my walking boots in hand.
Saying, “Found it!”
To which the answer was
“You…must… be…Karen.”
Confirmed, I grabbed a pew and promptly removed ballet shoes revealing my
Rockstar Toes (red nail polish with glitter) yes they all noticed when the instructor stared, although I kept my head down I felt all eyes on me
and proceeded to put on my wool socks and walking boots with my
long purple shellac nails.
I knew these few seconds mean the summary judgment of what I was in for was taking place.
While I was putting on my second boot discussions about what everybody was going to be pursuing to ride came about.
The older bloke and I wanted bikes and the younger blokes were doing scooters.
The instructor asked me if I was sure I didn’t want a scooter and told him – absolutely sure – bike.
Explained I’d not bought one yet but knew it’d be a bike and I’ll be doing the DAS so I can have the bike I want.
He smiled nervously, as you would expect any seasoned instructor who met a new student to do – let alone it being OTT me.
He wasn’t sure how to take me yet.
I knew that respect was going to have to be earned.
Throughout the course of the morning I heard stories about previous trainees who had cut across roundabouts, who misunderstood signs couldn’t follow directions, how long it took to pass a CBT, etc. One of the trainees was 18 so I know it wasn’t slated against women but suspected the amount of women that had been through this course weren’t as many as men. As I participated in the discussions, and correctly answered questions I noticed the stories changed and found out the instructor was on the wife’s bike today. This kind of helped me relax. I was quiet and a bit shy even for me in that environment, but as time went on I got more comfortable – I knew what I was in for being the only woman, it’s not the first time I got myself into that kind of situation in this country and I’m sure it’d not be the last. They all began to relax when they pulled out a bike and started going over the bits – and the answers to the instructor’s questions were coming from me and they were right mostly.
I was earning the right to be interesting always a bit dangerous I know. I paid attention and took it all in. They all knew I’d only ever been a pillion, so the first thing after choosing a set of kit was the instruction that I must remember to put my feet down. I laughed, I knew I’d put my feet down, it’s the one thing I always had to resist doing as a pillion, but the solution became hands behind back under the strap immediately holds a posture where feet remain on pedals. Sitting forward hanging onto handlebars I knew I’d want to put my feet down, that wasn’t what I was worried about – it was the instructor’s story about the woman who never put her feet down who was a pillion that worried me.
Already I had thoughts of the horror story that would be mine. I’ve been with farmers, foundry men, electricians, joiners, photographers, journalists, and industrial blue collar men since I was born, and I know what they are like, too well sometimes. There on the training ground with the bike in front of me the fear gripped. Not fear of the bike. Not fear of the training. The fear of the nickname from hell. I could see it looming on their faces.
I got the bike we used for instruction in how to find our way around a bike and I breathed a sign of relief. It was short lived as I lost the seasoned trainer, who I am sure went to school with hubby and I know from some other scene but can’t place it, when we were asked to get on the bike and I put up the kickstand first then got on. First mistake – kickstand takes the weight – don’t be so in a hurry – you’ll regret it with a heavier bike. I could see all the other women who frustrated him in training in his eyes and felt sorry for him. Worse screwed up my second chance with the seasoned instructor when asked to paddle the bikes round in a circle and I struggled.
I took a deep breath and said to myself “You can do this. “ Then R2 announced he’d work with me. When he asked what was wrong I explained I knew I was going to do something stupid and end up with an awful nickname haunting me. Once he stopped laughing he told me I was right, and tried to reassure me that all I had to do was get on with it and I’d be fine.
It didn’t help.
First thing I forgot was first gear.
R2 laughing came up to me and said, “To save you sitting there, wondering why you’re not going to move, try first Kaz.” I looked up – my totally and utterly female nerves were making R2 laugh. I could feel my cheeks getting red. Hands up in admission “I knew I was forgetting something!” I laughed too. Around the track I went remembering to use my rear brake and clutch to prevent myself crashing into the barriers and tires around the edge – returning to the starting position exceptionally proud of myself I didn’t stall, didn’t hit anything and managed to do it. Ok so it took me four times longer than everyone else… Granny does come to mind.
R2 was still laughing and he had me hop off. He hopped on. “I’m not having you go round saying you’ve been here driving like that. Kaz, this is what you look like.” He did a circle around me jaunting and jittering. I went purple with embarrassment. “I know you can feel it. Let go.” He gave it back to me.
I hoped on, and started off determined to be smooth and cool.
A sweet voice in my head said, “
Have fun and you’ll be fine.”
I stalled the engine and immediately fired it back up and set off again.
Smooth, getting the feel for the bike and around I went.
When I looked over a couple times R2 had a huge smile.
“Kaz, this is about slow control, do it again, WALKING pace.”
Ok somewhere between Mario Andretti (well not really it was still first gear) and Granny I went.
Success a happy instructor!
Then came the bain of every biker’s life.
Cornering. Worse for me through figure eights.
I know from my mates that cornering is something no matter how long you ride you long to perfect and are always working on.
I wish I’d not thought of that but I did.
It took me several times attempting the right turn and the left turns although happening were like drag circuits in size.
It took R2 saying my determination was phenomenal to remind me of “Have fun.”
I had to do three figure eights perfectly to move on, and each time I’d get through two and R2 would say something complimentary and I’d loose it and mess up the third because I’d start over thinking again.
R2 laughed and came over to me – after a little chat he realized I wasn’t the type of girl that had to be convinced to like a bike or not be afraid of it. We discussed determination. I explained why I wanted to do my CBT and how I was giving this to myself as a birthday present and why. I explained hubby didn’t know and I wasn’t telling him unless I got discovered until I decided what bike I wanted. R2 laughed and said he respected that. He had me do U turns. I nailed them first go. Then I nailed the figure eights. I had to do four cause one I did too fast and had to repeat it showing I could do slow control.
At this point R2 explained he was impressed and I had the feel of the bike – impressive for a first timer and I wasn’t that far behind the others. I told him I had surprised myself and was happy to do what we could and come back another day. We agreed we’d get as far as we could and do all the book stuff and save the road for another day so we weren’t rushing for the light (it gets dark up here about 3.) The only thing left on the bike was gear changes. R2 explained them; I made him repeat it and made a face. He hopped on the bike and went round me showing me what he meant. I knew my face gleamed when he handed it back to me.
Hopped on, and over thought again, looking at my bloody left foot wasn’t I? Stalling the bike as a result. R2 came up – said one thing. “Look up.” The little girl disappeared and Kaz took over. Next set – nailed them – perfect execution including the turns. R2 was obviously impressed and so was I! R2 said thinking will be the downfall for me – showing and doing will be the way and he doubts I’ll be long off my license if I keep on like that.
OK I’m paying him for the lessons and he has to be complimentary – I get that. Granted I’m sure others pick up and do it all in one day but what I learned today sank in properly and I’ll be better for the full run on my own with R2 next week. Three solid hours on the bike made up of an hour on the test track and then two hours on the road starting from half eight. The week after is the theory test. Then I start my DAS. Yep. Hooked. Forever. In 120 minutes. Typical female I'm sure.
