Testing times

I had precisely one lesson on the road with a motorbike instructor.  Which is where I met Harold.  A retired chap who had set up a motorcycle training centre with a Honda CX500.  Slow and sedate thought I seeing and hearing him, which meant boring.  He told me, after following me at 40mph on an A road where everyone else wanted to do 60mph, that I needed to build confidence.  He said don’t waste money on lessons if I was terrified.  So practice until I wasn’t afraid anymore.  Which meant riding and riding and riding.  Slow and fast(er).  There wasn’t much point in having lessons or taking a test if I couldn’t reach the speed limit.  This remark came back to haunt me as I took the second part of my test in Oxford in Oct 1990.

The Oxford test centre is on Cowley.  The test route took in side roads, roundabouts, t-junctions and the inner ring road.  Dutifully I performed the tasks as I was told. Turn left here.  Straight on across the double mini-roundabout there.   It was on the 40mph inner ring road that I was told to pull over.  What could I have done wrong?  This wasn’t normal.  The instructor got off his bike and walked up to me.  Traffic was passing on our right.  Oh no.  I must have failed and he is stopping the test!  But he had a radio headset so didn’t need to walk up to me.  What was going on?

“Why were you going so slowly?” he asks, voice shaking slightly.

“I was just under the speed limit” I respond.

“Well go at the speed limit” he tells me and walks back to his bike.

It dawned on me he was scared.  A Range Rover had been driving no more than a foot behind his rear wheel, at 38-39 mph and had roared by as we pulled over.   Stuck on his bike between me, the candidate sticking, almost, to the speed limit and the lunatic car driver he had no options to reduce his risk apart from stopping.  To me a test fail beckoned.

We get back to the test centre.  I am asked some questions about road signs and the Highway Code.   Here it comes.  “I am pleased to say you have passed”.  What?  Yes!  Full category A licence is mine!  I can ride anything!  I never need be tested again!  25 years later I had cause to wonder about the wisdom of that rule.