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The butterflies were at it again, offering a repeat performance 24 hours after their first. This time, however it was not the anticipation of riding, but rather the knowledge that at the end of the day, we would be tested. In a former life I was a ski pro, a full-time downhill skiing instructor, and I clearly remember choking during the on-snow test at the conclusion of a few week-long training courses. Would it be the same thing on pavement, on two wheels? The day started with keeping a steady speed through curves, then accelerating in a curve, shifting to second halfway through, and later downshifting in a curve, first from second, then from third gear. We then learned about emergency maneuvers, which started by dropping the anchor in a straight line, and then in a curve. At first we picked the moment to start breaking, then the instructors did that for us, by dropping their raised hand. For the first time, I struggled with an exercise: either I was pulling on the binders but not straightening up the bike or I was in a straight line, but not squeezing hard enough, thus running out of road marked by small traffic cones.
Sensing the whole group of 10 wasn't going anywhere and had reached a plateau of mediocrity, they moved us on to traffic awareness and signaling our intentions. In a nutshell, it meant figuring out what's going on, signaling -- by hand --, checking our blind spot and then doing what we promised the other drivers we would do. After lunch, they put all 40 students in the same parking lot, told us which corners were stops and which one yield signs and left us to rotate our heads around like barn owls. Surprisingly, no collisions ensued. Back in our small group again, we practiced emergency manoeuvres, including the braking-as-hard-as-you-can in a curve, from the middle of second gear. I finally nailed that exercise, concentrating and telling myself, à la Homer Simpson, "Brain, you don't like me and I don't like you. But if you get me through this, I promise I'll go back to killing you slowly with alcohol." The test was held in mid-afternoon, after a bathroom break before which I truly understood the meaning of the word "desperation" (three litres of water, remember.) I will not relate here what was on that test, because the instructors often say "we don't teach you to pass a test, we teach you to stay alive" And how did I do? I passed with one mark short of a perfect score. And telling you what I did wrong would contradict the previous paragraph. So what now? Well, my licence will be upgraded to M2 after November 4. And, oh yeah, there's the little detail of actually owning a motorcycle. To paraphrase Richard III, "A bike, a bike, my kingdom for a bike!" |