Chastened by my inability to ride around a couple of cones, I really should have approached the road element of the motorcycle test with even more concerns of potential failure, but from the start I've really enjoyed riding on the road.
High viz'd up and ready for the test - gulp
That isn't to say that I expected to pass - not at all. In fact I went into the test expecting to fail on some minor infringement. But given how much extra low speed confidence I'd gleaned from failing my Stage 1 and being forced to do several hours extra cone wobbling, I felt the same process would probably benefit me on the road. A weird strategy and almost certainly a coping mechanism for impending failure but it was locked into my head.
Stage 2 required two days in the diary - the first was a six-hour session rolling around Newport, followed by a further hour-or-so the following morning as a refresh and then straight into the test. It's really very little time to learn how to control the machine and all of the observations that are required to pass the test. If I hadn't spent so much time driving a car, I don't think I'd have stood a chance.
I thoroughly enjoyed my day's training on the same Suzuki Gladius I'd used for Stage 1. Loads of torque and a very low seating position were perfect for me - and it really is gigglesome just how fast even a conventionally slow bike is from 30-70mph. Also how thrilling the sense of speed and acceleration are, especially with no screen to reduce buffeting.
The day went well, and I didn't seem to have many serious problems, although I was finding the new 20mph zones very tricky because the changes from 30 to 20 and back again were so poorly signposted. Most of the time you don't really know which one you're in. If in doubt, do 20mph...
Predictably, my relaxed attitude was shattered within sight of the test centre, amplified by a terrible need to visit the gents. God I hate tests and exams, and their effect on your toilet habits. But the examiner was a decent human being, and this always helps calm the nerves. I appeared to answer my maintenance and pillion questions correctly and then we went off on the test ride, him following me. This lasted for around 15 minutes, before he asked me to stop and pull a hill start. I wonder if he heard me yell 'YES, YOU BEAUTY!" when I didn't lurch or leave a leg dangling too long.
Went the day well? Going by the grin...
Then we rode further and the longer it went, the more I wanted it to stop because I felt I was doing OK and added exposure to Newport could only lead to an inevitable whoopsie at some point. After around 40 minutes, we were back at the test centre.
I suspected I'd failed - for two reasons. The first was a slightly late indication leaving a roundabout. The second was a bloody awkward moment where an illegally parked van forced me to wait for oncoming traffic and there was a Mexican stand-off between me and another van. He flashed me and I didn't quite know what to do in response - gesture or accept his offer?
Seems I didn't get it badly wrong, because he said I'd passed my test - at which point I tried to suppress a massive grin, but failed miserably.
The ride back to Thunder Road Honda in Newport was joyous. And so begins the hunt for a motorcycle and the clobber which goes with it.
By the time you've read this I will have taken delivery of all of it. I liked the low-seated twin with an upright seating position, so try and guess what I've bought. I am anticipating much derision from the PH masses!