DRIVING

I've ridden motorbikes for 44 years and driven cars for 35. My motorcycle 'training' consisted of my dad taking me into the car park next to our house and showing me how to start and stop the bike and how to change gears. And that was it!  I was taught to drive a car by my then husband (though the first time he tried, we got halfway down our road when he became annoyed with me and started shouting, so I got out and walked back home! I then refused to try again for about 6 months). I eventually took two proper lessons just to make sure I was ready for the test. I have, almost a phobia, about practical tests. I absolutely hate them. They make me feel sick, I feel faint, I can't breath. Hate, hate, hate them. Written tests are no problem. In fact, I love taking exams, but not practical tests. So I put off taking either driving test for a long, long time. When I did finally take them I passed both first time. I went on to teach both my kids to drive as well. My ex-h had attempted to teach our daughter (who I've long suspected of being on the spectrum) but he's got no patience and she was a very nervous learner, so they didn't mix well. I took over a couple of years later and both she and my son went on to pass first time. I taught them to drive, then they had two proper lessons in order to learn how to pass the test (because they're completely different things!). I absolutely love driving! I've worked as both a bike and a car/van courier in my time and absolutely adored it (apart from driving in London and Derby. London because it's, well, it's London. And Derby because the inner ring road was an absolute nightmare at the time. You could end up going round and round it until you disappeared up your own exhaust pipe!) I always signal, even if there's no one around to see it, much to the amusement of some passengers I've had,  "Indicating to the rabbits again?", and I do my life savers, even in a car. I like rules and don't like breaking them, or seeing them broken, so other drivers do tend to annoy me at times but I just mutter under my breath to myself. I'm not into road rage and confrontation. The advice I gave my kids was,  make sure you've got an instructor that you like and trust, and take your time, don't try and rush things. If you stall. Take a couple of deep breaths, ignore the other drivers, don't let them intimidate you, and just start again. Oh, and practice, practice, practice, in all weathers. 

ur dad sounds awesome. 44 years on a bike thats awesome you must have had some close shaves 

ur dad sounds awesome. 44 years on a bike thats awesome you must have had some close shaves 

I've been lucky and I've not really had any close shaves on a bike. I tell a lie, 6 months into my motorcycling career, and as green as a green thing, I met a car coming the opposite way, on my side of the road (his side was full of parked cars, my side was a grass verge edging a large wooded area), at night, in the rain. I could either swerve into the parked cars, serve onto the grass verge, or hit the car head on. I chose option number two and ended up wrapped around a tree. Luckily I came away with no broken bones but my bike wasn't so fortunate. I've had lots of, "That could have been nasty if I wasn't so alert" moments, but I seem to have an innate sense of when a driver is going to do something stupid!  My ex-h, on the other hand, has had two very serious bike accidents, either of which could easily have killed him. The first one was when he was riding to work and was going up a long straight incline with a cross roads at the top, but his right of way. Just as he reached the summit, a bus pulled out in front of him and he went straight into the side. He was only doing 40mph but it resulted in multiple broken bones and lacerations, and a dislocated shoulder. His bike was a complete write off. It looked like it had been put through a scrap yard compressor! The second time he was riding in London, white lining through heavy traffic, doing 15mph. A car decided to turn right, without checking mirrors or indicating, just as he reached its tail lights. His bike ended up going into the side of it and he flew over the roof. More broken bones, the same shoulder dislocated, and 53 stitches across his eyebrow and the bridge of his nose (that was from catching the edge of screen of his bike through his open visor as he passed over it). How he walked (metaphorically) away from either accident, but particularly the first, remains a mystery to me. It's never put me off riding though, I love it.