It seemed the time had come for me to learn to drive on two wheels. I dutifully went down to Motor Vehicles and got my “Learn to Ride” manual. Two weeks later I was the proud recipient of my learner’s permit, and two weeks after that, I was standing in front of a Honda Nighthawk 250 with 4 other people, ready to take on learning to ride these machines. We had already completed 2 evenings of classroom learning, where I not only reviewed the rules of the road, I began to deal with a lot of noise in my head that sounded a lot like “OMG, what am I doing here? This is WAY TOO DANGEROUS for me!” Because this was a safety course, there was a lot of emphasis on risk management, and how to avoid potential dangerous situations. This meant there was a lot of discussion of dangerous situations! No wonder I was beginning to have a minor freak-out. Each night after class I would drive home, keenly aware of signs, lines and potential hazards. I was beginning to drive like a biker.
On the actual riding days, we began in an enclosed parking lot. Nothing but some painted lines, some chalk drawings and a few pylons. Seemed safe enough. We began with learning how to get on a bike. Strange though it seemed at the time, there is a way, and then there is a safe way. I was beginning to see the pattern here. From mounting the bikes, we learned how to work the clutch and throttle together, slowly moving the bikes around the lot. From there it was figure 8’s and u-turns, all in first gear, all going very, very slowly. Meanwhile the noise in my head was getting louder and louder, and the pressure to get it right became so unbearable at one point, I stopped the bike, took off my helmet and burst into tears in front of my instructor. A short break, a coaching conversation by email with a good friend, some food and water, and I went back to the bike with a new attitude. This was supposed to be fun, and I wasn’t giving myself any room to experience the thrill of learning to ride. I had been too focused on getting it all perfect because of our impending trip. Inside of the coaching I received, I saw that I was afraid of disappointing Marc - if I didn’t learn enough in the course, we wouldn’t be doing a bike tour. I also saw how ridiculous that was, because really, if I wasn’t confident enough to take on a ride like we planned, I needed to be able to say that without fear of repercussion. Ultimately I knew Marc wanted me safe and alive, not lying in a ditch somewhere because I hadn’t successfully navigated a corner or something else. What I also saw was that we could still have our holiday, it would just be on 4 wheels instead of 2 and it would still be great. With a deep breath, I got back on the bike, and spent the remainder of the day focused on the instruction and putting it all together. By the end of the afternoon I was successfully making tight u-turns, gearing up and down and practicing emergency stops
Midway through Day 2, we had our ICBC Skills Assessment test. This involved riding through a course of pylons set up for slow riding, u-turns, zigzagging (so much fun!), 90 degree corners and emergency stops in 2nd gear. Although I didn’t score a perfect mark (what is that about perfection??), I did pass the first time through. My second test was now complete; all that remained was the road test.
That afternoon we went out riding on the road. Along the coastline and through the city we navigated tourists, pedestrians, buses and construction. We went around blind corners and up and down big hills. We merged onto the highway and used the off ramps. We took turns leading the group, and riding in other positions of staggered formation. Just when I was feeling super confident, I was involved in one very short moment of terror. Thank goodness for me I was the only one involved, but it was enough to have my confidence shaken, and again, have to deal with that dreaded voice (which was beginning to sound more and more like my mom every time!). A short moment to breathe, my riding buddy and I assessed the situation and got back out on the road, riding to catch up with our group. I finished the ride, but when we got back to the parking lot where we had started, I was done for the day. And when I got home, I burst into tears, allowing the shock of the incident to hit me. Talking it out with Marc, letting the tears flow, I figured I was over it. Not quite. Two days later, after a couple of sleepless nights, I was overcome with tightness in my chest and a strong urge to cry off and on throughout my workday.
Now I know that in the past, that would have been it. I would have called it quits and shut down any possibility of even riding a motorbike again. I would have blamed Marc, there would have been a fight, and I would have effectively put a wedge in my relationship, driving us apart. This time, however, I called another coach, one who drives a motorbike. He gave me an exercise to do, a meditation that would allow me to dissipate the charge of the situation. When I was finished with the exercise, I tested it by talking to Marc about it – no tightness, no tears, no charge. Later in the evening a conversation with another rider (and coach) got me to see that stuff like that happens on bikes, and it wasn’t about me or my riding skills. I woke up this morning filled with a sense of freedom and joy, and astonishment that I had actually really truly learned how to ride. What there was for me to do now was practice! Reframing my incident from “scary” to “a story to share with other riders over beer” has not only taken 95% of the charge from the incident, it has given me a new and healthy respect for motorcycles, as well as a reminder to never take my safety for granted.
So here I am - a hot, wild and powerful motorcycle mama and I have the scarf to prove it! Ride on!
I'll be waiting for a ride so we can wrap donuts in the school soccor field.. cant wait!!
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