I think what frightens me most about ageing is not actually getting older.

It is the gradual process of being erased.

Not suddenly.

Not dramatically.

Quietly.

Life hands you the rubber little by little and encourages you to start removing parts of yourself.

First, motherhood changes. Your children grow older and no longer need mothering in the same way. The role that once defined huge parts of your existence slowly becomes less central. Necessary, but quieter somehow.

Then work changes too. If, like me, you start again professionally in your fifties, you often find yourself climbing back down the corporate ladder financially and professionally at exactly the point in life where you thought things would finally feel secure.

Then the hormones arrive to strip away another layer. The softness changes. The confidence changes. Your body changes. Your relationship with mirrors changes. It feels as though the woman is slowly being erased from you molecule by molecule while the world
politely pretends not to notice.

And somewhere in the middle of all that, you begin disappearing from public view too.

You notice younger people looking through you instead of at you. You become less visible in rooms, less listened to, less desired, less central. Not old enough to be cared for yet, but no longer young enough to be celebrated either.

You become middle-aged.

The invisible middle.

Which is perhaps why motorcycles matter so much to me now.

Because if you really think about it, riding gear should make me feel even more invisible. A motorcycle covers everything. My face. My hair. My body. My hands. My legs. Even my feet disappear beneath layers of armour and leather.

Nothing of me is actually on show.

And yet I have never felt more visible in my life.

The motorcycle became the opposite of an invisible cloak.

When I pull my helmet on and climb onto the bike, I am no longer shrinking quietly into the background of my own life. The machine demands space. Noise. Presence. Attention.

I become visible again.

Not in a vain way.

Not because I need admiration.

But because I need to feel present.

I need to feel that I still exist loudly enough to leave a mark on the world around me.

Perhaps that is why so many women ride later in life. Not because we are having crises. Not because we are reckless. But because after years of being useful, responsible, exhausted, supportive and sensible for everybody else, we want to reclaim something that
belongs entirely to us.

Movement.

Identity.

Freedom.

Visibility.

Road users still fail to see motorcycles sometimes, of course. Riders know that better than anybody. But perhaps that is why bikers become so determined to be noticed. Bright helmets. Loud pipes. Bright lights. Positioning ourselves clearly on the road.

We are forcing ourselves to remain visible in a world that quietly encourages older women to fade into the background.

And maybe every time I start the engine, what I am really saying is this:

I am here. I do matter. I do exist.

Ride safe my friend 🙏

Bikes reappear.

Group rides fill up.

Social feeds explode with first-ride photos.

And accident statistics quietly rise.

If you’ve searched:

• “Why are motorcycle accidents higher in spring?”
• “First ride after winter tips”
• “Spring motorcycle safety advice”

You’re asking the right questions.

Here are the Top 10 Motorcycle Mistakes Riders Make in Spring: and how to

avoid them.

1️⃣ Riding Too Far on the First Day Back

After months off, a 200-mile blast sounds glorious.

It’s also exhausting.

Fatigue creeps in faster than you think, especially when your reflexes aren’t fully tuned back in.

Fix: Start with short, familiar routes. Build endurance gradually.

2️⃣ Overestimating Your Skill After Winter

You haven’t forgotten how to ride.

But you may have forgotten how sharp your reactions need to be.

Spring accidents often involve:

• Misjudged bends
• Late braking
• Hesitation at junctions

Fix: Ride at 70% of your perceived ability for your first few outings.

3️⃣ Ignoring Dirty UK Roads

Winter leaves behind:

• Gravel on rural bends
• Salt residue
• Diesel spills
• Potholes

These are especially dangerous in the first warm weeks.

Fix: Brake earlier. Accelerate smoother. Scan road surfaces constantly.

4️⃣ Jumping Straight Into Group Rides

Group rides amplify pressure.

You don’t want to hold people up. You don’t want to look inexperienced.

That ego spike causes mistakes.

Fix: Do two or three solo rides before riding in a pack.

5️⃣ Forgetting Slow-Speed Control

Most drops don’t happen at 70mph.

They happen at:

• Roundabouts
• Car parks
• Tight junctions

Rusty clutch control shows up immediately.

Fix: Spend 15 minutes in a quiet car park practising slow manoeuvres before heading out.

6️⃣ Riding Emotionally

Spring energy feels incredible.

You’ve missed the bike. You want to open it up.

Excitement + ego = risk.

Fix: Treat your first rides as reconnection, not performance.

7️⃣ Skipping the Pre-Season Bike Check

After winter storage, issues can develop:

• Flat-spotted tyres
• Low pressure
• Stiff chains
• Corrosion
• Weak batteries

Mechanical uncertainty kills confidence.

Fix: Check tyres, chain, brakes, lights, and fluids before your first ride.

8️⃣ Assuming Drivers See You

Drivers have spent months without bikes around them.

Their awareness is lower.

Spring is when SMIDSY incidents (“Sorry Mate, I Didn’t See You”) increase.

Fix: Ride as if invisible. Position for visibility. Never rely on eye contact.

9️⃣ Comparing Yourself to Other Riders

This one’s psychological.

You see riders online:

• Faster
• More confident
• On bigger bikes

Comparison pushes you to ride beyond your comfort zone.

Fix: Ride your ride. Progress quietly.

🔟 Ignoring the Quiet Anxiety

Many riders won’t admit it publicly.

But the first ride of the season can feel:

• Slightly intimidating
• Physically exposing
• More vulnerable than remembered

And ignoring that feeling creates tension.

Fix: Acknowledge it. Build confidence methodically.

Why Motorcycle Accidents Increase in Spring

UK data consistently shows a seasonal rise in incidents as weather improves.

The reasons are predictable:

• Rider rustiness
• Driver inattention
• Road debris
• Excitement outrunning skill

The good news?

All of those are manageable.

How to Rebuild Riding Confidence Properly

Motorcycle safety in spring isn’t about fear.

It’s about recalibration.

If you’re returning to riding after winter and feeling slightly unsure, you’re not behind.

You’re aware.

That’s strength.

I wrote Back On The Bike specifically for this moment — a structured rider confidence reset for seasonal riders.

And for newer riders navigating CBT nerves and early-season uncertainty:

The CBT Calm Checklist (UK Edition) gives a clear, practical mental framework before you ride.

Because spring shouldn’t feel like pressure.

It should feel like steady progression.

Final Thought

The riders who stay on the road long-term aren’t the loudest.

They’re the most self-aware.

Spring isn’t about proving anything.

It’s about riding smart enough to enjoy summer.

“How do I ride a motorcycle safely?”

Not how fast.

Not how cool.

Not how to wheelie.

But how to stay safe.

That question alone tells me something about you:

You’re the kind of rider who will still be riding in ten years.

Let’s talk properly about what motorcycle safety actually means, especially in the UK.

Why Motorcycle Safety Feels So Overwhelming at First

When you start riding, everything feels like a threat:

• Cars pulling out at every turn
• Roundabouts (especially fast ones)
• Wet roads (with the sun on them)
• Gravel (those delicious lumps in the middle of the lane)
• Bends (tight ones)
• Other riders (who may or may not think their Barry Sheen)
• Your own nerves (these are probably the worst out of the list)

It’s not weakness. It’s awareness overload.

Your brain is trying to process:

Balance + gears + clutch + mirrors + road position + traffic + weather.

No wonder it feels intense.

But here’s the truth:

Motorcycle safety is not about perfection.

It’s about systems.

7 Motorcycle Safety Principles Every Beginner Needs

(These are what actually keep riders upright long-term.)

1️⃣ Master Slow Control First

Most beginner drops happen at low speed.

Practise:

• Clutch control
• Feathered throttle
• Rear brake balance
• Tight turns

Confidence doesn’t come from speed.

It comes from control.

2️⃣ Assume You Are Invisible

One of the most important UK motorcycle safety tips:

Ride as if drivers have not seen you.

Because often, they haven’t. Trust me on this one.

Position yourself for visibility:

• Don’t sit in blind spots
• Avoid riding directly alongside cars
• Use road positioning strategically. Own the road!

Visibility reduces risk.

3️⃣ Ride Below Your Ego

Spring is when accidents spike.

Why?

Because excitement outruns skill and this is the truth that no one talks about.

Your first season is not the time to:

• Chase bigger bikes
• Keep up with faster riders
• Push your limits on country bends

The safest riders progress slowly.

4️⃣ Respect UK Road Conditions

UK roads bring specific risks:

• Wet tarmac
• Diesel spills
• Gravel on rural bends
• Painted lines (especially in rain)
• Potholes

Smooth inputs.

Early braking.

Gentle throttle.

Aggression causes slides.

5️⃣ Gear Is Non-Negotiable

Helmet, gloves, boots, proper jacket and trousers.

Not because you plan to crash.

Because unpredictability exists.

ATGATT (All The Gear, All The Time) isn’t paranoia.

It’s discipline.

6️⃣ Don’t Ride Emotionally

Bad day?

Argument?

Trying to prove something?

Don’t ride angry.

Your emotional state affects:

• Throttle control
• Decision-making
• Risk assessment

Calm riders are safer riders.

7️⃣ Build Confidence in Layers

New riders often make this mistake:

They expect instant confidence.

Confidence builds like this:

Car park → quiet roads → moderate traffic → faster roads → longer rides.

Layer it.

Don’t leap it.

Motorcycle Accident Statistics UK (What Actually Matters)

You may have seen the statistics.

Motorcyclists represent a small percentage of traffic but a larger percentage of serious injuries.

But here’s what those stats often involve:

• Excess speed
• Rural high-speed bends
• Overtaking misjudgements
• Rider inexperience

Most accidents are not random.

They are situational.

And situations can be managed.

If You’re Nervous About Riding…

That’s not a red flag.

It’s a green one.

The riders who scare me are the ones who feel invincible.

If you feel:

• Intimidated by your bike
• Rusty after winter
• Unsure after passing CBT
• Nervous riding alone

You don’t need bravado.

You need structure.

That’s exactly why I created:

👉 The CBT Calm Checklist (UK Edition) — a structured confidence system for new riders👉 Back On The Bike — a guide for rebuilding seasonal riding confidence

They’re not manuals.

They’re calm frameworks.

Final Thought: Riding Safely Isn’t About Fear

It’s about awareness.

Motorcycling isn’t “dangerous” by default.

It’s demanding.

And when you meet that demand with:

• Patience
• Training
• Humility
• Consistency

It becomes one of the most life-affirming experiences you can have.

Ride smart.

Ride steady.

Ride for the long term.

#howtorideamotorcyclesafelyUK #motorcyclesafetytipsforbeginners

#beginnermotorcycleadvice #motorcycleaccidentstatisticsUK #newrideranxiety

#passingCBTandridingalone #returningtoridingafterwinter

Yesterday was the first time I stood next to the very one I have just purchased. I almost turned around.

It really isn’t any different than my current one. Same engine etc. It’s the same bike, I tell myself.

After a few weeks off my current one, it still feels big. And I feel smaller.

Heavier. More serious. More exposed. Which is daft right? It hasn’t grown!

If you have ever felt intimidated by your motorcycle, especially after a winter break, you’re not weak or suffering from short term memory loss.

You’re experiencing what is known as a perception shift.

When you ride regularly, your brain builds a familiarity map:

Weight

Balance

Lean

Braking feel

Road positioning.

When you stop riding for a while (like winter) that map fades a little.

The bike hasn’t grown. Your certainty has shrunk quietly.

Your brain interprets that gap as risk. Thanks brain.

That’s why even the most seasoned of riders can look at their bikes and think:

Hang on, do I still have this?

It’s about repetition. Not skill. Not even engine size.

Here’s what’s actually happening:

Your good old nervous system loved predictability. When the repetition drops, alertness taps you on the shoulder and says a cheery ‘hello!’

The motorcycle feels bigger because your internal reference points are quieter.

This is especially common for:

Shorter riders

Riders who’ve upgraded bikes

Returning riders after winter

Anyone else who has had a break from two wheels for a while.

The solution isn’t just getting on with it. It’s about controlled re-acclimatisation.

So, the next time you scratch your head, here’s what to do:

1. Sit on the bike without starting it.
2. Feet down. Hands on bars.
3. Close your eyes for 30 seconds
4. Breathe slowly
5. Visualise a short, calm ride.

Then start the engine literally. Roll forward about 5 metres. Stop, then repeat.

You’re not proving anything here, and you might feel a bit daft for doing it, so find a place on your own! All you’re doing here is restoring rhythm.

The bike feels bigger when your certainty is smaller.

Certainty returns through repetition.

If you’re currently navigating that uneasy return to riding, I wrote a practical step-by-step confidence reset guide here: https://motorcycleforlife.gumroad.com/l/rzwrtx

It breaks down exactly how to rebuild calm control without forcing it.

Because intimidation fades, familiarity returns, and you are always far more capable than the first glance suggests.

And quietly (very quietly) a question surfaces:

“Why do I feel nervous getting back on?”

If you haven’t ridden for months, that flicker of hesitation is not weakness. It’s not a loss of ability. And it certainly doesn’t mean you’re “not cut out for this.”

It means your brain has done what it always does after a break: it has forgotten the rhythm.

Why Riding After Winter Feels Different

When you haven’t ridden for three, four or five months, several things change:

Your muscle memory dulls slightly

Your visual scanning habits slow

Your road awareness softens

Your body forgets the physical sensations

Your confidence loses its repetition

Confidence in riding is not a personality trait. It’s a pattern built through repetition.

When repetition pauses, confidence pauses too.

That doesn’t mean it’s gone. It just means it needs reactivating.

The Real Reason Fear Creeps In

Most riders think the fear is about skill.

It isn’t.

It’s about uncertainty.

Your brain doesn’t like unknowns. After winter, everything feels slightly unfamiliar again; the throttle response, the lean angle, the traffic awareness, even the sound of the engine beneath you.

The solution isn’t to “push through.”

It’s to reduce uncertainty.

How to Get Back on Your Motorbike After Winter — Without Forcing It

The mistake many riders make is treating their first ride of the season like a normal ride.

It isn’t.

It’s a recalibration ride.

Here’s what works better:

1. Control the Environment

Choose daylight.
Choose dry roads.
Choose a familiar local loop.
Remove pressure.

You are not proving anything on your first ride back.

2. Rebuild Trust in the Machine

Walk around the bike.
Check tyres and brakes.
Sit on it before starting.
Let it idle for a minute.

Familiarity reduces tension.

3. Reset Your Nervous System

Before you move, take two minutes.

Slow breathing.
Drop your shoulders.
Loosen your grip.

Visualise only the first 200 metres (not the entire ride.)

Your brain only needs to solve the next small step.

4. Make It Short

Five minutes.
No overtakes.
No pushing pace.

The goal is completion, not performance.

5. Debrief the Ride

After you park, ask yourself:

What felt stable?

What didn’t go wrong?

What was easier than I expected?

This is where confidence rebuilds.

Small wins compound.

You Are Not the Only One

Scroll any motorcycle forum or Reddit thread in early spring and you’ll see it:

“I feel weird riding again.” “Lost my confidence.” “Is this normal?”

Yes. It’s normal.

Even experienced riders feel it.

They just don’t always say it out loud.

A Structured Reset Can Change Everything

Because I’ve seen this pattern every year (and felt it myself,) I created a simple 10-minute Rider Reset Checklist that guides you through this exact process before your first ride.

It isn’t motivational fluff.
It’s a structured sequence you can follow.

A calm reset before you move the bike.

If you’d like something printable and practical to use before your first ride back, you can find it here:

👉 The 10-Minute Confidence Reset Checklist

And if you want a deeper read on the emotional side of returning to riding, Back On The Bike explores the identity shift that happens when we step back into the saddle after time away.

But start simple.

Start steady.

Your confidence hasn’t disappeared.

It’s just waiting for repetition.

Ride calm. Ride controlled. Ride again.

Michelle

Not dramatic. Not cinematic. Just relentless.

Grey skies over the UK that never quite lift. Roads slick with a thin sheen of something and rainwater. Mud dragged from fields onto corners you used to lean through without thinking. Salt crusting the edges of everything. Flood warnings flashing on the local news.

You check the weather app again.
Rain.
You check it tomorrow.
More rain.

At some point, without meaning to, you stop checking.

For many riders here this year, it hasn’t just been cold — it’s been wet. And there’s something about persistent rain that does more than soak your gloves. It seeps into your mood.

And quietly, into your identity.

The Guilt of Not Riding
There’s a voice many of us don’t admit to hearing.
“Real riders ride all year.”
“You’re going soft.”
“If you loved it enough, you’d just get on with it.”

Argh!!!

But here’s the truth no one says loudly enough:

Riding in constant rain isn’t a badge of honour. It’s a choice — and sometimes not a sensible one.

Winter riding in the UK isn’t just about cold hands and fogged visors. It’s about diesel rainbows on roundabouts. It’s about white lines that feel like ice. It’s about visibility that drops without warning. It’s about drivers who haven’t seen a bike for weeks and they forget we exist.

Choosing not to ride in those conditions doesn’t make you less committed.
It actually makes you measured.
And yet, when weeks pass and the bike stays parked, something stirs.

You really miss it.
You question yourself.
You wonder if you’re slipping away from something important. Something you might forget how to do.

That’s the part that deserves attention.

Rain Is More Than Weather
Endless rain does something subtle to the psyche.

It reduces light.
It reduces movement.
It reduces spontaneity.

It keeps you inside more than you’d like or at the shops. It shortens days and stretches evenings of thumb fiddling. It turns a quick ride into a logistical nightmare of negotiations involving waterproofs, heated grips, drying gear and the real risk of coming home more tense than when you left.

Over time, it’s going to chip away at you.

You start to feel slightly disconnected from the version of yourself that rides freely. Remember 2025? That was ages ago. It’s unsettling. Especially if riding isn’t just a hobby for you and especially if it’s how you clear your head.

How you regulate your stress.
How you remember who you are.

When the rain won’t stop, it can feel like that part of you is suspended.

You Are Still a Rider
Let’s say this clearly.
You are still a rider — even when the bike is locked away with the battery off.

Riding isn’t measured in mileage. It isn’t proven through hardship. It isn’t validated by how miserable the conditions are. It’s a relationship.

And like all relationships, it moves through seasons. Up.and down. High and low.

There is no shame in protecting your safety. There is no weakness in choosing warm and dry over drowned rat. So don’t beat yourself up.

Identity isn’t erased by caution.

If You Do Ride in the Rain

Some of you will ride anyway.
And that’s fine too and if you do, let it be on slightly different terms. Shorter rides. Lower expectations. No proving anything.

Not every winter ride has to be heroic. Sometimes it’s enough to ride for twenty minutes and come home satisfied that you stayed connected even for a shorter time than you’d like.

The Season Will Turn. I promise!
Here’s something winter makes us forget too quickly. Roads will get drier and the days, longer.

There will come a morning when you step outside and feel it — that subtle shift in the air. Not warm yet. But different.
And when that day comes, you’ll just put your lid back on.

The confidence may not flood back instantly. That’s okay. It never really does. It returns quietly. Mile by mile.
This long, wet winter hasn’t taken anything from you. You’ve just gotta be patient.

If this season has felt heavier than usual, you’re not alone. We’ve all felt it too.

So, if this long, dark and pretty awful winter has left you feeling slightly hesitant about the first ride back, I’ve written a short companion guide called Back on the Bike: it’s a calm, honest reflection from me on rebuilding confidence after time away from the road.

It’s not technical or bravado-led. Just reassurance, perspective and a gentle return to riding on your own terms.

You can find it on Gumroad here: https://motorcycleforlife.gumroad.com/l/Backonthebike

Ride safe my friends 🙏

When the Rain Won’t Stop: What a Long Wet Winter Does to a Rider was originally published in Full Throttle Full Heart on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

It’s not really the first warm day.
It’s not even the first bike meet.
It’s not even our first ride out.

It’s the moment we realise we want to get out there and ride again — but for some of us, we might not feel quite ready yet.

I’ve noticed this over the years, both in myself and in other riders. It’s rarely dramatic. No big fear. No clear reason.

Just a soft hesitation that sits somewhere behind your rib cage. We don’t often talk about it as bikers; that slight unease.

Instead, our social media feeds brim with confidence. Ride-outs planned weeks in advance.

Photos of sunshine and smiling faces from last season to tempt us out. A collective sense that the season has begun, weeks before it has — and we should be right there with it. Feeling it. Breathing it.

But some of us aren’t. Not quite.

After a miserable winter, after time away, after life has quietly piled up in the background of families, housework,

endless food shopping and riding can feel different. Not harder exactly. Just…well, unfamiliar.

And that unfamiliarity has a way of shaking our confidence, even when nothing is technically wrong.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot recently as well as watching weather apps. You know, about how we treat confidence as something that should return on demand just like that. As if the moment the weather improves, we should step straight back into the rider we were last season. Pah!

Confidence doesn’t work like that.
“Confidence isn’t something you either have or you don’t. It’s a state, not a trait. It responds to familiarity, repetition and trust — and that much required trust takes time to rebuild.”

What makes this harder of course is the pressure we place on ourselves.

Pressure to keep up.

Pressure to say yes before we’re ready. Pressure to pretend everything feels fine!

Pressure tightens the body.
It narrows attention.
It makes riding harder for us, not easier.
Fear, on the other hand, is often much quieter and sits in a corner staring.

Healthy fear isn’t dramatic either. It doesn’t shout and come in with fanfares. It simply asks us to slow down enough to notice what matters and what will likely cause us harm. Experienced riders don’t ride without fear — they ride with it, quietly integrated into their decisions at every corner.

That distinction matters.

Because fear isn’t the thing that holds us back. Oh no. Pressure is.

One of the kindest things a rider can do — especially early in the season — is allow their first rides to be unremarkable. You know the thing: ride a few miles for a coffee. Nothing wild. Short. Familiar. Gentle. Rides that don’t need you to prove anything.

“The first ride back isn’t a test.
It’s a conversation — between you, the bike and the road.
And conversations go better when they’re calm.”

Some of the most confident riders I know are the ones who turn back early. Who choose quiet routes. Early starts. Who end ride ours while they still feel okay.

They’re not riding less well.
They’re riding with discernment and that’s the key and it’s something experience gives us, whether we notice it or not.

There’s also a truth that doesn’t get said often enough, I don’t think: joy doesn’t always return immediately. Sometimes it comes back quietly — in a smooth corner, a familiar stretch of road, the simple relief of being back. A subtle smile that appears slowly underneath the lid.

And sometimes, it can take some of us longer to get there.

That doesn’t mean the love has gone. It means it’s sharing space with other things.

If riding feels different this Spring, that doesn’t mean something is wrong. It means you’re riding with context — with more life behind you than before.

It’s not a loss. You’re just reopening your senses.

I’ve been writing again recently — quietly — about these moments. Not as instruction, and not as even for self motivation, but more as reassurance for riders out there before we face each other on the roads. The kind I’ve needed myself before, and the kind I know many riders carry silently.
So, if you’re easing back into the season, take it gently.

If you’re not ready yet, that’s okay too.
The road isn’t going anywhere.
And when you return — whether tomorrow, next week, or later — you’ll bring with you everything you’ve learned, not everything you fear you’ve lost.

That’s more than enough.

I’ve gathered some of these reflections into a short PDF book called Back on the Bike — written as a calm companion for riders returning after time away. If you’re curious, it’s there. https://motorcycleforlife.gumroad.com/l/Backonthebike

Ride safe my friend 🙏

The Quiet Part of Riding We Don’t Really Talk About was originally published in Full Throttle Full Heart on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

It’s taken me a year to get here.

A whole year since I first threw my leg over a 650cc in Cheltenham, August 2024, full of hope but quickly finding myself feeling dejected and utterly useless. I wasn’t brilliant at handling a big bike — far from it — and that realisation hit hard at only 5 foot something and not hugely built.

In the end, I made the tough decision to step back and take the A1 licence route, limiting myself to 125cc. But so what? For me, it was all about the L plates. I didn’t want to have to go through the CBT route again (which, I might add, by the time I passed my Mod 2, I only had 4 weeks left!)

Looking back, it wasn’t easy to make that call. At the time, it felt like admitting defeat, but it was probably the smartest decision I could have made. Sometimes the bravest step forward is to scale things right back, and that’s ok. There is no shame in it. What I gained was not just confidence, but also the space to actually enjoy the journey rather than dread it.

Finding My Way with Abbey Riders

That’s when Abbey Riders in Swindon came into the picture. From the very beginning, Jess and Kurt showed me patience, encouragement, and unwavering belief. With their guidance, I went from struggling through training days to facing the dreaded Mod 1.

If you’ve been there, you’ll know it feels like mastering a circus act: slaloms, figure-of-eights, controlled stops, and speed exercises. All that’s missing is the point where you have to balance the beach ball on your nose! I have to admit, it took me three attempts to finally crack it, and when I finally walked away from Gloucester test centre with that Mod 1 pass certificate in my hand, I could hardly believe it. I rode home and yes, cried — hugging the tank as I rode like a Grand National jockey on his winning horse.

Here are 3 things I learned to eventually pass my Mod 1:

1. Practice slow control until it feels second nature and you can do it in your sleep. The slalom and figure of eight are about smooth throttle and clutch control, not speed.
2. Look where you want to go. It sounds obvious, but your bike follows your eyes. Don’t stare at cones, look past them. If you look at them, you’re more than likely hit them.
3. Don’t be afraid of failing. I failed twice before passing. Each attempt, I believe, was a lesson that made me a stronger rider for the next time. On the third attempt, I really don’t care whether I passed or not. In fact, I was almost going to give up and go home. That’s the time I passed.

Preparing for Mod 2

With Mod 1 behind me, it was time to face Mod 2. This is where Abbey Riders really come into their own as trainers. Calm, clear, and practical and a lot of fun, they build your confidence bit by bit.

I downloaded an app that showed the possible Swindon test routes, which was a real help (even though I am not entirely sure they were actual routes, but it still helped.) Knowing roughly where you might be taken makes a big difference, and because I already knew Swindon’s roads, that familiarity helped keep the nerves under control. So yes, if you can, take your test somewhere you know anyway.

So, my 3 things for Mod 2? Here we go:

1. Know your highway code inside out. The examiner may ask you anything from pillion advice to basic maintenance. The questions are actually printable from the Gov website — but be prepared for pillion questions, even at A1 licence tests.
2. Get familiar with local roads. If you can, ride around the area where your test will take place. You don’t need to memorise every junction, but confidence comes from familiarity.
3. Keep your observations constant. I really cannot stress this enough! Mirrors every 10–15 seconds, life savers before any change of position and turns, and clear shoulder checks on slowing down, before you move off from traffic lights.

Test Day

The day itself wasn’t kind in the least — wet, windy, and far from the ideal conditions you dream of for test day. I rode the 44 miles from home to the Swindon test centre with my heart in my throat, determined not to let the weather defeat me.

The examiner started by asking three random questions: pillion advice and a couple of general motorcycle maintenance points. Nothing too scary. Then it was time to ride. For around 40 minutes, I followed instructions with the examiner shadowing me from behind.

At one point, I thought I’d blown it. Mannington roundabout in Swindon is a nightmare even on a good day, and matey here decides to approach it in the wrong lane. My heart sank — but I kept calm, corrected myself safely, and found the right lane without looking like a prat. The examiner seemed pleased with my recovery, and I carried on even though I thought I had stuffed up.

I kept reminding myself: mirrors every 15 seconds, life saver checks, and always more than a car’s length gap between me and the vehicle in front. Simple habits that show examiners you’re thinking about safety and even though they don’t give you brownie points, it all adds up.

It felt like the whole thing was over in a flash, and when I was told I’d passed — with six minors — I could hardly believe it. Six silly minors born of nerves, nothing more. Minors that, on the day I did, but in real life? Probably wouldn’t.

What Examiners Really Want

One thing I’ve learned is that examiners don’t expect perfection. They know you’re nervous. What they want to see is a ride that’s comfortable, confident, and above all, safe for you and everyone else on the road. That’s it. Do that, and you’ll pass.

So my last bit of practical advice is: ride like you normally ride when you’re at your safest. Don’t overthink it, don’t try to impress. The examiner isn’t looking for style — they’re looking for safety.

Freedom at Last

Now, with my A1 licence in hand, the world feels bigger. I can finally do the things I’ve always wanted to do on a bike — ride on the motorway, take a pillion, and stretch out further on two wheels.

But the thing I’m most looking forward to? Nodding at learners on the road.

Because here’s the truth: we’ve all been there. We’ve all wobbled through slaloms, stalled at junctions, and sweated over roundabouts. Nodding to an L-plate rider does two important things: it encourages them on their journey, and it reminds us that the biker community is strong, kind, and built on togetherness.

We are not a nuisance on the roads — we are proof that resilience and support carry us through.

So, to Jess, Kurt, and everyone at Abbey Riders: thank you for guiding me through this journey. To all the learners still on the path: keep going.

Your day will come, and when it does, it will be worth every wobble.

I still remember the first time I attempted to lean into a corner as tight as I could, it felt like gravity itself had shifted — was I going to fall off? My nerves sang, my life flashed before my eyes, my knuckles whitened on the grips, and then — when I powered as much as a 125cc can, out of the bend — the sky seemed to open above me. In that instant, every worry fell away. The stresses of deadlines, work, expectations, and everyday routines vanished in the slipstream, leaving only the raw, unfiltered joy of riding and motorcycle freedom.

Yet with that adrenaline rush comes a profound vulnerability — heck! Doesn’t it just!? Every bend hides risk: the careless car around the blind crest, the sudden pothole, the slick patch of gravel or farmyard residue. Every fellow road-user may not see you — in fact, we know full well that much of the time we are invisible.

A split-second glance in the wrong direction, and a lifetime can change. In that precious space between exhilaration and danger lies our shared responsibility: to ride with heart, to honour motorcycle safety, and to demand kindly from car drivers the respect all bikers deserve.

From my first wobbly 125cc learner expeditions from Spring 2024 when my heart pounded as loudly as the engine — to the trips now where I push my bike to the limit wanting more than it could ever possibly give, I still don’t look back. Each ride teaches me invaluable riding tips: how to read the camber on a little-used backroad, gauge a crosswind on a dodgy bridge and trust muscle memory when a hazard appears without warning.

But I didn’t get here alone. My biker hubby, is my rock in the mirror, my co-pilot, and my fiercest protector. He doesn’t know this but he has taught me to face the experience in a downpour — when spray off the tarmac can blind even the most seasoned rider — to trust my instincts on gravel, and, most importantly, to never ride past my limits.

On epic road trips he stations himself in my mirror always protective. He’s the first to help me understand the importance of the chain, the one who checks my headlights and signals before I set off. The one who has my back.

When my confidence falters — perhaps after a near-miss with a distracted motorist — he reminds me why we ride even without saying anything: for the taste of pure freedom, the wind in our faces, and the friendships we forge on two wheels.

So, today, I’m calling every rider — learner, returner, and lifelong enthusiast — to transform our passion into a movement for safer roads and stronger community:

🏍️ Ride Boldly, Ride Safely:
Sharpen your skills with defensive riding courses, invest in premium motorcycle gear, and embrace each journey with mindful courage. Double-check kit — helmet fit, jacket zips, boots, gloves — because every detail matters when life rests on your shoulders.

🤝 Build Our Brotherhood & Sisterhood:
Nod to every rider you pass, stop, have a brew and talk to each other, and support new riders with group rides and mentorship. Take part in the Bike&Brew event.

Remember: our bond on the open road is our greatest strength.

🚗 Cultivate Mutual Respect:
Other road users need to understand our vulnerability on the roads. Visibility isn’t just headlight beams — it’s a shared understanding that we’re people with families, friends, loved ones, hopes and dreams, and a love for two-wheeled exploration.

🛣️ Advocate for Better Infrastructure:
I am personally petitioning for the Government for:

A national campaign focused on motorcyclist safety and visibility.
Strengthen driving tests to better educate motorists about motorcycles.
Recognise mental health benefits.
Engage with charities leading this work at community level.

I am aiming to ride from the Forest of Dean to Parliament to personally hand in a letter after 10K signatures have been reached. Sign and ride with me.

📣 Amplify Our Stories:
Journalists, influencers, and anyone who’s ever felt the whisper of wind under their helmet — let’s tell this story together. Share your “world went silent” moment, post your best motorcycle maintenance tips, or write a guest blog on Full Throttle Full Heart. Rewrite the narrative so that motorcycling is celebrated for the joy it brings and honoured for the lives it empowers. It’s in YOUR hands.

Join me, UK charity motorcycling wellbeing charity Make Your MARK and thousands of riders worldwide in carving out safer roads, louder engines of change, mental wellbeing, Motorbiker Acts of Random Kindness and a community that rides with Full Throttle Full Heart. Let’s make every ride count — not just for ourselves, but for the next rider who follows in our tire tracks.

🔗 Read my very personal account of learning to ride and embracing freedom on two wheels in Full Throttle Full Heart:
Book ➡️https://www.fullthrottlefullheart.com/ebook
Safer Roads Petition ➡️ https://petition.parliament.uk/petitions/727687

#FullThrottleFullHeart #MotorcycleSafety #RideSafeRideFree #AdventureRiding #RidingTips #MotorcycleCommunity #RespectTheRide #SafeRoadsNow #TwoWheelsOneHeart #MotorcycleBlog #MakeYourMARK #MotorbikerActsOfRandomKindness #Motorcycling #LearningToRide #MotorcyclePetition #SignAndRide

When the World Goes Silent: Embracing Motorcycle Freedom, Safety & Community was originally published in Full Throttle Full Heart on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.