In a world where we spend a lot of time in the comfort and security of our ‘safety bubble’, also known as the comfort zone, the idea alone of doing “something that scares you” once in a while, really is scary. Often the thought of doing such a thing creeps up on us, to then be swiftly banished to the naughty corner as it induces anxiety in its wake. After all, things are fine in the safety bubble. Contentment is in the safety bubble. Comfort is in the safety bubble. I don’t need to leave my ‘safety bubble’. You’re absolutely right. You don’t have to. But you could…
Now, I’m the sort of person who likes to take a wee risk now and then, but nothing too scary. At least I don’t think of them as too scary. However, I appreciate that risk will mean different things to different people. Whether that’s taking a risk by asking someone out on a date, taking a risk by going off on a travel adventure with no plan, or a risk might mean, for some, taking a step outside the front door. I can promise you one thing for sure. You’ll never get any judgement from me. Risk is different for everyone, as is the safety bubble.
The exodus from my safety bubble, the most recent time, and probably the scariest, came as a surprise as much to me as it did to many of those who know me. I became the proud owner of a motorbike license. Today I’m going to tell you about that journey, and the levels of fear I experienced in the process.
It all started back in the good old days of 2019. My other half, Ade, had decided that he wanted to get his motorbike license. The way it works here in the UK is you need to complete four tests to get the license. You have to do a CBT, known as the Compulsory Basic Training, a theory test (slightly different from the car theory test, so yes, even if you did the theory test to get your car license you still have to do this one), your mod1 test (a short test showing your ability to do slow riding and necessary riding manoeuvres) then your mod2 test (a road ride with an examiner like a driving test).
The CBT usually takes place over one day, although it can be spread over more time. That’s what I did with mine, but I’ll get to that later. Once signed off by an instructor, you can ride a bike on the road with L-plates, but you are restricted by how big a bike you can ride relative to torque, engine size and horsepower. Prospective riders can then choose to gain experience across the term of their CBT, which lasts two years, ticking off each of the tests in your own time as you go.
Back to Ade. Off he was CBT in hand and motorbike purchased, he was out on it all the time. Not going anywhere in specific. Just riding around, town roads, country back lanes, or adventures further afield. He would be gone for hours. I didn’t mind of course, we’ve both got our own interests, but after a while I started to wonder what was it that had him spending more time with the bike than me. I said I didn’t mind but there has to be a balance! He said he couldn’t really explain it, but that I should give it a go. I laughed in his face. Me? On a motorbike? Get a grip. It was in this moment, that a seed was planted.
A lot of to-ing and fro-ing was initiated in the days that followed. To the point I thought ‘sod it. There must be something in it and I want to know and feel what that is.’ And so, the journey began.
My CBT was booked for early March 2020, just before lockdown hit. I had bought my jacket, trousers, boots, gloves, and helmet. I was ready and raring to go. I was also terrified. Terrified.
The first part of day was spent looking at health and safety, bike maintenance, and the rudimentals of riding a motorbike. It was new, and it was scary, but I was glad to be there all the same. However, then we started doing the actual riding of the bike and that’s when things changed. It was terrifying. I could understand what I was being asked to do, but the fear and survival instinct would kick in as soon as I had to turn on the bike. Or do anything aside from ride in a straight line. It felt like I was going to fall and take the bike with me. Or the other way round.
I’m the sort of person that has to drill something repeatedly to ingrain it into my muscle memory to learn a new skill. This was no different. I was learning not only to slow ride, and use clutch control, but also figure of eights, and U-turns. The latter becoming my nemesis. It was A LOT to take in across a couple of hours. When the instructor asked if I felt ready to go out on the road, I admitted to him that no, I wasn’t. I needed to process the skills learned and then come back afresh to get through the second part. Yes, I was disappointed, but I also knew it was the right thing to do.
Lesson to learn – be honest with yourself. When something isn’t working out, or you need more time, or your struggling, there is no shame in saying so. It’s your life journey and your learning experience. Go at the pace that’s right for you.
Two weeks later I returned. Already there was a vast improvement in my ability to ride. I felt more confident and decided it was time to get out on the road for the first time. The best way to describe that experience? Anxiety inducing, adrenaline inciting, survival style fear at its finest.
However, there was something else present. A freedom. Space to breathe. Excitement. Achievement. Of course, that’s the adrenaline talking, but with a green tick awarded, I left the training with my CBT certificate in hand, and a massive smile on my face, and bought my first bike.
Once I got the new bike – I named her Enyo, a Yamaha MT125 – I didn’t go out all that often to begin with. At the time Ade was bikeless so he couldn’t be the crutch that I’d come to depend on. I didn’t have the confidence to fly solo. Yet. However, I pushed myself to get out of that safety bubble, put on my gear, and ride. Even if it was just a short run into town and back. The fear was so real that I’d induce a panic attack before even getting on the bike. That was just getting the gear on! Explaining to Ade how nervous I’d feel, he was supportive and encouraging. He didn’t experience the same fear learning to ride. It came much more natural to him. Me on the other hand… I was stuck in what appeared to be a never-ending cycle of: to get better at riding I must gain confidence / to gain confidence I must get better at riding. All the while my anxiety and fear are screaming in the background, ‘NO. Just pack it in. It’s not for you.’ It’s too hard.
It was hard. But I made the decision not to give up. I think there is a time and place for giving things up and admitting defeat, but this was not one of those times. I started going out on my own more, taking the bike on longer trips, and even found an empty car park to practise my slow manoeuvres in preparation for my mod 1 and 2. There were trials, there were tribulations, there were tears and there were tantrums. It was not easy.
Between March 2020 and July 2021, I racked up over 5000 miles on the bike. Ade and I even went on a road trip to Orkney. It got to the point I would rarely take the car anymore. Then, after two attempts at the mod1 – I failed the first attempt due to putting a foot down on the U-turn (told you it was my nemesis!) – and one attempt at the mod2, I finally achieved my full license, and now able to ride any bike I like! No restrictions! I loved Enyo and I have some amazing memories with her, but sometimes, just sometimes, a little but more speed is needed, for example, a speed that’s more that fifty-six miles per hour.
Now, nearly two years on, and having achieved my full license, I’m in awe. I’ve achieved something that I genuinely, at points, did not think would ever happen. Now, I understand what the fuss is about. It almost sounds ridiculous to say but there is a peace and calm that comes with riding. Nothing else is in my head apart from me, the bike, and the road. Your mind doesn’t and can’t wander the same way in a car journey. You must be reading the road all the time. Be switched on, all the time. And that is one of the many reasons why I love it.
The reason I’m sharing this with you, is for hope and inspiration. I hope that it inspires you to try something new, to take a risk, to face a fear. I’m not saying you go mad or anything, but I believe that there is a benefit to stepping out of the safety bubble occasionally. You’ll more than likely surprise yourself. Plus, you can rest easy, knowing that the bubble isn’t going anywhere. You’re free to return to it whenever you need. So, have a think. Maybe take that baby step, because life is too short, and you never know where it may lead.
Despite the fear inducing challenge that it was, I’m grateful that I stuck with it because I’ve got my big bike now, and there is no turning back.
This has been a SmartPonders.
Thanks for reading.
Steph x
SmartPonders 