20’s plenty – My Mod 2 experience

I’d finally passed my Mod 1 motorbike test! Now I needed to focus on all my energy on getting through my Mod 2 so I could finally get my licence.

The date was set for the end of August and I was quietly confident that I would pass. I’d had a lot of instruction in the local area (Enfield) and knew all about the roads to be aware of.

I was still feeling pretty nervous as I was waiting for my name to be called – although I had been lucky with my examiners for my Mod 1, I could still end up with one of the grumpier ones for the one road test. I needn’t have worried though as my examiner was pretty friendly.

After kitting me up with a headset, getting me to read a number plate and asking me a few “show me, tell me” questions we set off.

The first turn I had to make was a right turn out of the test centre, I looked left, right, left and was just about to pull out when I noticed a lorry coming from the left. I’d rolled forward a little bit, but not committed to pulling out yet. “Shit! Did he see that?” I carried on riding and listening to his directions.

Most of the ride continued quite pleasantly. There was an little issue when I was pulling out of a side road onto a narrow road and as soon as I pulled out I had to stop behind a parked car as there was another car coming down the road but apart from this, I felt ok.

We were coming up to the final road before the test centre and I was so glad that the test was nearly over. The test centre was in an industrial estate with a 20mph speed limit. I knew this. My instructor had drummed it into my head so many times before I took the test. I knew what 20 felt like, I’m sure I did. As someone who had issues getting up to speed on the Mod 1, I didn’t feel like speeding was ever something I would get pulled up on.

So imagine my horror when I heard the examiner in my ear “It says 20 Sarah! We’ve only past 6 bloody signs!”

Shit! Shit! Shit! I eased off the throttle but it was too late. A quick glance at the speedo showed that I was going at 26mph. Examiners will usually let you off if you are within ten percent of the speed limit but this was just too much.

I pulled into the parking bay, got off my bike and walked into the centre. I wasn’t feeling too positive.

My instructor came with me into the debrief and the examiner gave me the verdict. “I’m sorry Sarah, but you’ve failed. It was those last 20 seconds as you came in.”

I was gutted! I was so close to passing and I messed up right at the end. All I needed to do was look at the speedo or check in my mirror to see how far behind the examiner was (the examiners won’t break the law so if they are WAY behind you, then you might be going over the limit).

For the next week or so after my failure, all I could think about was the 20 mile speed limit. I was dreading having to retake my test again. Not only was it going to cost me a pretty penny, I was also scared about all the unknowns that could affect me on the day. What if it was pissing down? What if my examiner was a dickhead? What if, what if, what if. I also felt that there was no way I was going to pass on the second go. Now I’m not really superstitious or particularly spiritual but there was something in me which said I was going to pass on my third try.

Mod 2, take 2

So fast forward 10 days and I was at the Enfield test centre once more.

This time, I felt a lot more nervous than I had previously. I think the fact that I had already failed once before, meant that I could fail again. I really wanted to get my licence and that internal pressure was getting to me.

The weather had held out and I was lucky enough to get the same examiner as before. We went through the same pre-test drill and I got out on the road.

Now if the other test was a 9/10, this one was a 4/10!. The whole thing felt a little scrappy and all over the place. At one point I was on a main road and needed to turn right into a side road. I was in the central reservation waiting for the road to clear so I could pass. There were two instances when I contemplated moving but I took my time and didn’t. “Sarah, you need to make this turn.” I’d let too many people through and the examiner wasn’t impressed. This could be classed as undue hesitation so I took the next available turn I could.

That interaction with him made me really nervous. Surely I’d failed.

Thinking that I had failed consumed me and instead of focusing on the test at hand, I admitted defeat. I feel like riding a motorbike is so much more of a mental activity than driving a car is and so, your mood can really affect how you ride. My “fuck it, I failed” attitude didn’t do me any favours when we got to a roundabout which had a never ending stream of traffic coming from the right. Now, I know the highway code and I know you always give way to people coming from your right. I also know that if I was in a car and the traffic was moving as slow as this was, that i would push myself in. So in a bizarre moment when I seemed to take a leave of my senses, this is exactly what I did.

“You don’t push your way in Sarah!” I could tell my examiner was pretty exasperated. He followed me (cos he had to) but it was as though I could feel the disbelief radiating from him. Shortly after that, I got pulled up for undertaking and then I knew that I had failed.

A quick debrief at the test centre told me what I already knew. The examiner didn’t seem to think it was as much of a shit show as I did thought and actually complimented my handling of the bike. It was the issues following the highway code he had more of a problem with. And to top it all off, the hesitation that had got me feeling like I had failed in the first place, that was just classed as a minor! So all that worrying had been for nothing.

I booked the test for another day and wallowed in my self pity for a while.