You know that feeling you get when the adrenaline is flying around the blood stream at a rate of knots? That feeling of not being able to focus, being able to sit down and relax. I’m waiting for that parasympathetic system to kick in.
It’s Module 1 bike test day (again)
It’s an hour ride to the test centre, I’m calm, collected and don’t do anything stupid. In fact, I’m feeling like a rider. I manage to keep up with the instructor and don’t get lost. But as I see the centre in sight, the nerves jump like someone started them with an electrical voltage of immense proportions.
We’re early, so Steve, my instructor for the past couple of weeks, recommends a bit of emergency stop practice. This involves U-turns. I’m feeling frazzled, neither goes well, and I announce I need a break. We go in, but waiting is almost as bad. But I’ve learned a new trick. I recommend it. It takes a minute, but the effect is amazing. I’m using it to associate being on the bike with deep relaxation instead of sheer terror.
The wait gets to me and I have to resort to it several times. In between, a couple of familiar faces get me laughing at their stupid jokes. The examiner’s in a good mood and very encouraging.
Slow manoeuvres go well. I do the round for the emergency stop. It goes well except I hit 45 instead of 50 kph. As nothing else goes wrong, I’m allowed a second attempt. But I’ve learned from the experience and know how to handle the bend. Attempt two – 49 kph! I’m told it’s good enough. I’m set up for the last manoeuvre and realise I’m actually close to passing. It’s the same again, but swerving an obstacle. I go around, and again, it goes well, except I only make 45 kph. The examiner comments that I’m enjoying myself too much. It would make one heck of a training ground, if only the schools had such spiffy pads.
So, last go and if I nail it, I could pass. I take my time coming up to the bend, I build up speed smoothly, but comfortably, I straighten up and give that throttle all it’s got. I don’t hit any bollards, it felt right. I control the stop. I look at the examiner hopefully.
“I’ll open the gates and you park her up.”
“Well, did I do it?”
“You’ve got to park up yet – do as you’re told!”
“You’re so mean!”
I park her up.
There’s another bike school there. One of the lads had just passed his module 1 and the other was waiting to do his mod 2 with the instructor. I got a clap on the back.
“Looked good out there!”
I cross my fingers.
You enter an office. It’s like being in court waiting for your sentence. Your instructor comes in with you. I do as I’m told and sit down, even though I was jangling in suspense.
“I’m pleased to say, this time…”
I whoop, jump about, give my instructor a hug.
You’d think I just got my license. But nope – we have Mod two to go.
And the speed on the last manoeuvre?
So anyway, after putting all those fumes into the air, let’s get back to waste reduction.
Junk mail. How much of it do you get? And how much of it do you open? Ours always goes straight to the shredder. It’s something that really annoys me. So today, I’m going to give you a couple of links – that provide some tips on reducing unwanted junk mail. I’ve only covered a few English speaking countries, so apologise in advance if that’s not you:
I’m hoping our letter box is lighter now. Let me know if it works for you!