I have greater confidence . . . most importantly, I’m safer

THE driveway of the house I grew up in at 76 Greenock Road, Largs, was rarely devoid of vehicles. In the 1970s there was the Renault 4, a knackered Triumph 2000 estate mouldering in the garage, then a Volvo 240. As the years spun past a Fiat 127 appeared, then an Austin Metro, an MG Metro and Ford Escort estate.

Several decades later I finally have my own driveway, which on the surface sounds ineffably shallow but which for me represents a symbol of relative success. It’s an untypical driveway – a sloping L shape with a vast amount of space at the bottom, behind the garage – which, for the first time since we moved here, is lying empty.

The Saab is undergoing surgery in a bodyshop somewhere in Paisley, the Corrado remains SORNed and her nibs has taken the Bargain (aka the £650 Honda HRV) to her mother’s house in Newcastle.

Moreover, my friend Alan and I dumped five or six tonnes of rubble and general gubbins – the result of howking out a godawful hard-landscaped garden and perimeter fence over the past two years – into a skip last weekend and the skip has gone wherever skips go, freeing up a wad of space.

Having a clear driveway is – in the words of Kylie Minogue – some kind of bliss, as is the level of motorcycling to which I have seemingly elevated since signing on to the IAM RoadSmart advanced riding scheme.

Through diligent attendance of Wednesday-night runs and showing up for more substantial jaunts (on the first of which, having understood it to be a short ride to kick off the season, we ended up just north of Stranraer) as well as a Saturday morning two weeks ago at Jackton police college, where the Glasgow South group practised slow manoeuvres under a fierce sun, my various observers – volunteers and motorcycling zealots who have achieved expert status – have been increasingly complimentary about my riding.

I have greater confidence (mostly – we all have bad runs). I’m more involved, reacting to the changing circumstances more logically and consistently. I’m quicker. Most importantly, I’m safer.

There’s one major downside, though. And it is this: having been a difficult passenger ever since getting my advanced driving badge, I have become an appalling one.

I’ll give two examples.

On runs around town with her nibs I struggle to zip it and let her drive the way she wants. And she’s a very good driver – safe and courteous. She says I make her nervous when I’m in the car, which clearly isn’t a desirable state of affairs – either for her health or our relationship.

Secondly, Alan and I headed out in his van during a lunch break while filling the aforementioned skip and I was a twitching, anxious mess every time he neglected to indicate or ignored road markings.

The problem is I’ve become hyperaware. It is the yang to the yin of my improved riding abilities. I’m hoping it is not a rubicon but rather a blip experienced by all those who undergo advanced driving or riding training. That aside, there is no better word for how I feel about jumping on the bike than magnificent. The driveway might be empty, but my heart is full.