On Two Wheels Part 1: The CBT

So I never really considered an alternative. Public transport in the capital is, if not pleasant or comfortable, at least relatively cheap and reasonably efficient.

But after riding a three-wheeled scooter (the 400cc MP3) you can operate legally on a car licence at the Canary Wharf Motorexpo earlier this year, I thought I might, at some point, try the Third Way.

So, when scooter manufacturer Piaggio got in touch, offered me the chance to do my Compulsory Basic Training (CBT) coupled with the loan of a Vespa, so I could write about my conversion from Tube cattle to knight of the road, I jumped at the chance.

And that's how I found myself standing outside a scooter dealership in Dalston very early in the morning, clutching a shiny new helmet and my driving licence.

I was nervous. I had never ridden a two-wheeled anything apart from a bicycle and I hadn't ridden one of those for several years.

I was ushered in to join three other trainees. We exchanged pleasantries, bonded a little, bantered and tried, with varying degrees of success to forget our obvious apprehension.

Then our instructor, Pete, appeared. A grizzled, hardened biker, he did his best instil a degree of fear in us before taking us out to pootle about in a car park.

Quite simply, he was brilliant. His thinly veiled contempt for a system that lets almost complete novices out on the roads, albeit with L plates, after a day's training was, I suspect, well justified.

In a car you're surrounded by big, comforting walls of metal, and often, when learning driving a dual-control car that our teacher can stop if necessary.

On a scooter, there's no protection, no instructor to grab the wheel or hit the brakes. There's just you and if you get it wrong, as Pete was keen to impress upon us, "there's no grey area".

Suffice to say, I was rubbish when I first climbed onto one of the 50cc Hondas used for training in one of Dalston's least attractive car parks.

Gone was the suave scooterist, smoothly negotiating complex junctions that I had in my head.

Sadly, he was replaced by a bumbling fool who had borrowed a sense of balance from an octogenerian on a penny farthing.

But I kind of got the hang of it, and after several false starts on the U-turn and a couple of abortive junction simulations, I'd just about done enough to convince Pete to take me out on the road for the final part of the CBT.

Radio links in place, we left and it all started clicking into place. With Pete behind me watching my every move and fellow trainee Nixon behind him we stuck to quiet back roads.

After every turn, junction and manouvre Pete provided a stream of criticism reminding me what I had forgotten to do - cancel signals, take a last life-saving look before turning, positioning my scooter correctly.

But after two hours, the stream slowly turned into a dribble as Nixon and I began to improve and get a feel for the task in hand.

By the end we were negotiating junctions, traffic lights, roundabouts and heavy traffic in the heart of the City and Pete, satisfied, took us back to Dalston before informing us we'd done enough to get the certificate.

I was of course delighted, but by that time I'd been on the road long enough to realise that getting your CBT in no way qualifies you to ride safely on the road.

In order to bed-in all the advice, the acronymns and the good habits learnt on the day it's clearly necessary to spend a great deal of time riding and learning.

So I've decided to give myself a little time.

Over the next week I'll be heading out on the Vespa only on training rides before tacking the commute to the Wharf.

- Column in association with Vespa. Go to uk.vespa.com