On Two Wheels Part 2: Beyond the CBT

Gone was Pete's gravelly voice in my ear, providing timely reminders when indicators remained un-cancelled and glances over the shoulder were not forthcoming.

Instead there was only silence. For those who have passed a driving test, the experience was similar to going out in a car for the first time on your own.

It was daunting, not least because of my knowledge of the capital's packed roads and the insane driving often witnessed.

But during the course of my CBT I had begun to appreciate, the feel of riding a scooter is very comforting.

The power and acceleration caused by the smooth twist of a wrist is instant and satisfying and, like anything, the more you ride, the better it feels and the more confident you become.

So, after nearly a day in the saddle, my trip home to Haringey was relatively trouble free. I remembered observation, signal, position, speed, observation and manoeuvre. All good, and most of the time I was putting this mantra into practice.

But, rather than just jump into rush-hour traffic, I decided I needed at least a week riding around London before unleashing myself on the commuting masses.

And so it began. I started practising.

I rode across London, up Kilburn High Road, over Tower Bridge, to the Wharf and back, to Earl's Court and back, through the centre of the City to Westminster and around quiet backstreets in Crouch End over speed hump after speed hump, turning left, turning right, sometimes even remembering to cancel my indicator.

So far, a number things strike me about life on two wheels. Firstly, it is much more work than driving a car.

You have to anticipate everything, assume everyone is going to pull out in front of you, ignore you, not see you, undertake you or just generally push you around.

Secondly, you have to look at everything all the time, to know what's behind you, what's in your blind spots and what's coming up at the junction ahead, because almost everything on the road is more deadly to you on a scooter than you are to it.

That said, riding is also intensely enjoyable. It takes more concentration than driving or falling into a packed Tube carriage, but you feel so much more alive afterwards.

The world is more immediate you can actually hear it, albeit muffled through your helmet, smell it, feel it and taste it rather than being isolated in a sterile metal box.
While I accept this may not be to everyone's taste, I think it's miles better than cramming yourself onto sweaty public transport.

I'm also aware that this feeling may not last as riding is still a novelty at the moment and the drudge of the daily commute has yet to set in - I may well be craving the serenity of a car interior or the practical benefits of a trip on the DLR after a few jams.

The Vespa I have on loan has proved itself reliable and easy to handle for the comparative novice. Its controls are straightforward and easy to operate, with the possible exception of the speedo in kmph (mph are written in smaller characters underneath).

I was however delighted to find out that it cost me about £5.60 for a whole tank of petrol. I'll let you know how long that lasts in a future column.