It was a cold March day back in the mid-90s when I turned up, clad in jeans and docs, for my CBT, to be taken on a CG125 (makes the sign of holy pushrods).  There were 7 others out that day and I have forgotten every detail of each one of them ... except for Eddie, who will live with me until my dying day.

Eddie looked like a geek - he was ugly, with big ears, crooked teeth and a face full of zits and was probably in his early 20s.  The story was that he didn't drive a car, so had decided to buy himself a bike to get to work on, but had to get through his CBT before he could venture out on the road.

To this end he had wandered into CSM on Westgate road and forked out about £100 for their guaranteed pass CBT ... they would provide a bike and let you keep on redoing the CBT training until you passed the test.  Eddie had then wandered across the road to the Honda dealers and bought himself a brand new bike to learn on.

Apparently the bike salesman had, afterwards, gone across to CSM and told them "I've just had one of your pupils in here and I could have sold him _anything_, he didn't have a clue".

What Eddie had actually bought was a pink Honda 50cc trailie, as I mentioned it was brand new and this was the bike that he was going to take his CBT on and then ride to work every day.

Now, for those who came to biking before the CBT arrived I should tell you a little bit about how it works.  You turn up at a large car-park, or somesuch, and spend the best part of a day learning about the basic bike controls, weaving around lines of cones, practicing emergency stops and negotiating pretend junctions.  At the end of the day,  providing you can stay on the bike most of the time, you are taken out on the road under the watchful eye of an instructor.  You ride 2 students to 1 instructor with one of the students riding up front, then the instructor and then the other student.  Halfway through the road ride the two students swap places so that the instructor gets to see both of them do their stuff.  The instructor has a microphone in his helmet and the students have ear-pieces ... what could be simpler?

Anyway, the day I did my CBT was Eddie's *seventh* attempt at it and, to date, he had never made it on to the road at the end, always being judged too much of a liability.  It didn't take much of the day to see why this was ... Eddie did not have a clue - he didn't understand the bike controls, he couldn't balance, he forgot instructions almost instantly, but he just grinned inanely through it all.

One little incident sticks with me; we were all pottering round cones when the instructor called us across to have a chat.  We all rode across to him and stopped, but Eddie stopped and stalled.  The instructor calmly walked around Eddie's bike and looked at the clocks.  "Eddie," he said, "this bike has done 23 miles - they've *all* been in this car park and you *still* don't know you have to pull the fucking clutch in when you stop!".  Oh, we laughed.

At the end of the car-park part of the day the instructor lined us all up, to tell us who was going out on the road.  He went along the whole line saying things along the lines of "yes, you're fine" until he got to Eddie at the end.  "So, Eddie," he said, "what do you think?".  I was suddenly struck by just how many times before Eddie had been on this spot.  "Maybe next time?" volunteered Eddie, obviously resigned to his eighth CBT.  Our instructor, however, was obviously on the happy tablets that day - "Nah, fuck it, you're getting better.  Let's give you a try on the road, eh?"

Eddie looked over the moon as the instructor split us into pairs for the road ride.  He took me aside and said - "Look, you seem to be fairly confident and I'm happy you can take care of yourself if you're behind me. Do you mind coming out with Eddie and I'll let him go at the front so I can see what he's doing?".  To this day I am grateful that I got to see Eddie's first ever road ride ... oh yes.

The three of us set off onto the road, with Eddie leading.  It was obvious right from the off that Eddie wasn't a driver because at every junction he would wait until there was nothing in sight before he moved off.  Nothing wrong with this for a CBT though, which is really just a test that you're safe on the road.  It all went pair shaped when we got to Blaydon (as in "The Blaydon Races") roundabout.  This is a big, busy roundabout and it was 4:30ish on a Friday afternoon, so there was a lot of traffic about.  The instructors plan was to take us straight across the roundabout onto a dual-carriageway and then straight off the dual carriageway onto a slip road.  So he tells Eddie "OK, straight across the roundabout when it's clear, keep looking to the right because that's where you're danger is coming from".

So, we waited for Eddie to go ... and waited ... and waited ... eventually every car in the Newcastle area was at least 1 miles from the roundabout, the instructor shouted "Go Eddie! Go!" and with a whiff of smoke and the buzz of a hyperactive hairdryer Eddie, the instructor and myself launched ourselves onto the left hand lane of the roundabout ... and watched in dismay as Eddie turned right.

The instructor was now lost - did he let Eddie go off by himself or did he follow him and force me to turn right from the left hand lane of this busy roundabout?  He plumped for the latter, had a good look round for traffic and followed Eddie off to the right with me in tow.

He then launched the recovery plan - "Right Eddie," his voice came over the intercom, "you're coming to a mini-roundabout, just go straight across it". So we stopped at the mini-roundabout and waited, waited, waited.  Eventually it was clear, Eddie's hairdryer engine wailed as he zoomed on to the mini-roundabout and turned right again!

The instructor and I followed.

Except now we're going up a _very_ steep hill.

Eddie's never ridden up hill before.

Eddie doesn't really understand gears, he just knows that he starts in first and keeps changing up.

Eddie's on a 50cc bike.

So Eddie, true to his training, keeps changing up gears ... and getting slower.

We make the half-ways point up the hill - I'm in 1st and starting to slip the clutch to keep going ... Eddie goes for (I think) fourth at walking pace.

His little pink bike just comes to a complete stop and unceremoniously falls over leftwards, landing Eddie on the pavement.

The instructor, his shoulders shaking with laughter, stops, makes sure Eddie's OK, picks up his bike, puts it on the stand, removes the keys and says "Wait here, Eddie, I'll come and collect you in the van."

And so ended Eddie's 7th CBT and first ever bike journey on the road.

For what it's worth that view of Eddie sitting forlornly on the pavement next to his little pink bike was the last time I ever saw him.  I don't know what became of him after that, whether he ever achieved his dream of riding his 50 to work and back every day.

Although Eddie never knew it, he did me a big favour that day - my mum, who hates bikes with a passion, stopped speaking to me when I started learning to ride and telling her the tale of Eddie made her laugh and got us back on speaking terms.  For that and for all of the other people who've had a laugh at Eddie's story I sincerely hope that he did eventually pass his CBT and that no harm ever came to him on the road.

If you're out there Eddie - good luck to you mate.