Born to be mild

It’s a good measure of how busy I’ve been these past few days that I’ve only just managed to write up four days of advent calendar window “openings”. Saturday consisted of an especially fevered dash: no rest after Thursday’s work do, as I had to get up at a little after 5am to guarantee getting to Cowley in time to complete my Compulsory Basic Training. For those who’ve never need to concern themselves with this sort of nonsense, the CBT is the only main requirement for using a moped or small motorcycle on the road. That’s right: you can drive a low-cc motorcycle with no more training than the day’s worth that constitutes the CBT. It’s no surprise that so many young motorcyclists end up as savoury chevron jam.

But, on the advice of Infinitarian among others, I’ve decided to get a moped, which at least has its speed artificially restricted to (in principle) under 50kph, and which felt on the day something like a normal pedal cycle with a bit more visibility, better road presence, and the oomph to reach the speed limit. And by the end of the day I was certainly in a better state to actually venture onto the roads than my co-trainees, especially the one that jumped a red light during the end-of-the-day venturing onto the Crown’s highways. He still passed. I say: he still passed.

Whether or not I get a moped before the weather picks up (or even before the clocks go back) is another matter. While there are at least two in Witney that I have my eye on, without actually owning a moped it’s going to be difficult to get into the town centre during the day to buy it; there’s insurance to consider and all the safety gear to buy; and I only have these next five days before a visit from the in-laws and the Christmas–New Year trip to Spain. Still, at least I can in principle make a high-pitched whining noise now. I mean, without K’s help.

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