I can remember my CBT (Compulsory Basic Training) day quite well; it was in the middle of a chilly winter in December. Most of the morning was spent freezing my bollocks off listening to an instructor waffle between drags on his cigarette – he seemed to be immune to the cold, smug pillock. Riding the Honda CG125 was a challenge. Starting and stopping was fine, but when it came to changing up to second, changing down again before turning around (u-turn fashion) and repeating ...