Why those wanting to improve behind the wheel may not be the best people to put words on a page.

I've never suffered from stage fright. I've stood up and talked/presented/shouted in front of all sorts of people, and I'm lucky enough to have worked alongside people I'd happily refer as my idols, but without becoming a complete star-struck mess. That is, until you put me on a bike...

Let me go back a little. In a previous life I was a writer and photographer for A Large Mountain Bike mag. I was freelance, travelled round to events, was constantly on the phone to people in the industry, and sniffing out leads on web forums. I was lucky that in my particular field of expertise - biketrials, think Dougie Lampkin with pedals - not a lot of other people were working in that niche, and I had access to most people and companies in that scene.

I got bikes to test of course, which is immense fun. A couple of thousands of pounds worth of brand new trials technology would arrive for me to ride for a few weeks, and then I'd have to write about it. At one point I'd ridden every single bike available on the market in the UK. I knew, and could feel, the nuance differences from one bike to the next, and put it into words. The problem was that I never really achieved a notable level of skill, and at the same time most of the people I knew were riders competing at the highest level in the UK and internationally. I took comfort in the fact that I was good at what I did – finding stories, putting things into words in a hopefully entertaining way, and taking pictures – but I could never ride in their company because of how I felt about my ability.

The worst it became was when I was doing a day of commentary for Animal and Martyn Ashton. Martyn is really one of the men who kicked off the trials world in the UK, and inspired me to ride in the first place. On top of that he’s also one of the nicest people you could ever meet. In between shows we were just shooting the breeze, and I mentioned a particular move he did that I could never nail, so he jumped up, handed me his bike, and proceeded to show me.

See, lovely, lovely man.

Except I was overwhelmed with the situation, and made a couple of half-hearted attempts before handing the bike back and muttering something about practising when I get home.

Back in the car world, half an hour behind the wheel of a 911 at Silverstone brought back to me just how difficult it is to write about an experience, a feeling, from behind the wheel. It also showed how good both the writing and driving skills are from the likes of Dickie Meaden, Chris Harris and Jethro Bovingdon as my brain tried to keep up with the experience while my hands and feet made a complete horlicks when the tyres were squealing. I’d love to go back to writing, and I’d love to share my insights with all things cars, but not because I want to go travelling all over the world to play in fresh metal (nice though that is), but because I miss playing with words.

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