Le Petit Wheelie

Despite being named after a former motorcycling world champion (Gardner) and growing up surrounded by bikes — obsessed with the idea of one day having my own — life, as it so often does, got in the way. It wasn't until after lockdown that I finally set out to get my motorbike license. Maybe the name had been working its magic all along because, against all odds (especially considering my driving test history and how long it took to finish my degree), I passed everything first time.

A few months later, I found myself stood in a Yamaha dealership in Twickenham, staring at what would become my first — and still only — motorbike: my XSR900, Bobbi. After passing my test in November 2021, I hadn't ridden a bike in over three months and riding her home that day was one of only two short rides before setting off on what would become a baptism of fire — the annual family trip to the Le Mans MotoGP.

With a rucksack on my back, saddlebag strapped down, and nerves jangling, we headed to Dover (back when we still used that ferry port). That journey would be the first time I ticked off a lot of riding milestones: riding in the dark, boarding a ferry on two wheels — a whole different challenge when you're not the biggest fan of ships (I'll explain when you join us on a tour... it's a bit irrational, but it's a story nonetheless) — riding as part of a group, and most daunting of all, riding abroad for the first time. I'd ridden mopeds around Southeast Asia before, but let's be honest... riding a 50cc through chaotic streets where the rules of the road are more of a suggestion doesn't quite compare to European road trips on Bobbi.

Thankfully, Kev was aware of how daunting all of this was for me and took each of my concerns into account when planning the trip. One of the first things he did — without making a big deal of it — was organise our ferry crossing for the following morning. That small adjustment made a huge difference. Instead of riding all the way to the ferry port, boarding, and then hitting unfamiliar French roads in the dark, we stayed overnight near the port. It gave me the chance to settle into the journey, get a good night's sleep, and face the next day with a fresh head — something I definitely needed!

That kind of attention to detail carried on throughout the tour. Kev was always on hand to offer advice, never patronising — just quietly making sure I felt comfortable and confident every step of the way. Whether it was letting me ride at my own pace, giving little tips over coffee stops, or reassuring me that every rider starts out feeling exactly the same, it made all the difference. What could have been an overwhelming trip ended up being one of the best experiences of my life — one that gave me the confidence to keep exploring on two wheels.

One of the moments that sticks with me from that trip — and still makes me chuckle — was boarding the ferry. Growing up and learning to ride in Cambridgeshire, I’d never really had to deal with hills. Hill starts just weren't something I'd given much thought.

Kev, always one step ahead, must have sensed the anticipation building because he gave me a few quiet pointers before we set off. Nothing patronising — just enough to settle the nerves without making me feel daft for worrying about something so small. All was going well... until a car further up the ramp decided to stop, forcing everyone to come to a halt. First attempt to get going — stalled it. Second attempt — determined not to do the same — I might have slightly overcompensated and popped what I like to call a wheelie. In reality, the front wheel probably barely lifted off the ground... but in my head, I was ascending that ramp like Valentino Rossi celebrating a race win.

I styled it out though — at least that's what I'm telling myself. The French ferry attendant just gave me a classic eye roll, flapped his hand for me to slow down, and carried on like he'd seen it all before. Kev? Didn't even mention it — just a quiet thumbs up once we were parked up on the boat. Those little moments of reassurance made all the difference, turning what could have been a stressful experience into something I now look back on and laugh.

That first trip showed me that touring isn't about riding the furthest or the fastest — it's about building confidence, sharing experiences, and having a laugh along the way. Every rider starts somewhere, and I know first-hand how those little moments of reassurance can turn nerves into confidence and worries into memories you'll laugh about for years to come.

Whether it's your first trip abroad or you're just looking for a friendly group to ride with, these tours are about enjoying the journey at your own pace — with no pressure, no egos... and if you're lucky, maybe even your own little Le Petit Wheelie™ moment along the way.

Above: Thumbs up and ready to head to the ferry.
Left: Ready and raring to go to the track… To watch racing of course!

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