DIARY - Wednesday 10th October 2007 It is very rare that someone, never having ridden a motorcycle before and having just done their CBT on a 125cc bike, can get on a 500cc and ride it with any degree of clutch/accelerator control. What usually happens is we take the trainee out for a day, riding the Honda CG125's up and down dale through town and country, in other words, practising. Some people are quicker than others to raise their skills but the format for the rides take in a variety of roads and sometimes surfaces, tight U turns; hill starts, U turns on hills, hairpin and sweeping bends, a mixture of A and B roads and even the odd unclassified. Dave was progressing well, it was his second day on the 125 and I was fast running out of interesting routes to challenge his ever increasing skills. Now I don't DO fords. Not since I sat on my derriere, waist deep in cold muddy water one November day, 30 miles from home a few years ago. Anybody who knows me will confirm that I would rather ride miles round the countryside than go through a ford. However this little 225cc Yamaha Serow does things for my confidence that the 650GS could never do. I can get both feet flat on the floor, I can pick it up if necessary, I can kick start it if I stand on a pile of bricks, altogether it is a wonderful piece of machinery that gets a big thumbs up from a vertically challenged woman. So what on earth was I thinking of when I saw the sign 'Unsuitable for motor vehicles' 'Ford'. 'Hey, I've never been down this road before' I said to Dave, 'lets have a look eh?' He looked doubtful but went down the lane first, coming to a dead stop at the edge of the wide stretch of water. 'It looks very deep' he said. 'Nah' replies me and I can distinctly remember thinking 'how can it be deep, there isn't a river here, it's only the outflow from the lake. Now it may be years since I last saw the true colour of my hair so we shall have to say this is a brunette having a blonde moment but I know never to go across a ford without walking it first, see how deep it is, whether there are any rocks in it or could it be slippy? What the hell possessed me to say in a confident way - 'look I'll go first - my exhaust is higher up than yours' and then blithely set off, straight into the water, eyes on the far bank. It was deep. It was rocky. It was all my nightmares run into one. I cut off an agonized squeal, even in the throes of panic I was conscious the vox operated radio was still operating. Stay cool girl, pretend you know what your doing, keep the throttle open don't touch the brake, keep going, look where you're going... I can still picture Dave, rolling around on the floor, laughing so much his sides hurt as I hit a submerged rock, put my foot down to stop overbalancing and the water rushing up my trouser leg and down into my goretex lined boots. I can confirm that Daytona boots are truly waterproof, they hold half a gallon. It is very hard to appear cool and composed wringing your socks out on the far side but there was absolutely no way I was riding back through that - and Dave had no hesitation at all in riding his bike over the foot bridge to join me. What is it they say? Never put your bike anywhere your brain hasn't been 5 seconds earlier?