Humpty Dumpty Goes Off-Road — My First Desert Training, Falls and All

While editing this episode I noticed something in the footage that could not be unseen: in full off-road gear, perched on a big GS in the sand, I look exactly like Humpty Dumpty. So that became the theme. I'm Humpty, obviously. Micky — my trainer, a truly wonderful man with a military background and a military approach to making me sweat — plays the King. My fellow trainee Ahmed and Micky together are all the king's men. The difference from the nursery rhyme is that these guys actually could put Humpty together again. Repeatedly.

The Happiest Fall of My Life

Why should you watch a big guy take beginner training? Because if you've ever thought about off-road riding and stopped yourself out of fear of looking foolish, this episode is the antidote. It's proof that falling isn't failing — it's literally part of the syllabus.

And the syllabus started early. Sixty seconds into the day — Micky was still just leading me to the training area — I had my first ever fall on a motorcycle. First since getting my licence this year. First ever, ever, ever. And here's the strange part: lying there in the sand, I felt a wave of happiness. The fear of dropping my bike — the one that had been riding pillion with me for months — was gone in an instant. I was actually cheering. Micky, ever the professional, documented the moment for posterity.

Then I tried to pick the bike up using my theoretical knowledge from YouTube — and failed miserably. Somewhere out there, young women one-third my size are lifting bikes this heavy. I still don't know how.

Micky helped me right the bike, then quietly offered to ride it out of the deep sand himself, since I hadn't had any training yet. I accepted with the speed of a man who has just been lying under his own motorcycle.

The Curriculum of Humility

Bags off the bike, and class began: slow riding, sharp turns, obstacle avoidance, balancing, and emergency braking. Standing on the pegs for the first time. Learning how the bike behaves when you weight one peg and step off the other. Micky walking alongside shouting the world's most useful coaching — feet down is normal riding, don't lift anything up — while I performed obstacle avoidance with a body motion best described as a 1970s twist. John Travolta, if John Travolta were Humpty Dumpty.

Emergency braking came in two flavours: ABS on, then ABS off — Micky demonstrating each one smoothly and then enjoying a good honest laugh at our attempts to copy him. But the boss level was slow riding. Slower does not mean easier; it's like dancing with a stubborn partner who outweighs you and has opinions. Sharp slow turns added mini heart attacks at no extra charge.

Final score: I threw the bike down maybe three times, learned more in one day than in months of solo riding, and left with my fear permanently deleted. If you're planning to touch sand — even basic sand — take a lesson first, from Micky or anyone qualified. It's the reason later rides like the Al Qudra gauntlet and the Al Faqa trail ended with the bike upright. Mostly.

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